Lost and Found

Prologue

Estelle

When I place my two feet on the ground, staring down at my squashed trainers, I don't know exactly what my intentions are. The key is still in my hand, I am still less than a foot away from the ignition: I could drive away now and push the idea away. It used to be so much easier, pushing down feelings, like bitter things you only needed to swallow and forget. But this taste isn't bitter, not at all, and I can't swallow it because I really don't want to. This is an inconvenience I want.

So, I hold my keys tighter, heart excited, dancing to my thoughts, and I hop out of my car, closing the door slowly. The sun leaves a residual pink, golden film over the city as it sets and it's beautiful, but I don't take it as a sign because those don't really exist, but I walk in the film, bask in it as I make my way to the sleek, lofty building. It stands there silent, like it always has as the world spins and implodes both in it and around it- a consistent symbol in the city of strife.

I don't enter the building, I hold my breath after turning the corner and folding my arms, the street beyond much dimmer. He'd be expecting me here, so the only thing left to do is wait. I hold my breath. I'm jeopardising all I have, pushing away and toying with all I have. You don't put in so much work, all for your mind to change in an instant. And it has. Yet I don't hate this.

I kick up trash on the floor, I rustle around in my pockets, all to kill time.

"Estelle," he says, his voice emerging from the corner of the complex. I turn and he stands adjacent to the descending sun and the light hits him, just like on that first night.

I exhale, "Leon."

He's dressed professionally but he's not wearing a blazer, just a navy shirt I've seen him wear before. He comes closer.

"Everyone's gone for the day?"

"They left early today."

"And none of your colleagues..."

He shakes his head gently, "We don't have to worry about them."

I nod my head in response, feeling my feet lock into place. I wanted to be here but for a moment, I'm unsure what to say. "Um... about the last few days-"

"Estelle," he repeats in the same manner as before and it implores me to look up again. Swiftly, he pulls something from his back pocket. A flower emerges in front of me, a single pink rose with immaculate, crisp petals and a long stem with no thorns. I hold my breath again.

"It's beautiful..."

He comes even closer, and he places it into my hand. Then, his hand slides over mine.

"I know what you're thinking...about us." He pauses, exhales, "But I swear, if you don't mind. I don't mind. What my family thinks couldn't be less important to me right now."

I breathe slowly, meeting his gaze. He looks directly at me, sharp, focused, expectant, made golden by the sun. My legs feel limp.

"I promise." he affirms, more emphatically.

And I believe him, I believe every word and I believe my own mind when it tells me this is what I need.

He's standing merely inches away. I don't respond but lift my arms around his shoulders, breathing more heavily. My eyes flutter closed, and I feel his arms close in around my back and I want to cry because it's the first time I've touched him without hating myself for it, without feeling like the scum in the city's sewers. And then he kisses me again, for longer this time, because I fully allow myself to kiss him back. And there aren't any fireworks, but there might as well be. I feel them inside me: I feel tiny butterflies, flapping their wings in congratulations.

"I love you, Estelle."

But then it hits me as I pull myself away- everything I've been forgetting. I force my eyes closed and turn away, facing the dull brick wall as the colours fade and the fireworks let out their last dying cry. I force my arms across my chest and let it all thrash me.

"Hey," he says, taking hold of my arm again. "What's wrong, did I do something wrong?"

There's a stifling silence that takes us both hostage for a moment.

"You're crying."

I swallow, I break myself loose from his gentle grip and yes, there are now streaks of salty fluid running down my cheeks. "No, no it's..." I shake my head.

"Estelle, what happened?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's me."

There's another pause again, he takes a subtle step back. "You don't feel the same way."

I wipe the back of my hand across my cheek, exhaling. "No, Leon. I'm upset because I do feel the same way and have ever since I first walked into your house and saw you in that drawing room," My breaths slow again and I look at him through teardrops. "I love you too, that's the problem. This wasn't supposed to happen."