When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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She toyed with the bracelet on her wrist, sitting in the airport lounge, looking down on it.
As if reading her mind from afar, he called her phone at that moment.
"Hey," she answered softly, picking up nearly right away.
"Hey," his low voice mirrored hers. It sounded like he was driving. "What's up?" He asked her.
"Oh, I'm just sitting at hte airport. Looking at your bracelet," she smiled, saying plainly.
"It's your bracelet," he corrected her.
"Our bracelet." Isabelle looked at both of their initials engraved on it. M + I. Almost like my.
They talked for a bit, and as her plan was being boarded, she told him I love you at the end of the conversation, and she could feel his smile from across the phone as he told her he loved her too.
8 hours and two miniatrue wine bottle later, Isabelle was whizzzing past the streets of Copenagen in an uber, on the way to her hotel. It was gray, overcast but beautiful. She loved Copenhagen. The simple but thoughtful design that permeated every aprt of hte ity. The beautiful, blonde people that weaved between the streets.
Oftentimes, she imagined coming to Denamrk for year to study somethign completely useless nad something shewould bsolutely love. Like history or art or both.
She wrote a quick message to Milo on the bed of hteh Otel, before fallign into a long, sleep.
She woke up at 4am local time. Took a sip of wter andp added over to the window. She peeled back the curtain and marvelled at the river that cut across the city that she could see from her view.
She messaged him again.
Why arent you sleeping? xx
He replied right away.
One thing led to another and they ended up having a virtual version of phone sex.
She was saying how much she missed him, and he would take it further and then they had their own little photo collection.
This went on a couple of times over the course of her trip.
They stayed in touch that way and she felt that it made them come closer.
She was seeing so many wonderful things in between working on her photoshoots, but all she really wanted was to see him!
There was a point during her trip, that Milo had to fly to Singapore, making it nearly a 14 hour difference between them.
That made it harder to talk. But the worst of it, was when she would look at his location, seeing it was 3 or 4 am his time, and he was on a party street in the red light district.
I'm not even going to reacho ut to him, she htought, there's nothing else I can control here.
He would call her briefly the next day, letting her know coyly that there were women that his friends were going with, that had boyfriends back home, but he made it clear he had a girlfirend. After briefly asking her how she was, she realized she in fact, was not alright, feeling extrmely alone in this hotel room way above the city, with no one. So after he hung up, on the way to some market, she burst into tears.
When he called back 2 hours later to tell her goodnight, and she let it ring because she needed peace, but ended up calling him back, it was the same thing. A quick conversation, Isabelle feeling more like an after-thought to him.
She almost fell asleep but woke up herself with a cry that involuntarily came out of nowhere.
When she woke up, there were no messages from him to her. He had spent a whole day. She thought about how she would always send him videos or pictures of her travels, but he...didn't?
Then his name popped up on her phone.
Hi Izzy,
She took a deep breath, and answered, I just woke up.
He called her again and said how the boat cruise they were 'networking' and it was still the same women there and ....Isabelle didn't have it in her to act normal but she tried. It was like a knife going thorugh her heart. Imaging beautiful women throwing thmselves at him. She knew she had to trust him, and shw was doing her very best.
That morning, here yes were so puffy form crying, that the makeup artist frowned and gave her a knowing look, before applying ice to depuff them.
"Rough night, love?" The woman asked her.
Izzy could just nod. Milo was sleeping now. Her sleep was full of nightmares: a house party she couldn't leave...her old apartment, Milo...
She remered fighting with im a couple weeks before this, ndh im asking, "do you think we'll be able to make it thorugh our trips, like this?"
At the time, she said, of course. But now she was beginning to wonder herself.
