Sinners - The Puppet (currently being re-written)

Chapter 10 - That boy called Ivan

Shauna Navarro could never forget that boy--that boy with a hair of brown, that boy with the eyes of summer leaves, that boy who loved orange juice a little too much, that boy who always had his nose stuck in a book or two, that boy who always carried himself with confidence, that boy who always walked forward and never followed others.

Shauna remembered that boy. How could she not when he was the love of her life?

She sighed at the thought, fingers running through the papers on her desk and eyes scanning the familiar handwriting over and over again. All in all, there were fourteen letters--all from him to her--and received at least three weeks after the signed date. The contents were more or less the same, just how he spent the week prior to writing the letter and everything he saw in that country.

When Ivan had left Lumia with her foster mother two years ago, she had insisted that they maintain contact through letters as, apparently, the hospital was in the middle of the mountains with hardly any signal for telecommunications. While she certainly didn't expect him to do it (given his notorious laziness), Shauna had nonetheless tried.

And to her surprise, one month later, she received a response. Ivan Fernandez, devil of sloth, took the time to write a five-page letter addressed to her. And for a moment there she swore she saw a sliver of hope that the feeling was mutual.

Yet, staring at the last letter she received dated November 2, X026, that small hope shattered into a thousand pieces, to little for her to fix. For five months and six days now, she still hadn't heard a thing from him.

...Well, that wasn't exactly the case. Letters for her had stopped, yes, but Miguel still received reports on a monthly basis. Like a soldier on duty, Ivan had written details of his stay to Miguel and updated him about Cassandra's current condition.

So she understood. Miguel was important. Shauna wasn't.

It was as simple as that.

Fine, she could take it. She knew it was impossible given how he never seemed attracted to anyone in particular. Sure, he'd admitted that he found someone pretty (like his mother and aunt, for example) but he never, ever, ever had a girlfriend once before.

He didn't like women--or to be exact, women who didn't seem to know personal space and kept on touching him as if he was a statue on display--and she was fine with that. She was fine even if they maintained whatever kind of relationship they have now. She had made sure to show him that she wouldn't be those kinds of women. She liked him too much.

And so, she wrote on the letter she had sent him a month ago that she was fine. That she would still wait for his next response. That he should tell her when he'll be coming home.

Imagine her surprise, three weeks later, when she found a head of brown hair sticking so close to the gap on the door to Miguel's office. He was there. No matter how tall he was now and how broad his shoulders had gotten after those two years, she would always remember the sight of that back.

Because she willed herself to remember it.

Shauna didn't mask every bit of irritation oozing out of her as she stomped away from the office. Ugh. Ivan Fernandez. She might like him a lot but she hated him just as equally. Never mind everything she just said--he could burn in hell and she'd even pour gas on the fire burning him. UGHHH. This day was turning for the worst and she hadn't even eaten lunch yet. GOOD GRIEF.

"Major," a quiet voice beside her called, "where are we going?"

Shauna glanced to the person beside her. Ethan was there, his clouded gray eyes staring at her, and the puppy in his arms wagged its tail. She heaved a sigh. All right, her irritation was reaching dangerous levels. She wasn't a major jerk unlike somebody. She would not take out her irritation on someone innocent.