UNEXPECTEDLY EXPECTED | A '𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜' Romantic Novel

Chapter 1. A Thief?

C E C I L I A

The opportunity granted to me tomorrow felt like a bolt from the blue. I still can't believe that I'm standing in London, appreciating the luxury of the countless storied, glossy black building in front of me from which I came out just a few minutes ago.

Thanks to my back-breaking work, I was chosen as the Best Designer of the Month and the V.I.P ticket to Alexander Roger's fashion show became my prize.

London's Fashion Week itself was a dream for me and Alexander Roger's show on top of that, felt unreal. It was his struggling journey and dedication that moulded my teen mind and made me who I am today. Thus, he is my idol.

Even though I prefer to be alone most of the time, it's still better that I requested Nicole to come with me. The Fashion show was incredible. Mr. Roger's dresses showcased his amazing Artistic talent through the minute details. Seeing his work was inspiring. I hope, one day I'll be able to stand on that same stage and exhibit my very own show.

I was still cherishing the banner of the show in front of me, that I felt drops of water falling on to my skin. Within a few seconds the sky began pouring with full force; henceforth, I had to run to my car keeping my hands as a shield over my head to prevent getting soaked to the bone.

Unlike in Scotland where summer showers are more dominant, heavy and unpredictable showers during winter are quite normal in London. I press the bridge of my nose, as I start feeling the twinge of my Synus trouble. I'm still not adjusted to this chilly yet humid weather which brings me miserable headaches. All these rains every now and then disgust me.

And what's disgusting me more is that I'm stuck inside the car waiting for Nicole, to get back with the burgers she went to buy. She's been gone forever, and now I'm starting to get annoyed.
I pulled out my phone to kill some more time that I was going to waste waiting for her.

As I unlocked my phone, the first text message that popped on my screen was from my neighbour, Mrs. Watson.

'Hey Cecilia, I guess I didn't tell you about...'

This old woman again heard some rumours that she wants me to listen. Honestly, she is undoubtedly an annoying lady. But she is widowed and her only son lives in the States, for which she is all alone. And maybe for that little reason or the other, I can't bring myself to be rude to her.

But she's jobless. And since I'm home a lot of the time, she has made my house her second home.

Taking my kindness as a privilege, she spends most of her days at my home, finishing my whole month's tea and talking my ear off about gossip, like the personal life of her young stripper friend and her favourite TV actor's sixth divorce.

It's totally infuriating. Of course I'm not interested in any of that! But she just keeps going on and on. I wish I could just tell her to go home and leave me alone.

I ignored her texts and moved on to the next one.

As my eyes landed on the next message, my heart skipped. It's from the chief-designer of the company, Mrs. Hiller, who's in charge of making decisions to select the designers for the upcoming fashion show that our company is going to host in Paris, this September.

The opportunity to present my very own creations for the first time seemed like a dream, especially in a grant place like Paris. I couldn't resist applying for a position in the group.