An Artist Girl Jennifer Alison , who is taking care of 5 years old kid Adeline Alison as Her daughter. One day they both accidently met with F1 drivers and they got some invisible attachment with little young girl and her Pretty Protector.
"Are yo...
Christopher Robert : who is Jennifer Alison's very first love, the only boy she dated before James passed away. However, he left Jennifer alone and failed to show up at the party.
(He will include in the Jennifer's flash back times)
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"I can't believe it's really you," he said in his soft yet resonant voice, a familiar tone I'd always known. As he began to approach me, I instinctively took a step back, putting some distance between us. "Okay... okay, I won't come any closer," he assured, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I just want to say..."
"But I don't have anything to discuss with you. So, excuse me," I interjected swiftly, pivoting on my heel toward the restroom. However, my movement was abruptly halted by his sudden grasp on my arm.
"Jennifer, wait!" he pleaded, gently pulling me back towards him.
"Don't touch me, Christopher Robert," I murmured, mindful not to disturb others in the lounge room as I withdrew my hand from his grasp. "What do you want?" I inquired sharply.
"Jen... I just want..." Before he could finish his sentence, a member of the F1 staff called out from behind him.
"Mr. Robert, you can have your turn now," the staff announced. Judging by his response and the way he adjusted the camera around his neck, it seemed he had achieved his long-held aspiration of becoming a journalist. He released a frustrated sigh before replying.
"I'll be there in a minute," he responded briskly to the staff. While he was momentarily distracted, I seized the opportunity to hurry toward the restroom before he could intervene. Once inside the female restroom, I swiftly locked the door and leaned against it, taking a moment to collect myself. After a brief pause, I made my way to the sink and turned on the water.
As the water cascaded over my hands, memories of Christopher Robert flooded my mind, a blend of both sorrow and fondness. "Why here?" I muttered to myself with a sigh, splashing some water on my face in an attempt to uplift my spirits. Glancing into the mirror, I immediately noticed the large coffee stain on my tank top, trailing down to my jeans.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath as I attempted to wash away the stubborn coffee stain using some tried-and-tested techniques, but to no avail. With a resigned sigh, I accepted the fact that the stain, now a messy concoction of coffee and water, would remain on my clothes. After a few minutes of futile effort, I released a heavy sigh before finally stepping out of the restroom.
As I emerged from the restroom, I made a beeline for the exit of the lounge room, eager to avoid any encounter with him. However, before I could distance myself from the lounge, I collided with what I initially thought was a wall, only to realize it was a sturdy chest. A pair of hands swiftly reached out to steady me, grasping my arms to help me regain my balance.
