Wish you were mine

9. Unexpected Plan

PENELOPE

I woke up with a long, drawn-out yawn, stretching my legs like a lazy kitten still tangled in sleep. Blinking against the sharp light streaming through the window, I rubbed my eyes and squinted, trying to adjust to the brightness.

With another stretch, I reached over to the nightstand, grabbing my phone-a habit I'd formed over the last week. My morning routine had become predictable, but not in a good way. The first thing I did, always, was check my email. And, like clockwork, disappointment settled over me as I saw the same empty inbox staring back. No new messages. Not from any of the companies I'd applied to. Not a single word.

I refreshed the page, hoping for a change, but the silence remained. An unwelcome guest that had overstayed its welcome. I knew a week wasn't long in the grand scheme of things-some companies took months to respond-but that didn't stop the creeping feeling of inadequacy gnawing at me. The self-doubt lingered, whispering that I wasn't good enough. That maybe, just maybe, I didn't deserve it. Sometimes it got so heavy, so overwhelming, that even the idea of picking up a pencil to sketch felt impossible. The weight of rejection left a mark that wasn't easy to erase.

I hadn't followed the same path as most. Unlike my classmates, I didn't attend my interior design college regularly. My time was split between weekend classes and working on my projects. My sister Angelina being on the board of trustees meant no one questioned my lack of attendance. I wasn't slacking, though-I took every exam, aced them, and passed with flying colors. But still, there was a nagging feeling, a sense that I hadn't given it my all.

Shaking the thoughts away, I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the day ahead. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten. Deciding to freshen up quickly and save the shower for after breakfast, I padded towards the bathroom.

Humming softly to myself, I walked into the dining room, only to find my sister already seated at the table. Dressed in jeans and a casual top, she was quietly sipping her coffee. I raised an eyebrow in question, wondering why she wasn't in her usual business attire.

"Not going to the office today?" I asked, sliding into the chair across from her.

"No," she murmured, her gaze still on her coffee. "I've got a cake-tasting appointment with Sean at the bakery."

I smiled faintly. "How's the wedding planning going?" I asked, as the maid placed a plate of breakfast in front of me.

"It's going well," she replied absently.

I began spreading butter on my toast, trying to keep the conversation light. "So, have you decided where you're having the wedding yet? Destination or here in LA?"

A soft glow spread across her face, and her eyes brightened. "We've decided on Ireland."

My hand froze mid-motion, the knife hovering above the bread. Ireland? The words echoed in my head. That was... my dream. The place I'd always wanted to get married.

Sophie didn't seem to notice my sudden silence. "With winter just around the corner, we thought it would be perfect for a beautiful winter wedding," she continued, her voice filled with excitement.

My heart sank. Winter in Ireland-exactly what I had imagined for myself. Was it a coincidence? Or did we really share the same taste, the same dreams? After all, we'd both fallen in love with the same man once.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as the familiar sting of tears burned at the back of my eyes. "That sounds... wonderful," I managed to say, though my voice wavered.

The room fell quiet again, until the shrill ring of her phone shattered the silence. Sophie quickly answered, her cheerful expression fading into one of tension as she listened.