♡ M I L A ♡
A WEEK AGO.
The door clicks open, and Jennie lazily steps inside a dimly lit room, dragging her luggage with her. A sigh of relief escapes her lips. "Ahh! Home. Sweet. Home," she declares dramatically, her voice echoing in the empty apartment as she drops the heavy bags with a thud and disappears into the kitchen.
I silently cross the threshold with my own bags, the carpet cushioning my footsteps. I stop to scan the familiar surroundings, taking in the cozy living room, the soft glow of the moon casting shadows on the walls, and the comforting scent of home. When she interrupts by returning to the room. "We did it!" she says, holding bottles of water, tosses one at me, eagerly opening the other and taking one long gulp.
I turn to look at her.
Sure, we did. It's been three and a half months since we survived the finals, tossed our graduation caps, and then went on a freaking one-month trip to Paris, a graduation present half generously chipped in by my parents. "... such a great idea," she says, her eyes light up with fond memories of our recent graduation trip.
I nod and manage a smile at her, my heart swelling.
Being an Oakleaf graduate, it already feels like a distant memory, and Paris, the city of lights... love... it was nothing short of a dream come true. The memories flood back—the cobblestone streets of Montmartre, the iconic steps of the Palais Garnier, and felt like royalty at the elegant Plaza Athénée. We sipped wine at Chez Julien, a chic bistro in the Marais. The truffled risotto melted on our tongues, and the vegetarian Bourguignon was a revelation.
Then, we strode along the Avenue Montaigne, a fashionista's paradise, strutting past boutiques with names that rolled off the tongue: Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton, and dining at the Baccarat Cristal Room was like stepping into a crystal dream. The chandeliers sparkled, and the delicate china whispered stories of centuries past.
In the museums, each piece of artwork held a secret. I stood before Monet's water lilies, Van Gogh's starry nights, and the enigmatic smile of the Mona Lisa. Macarons and assorted pastries at Ladurée, their sweetness lingered on my lips. And the Tuileries Garden, oh, the leisurely walks along the tree-lined path, the rustle of leaves, and the scent of blooming flowers.
I felt like a character from a classic novel.
But the pièce de résistance?
The Eiffel Tower.
Iconic, timeless, and breathtaking.
Its silhouette against the twilight sky, the city of lights spread out below us, the city that whispered promises of love and adventure.
Every moment was filled with wonder and amazement. And sitting by the Seine, rereading my favorite classics and sipping coffee at a charming café, everything was just... perfect!
My phone buzzes, interrupting my reverie.
I pull it out from my purse and glance down at the screen.
"What is it?" Jennie asks, arching an eyebrow.
I look back up at her and shrug. "Just my mom checking if we're back," I reply, my fingers dancing over the screen.
"Lucky you." I hear her muttering under her breath as she flops onto the couch, throwing her feet on the coffee table. But I catch a glimpse of a fleeting expression of sadness on her face before it melts into a wistful longing.
She takes sips of water, lost in thought.
I steal another glance at my phone, feeling somewhat defeated. I send Mom a quick text before I clear my throat and ask her, "Why the pout?"
