Tale as old as time | Fillie

Jealousy is an ugly Beast

➵

Part 1

The air was sparkling with excitement and marvelous thoughts.

The December sky was cloudy, grey, with soft clouds painted in that gloomy palette. The leaves were falling down the trees: a feast of sparkling color danced in the wind, making the short skirt of the woman twirl.

You would be surprised to see a spot color hanging around the monochromatic Vancouver; but that day, oh God, she wanted to be the most colorful girl ever existed!

Perfectionist as she was, she didn't leave any detail to chance; Prince was at his grandpa's house; her make up was on point: a shocking fuchsia lipstick contoured her lips, her eyelashes were mascara coated, a soft blush was brushed on her pale cheeks and her fresh new cut hair was framing her chin perfectly with her short honey hair.

Her outfit was as sparkling as her personality: a red coat, a tartan short dress and black heels, who accentuated her legs adorned by thick pink tights.

Her heels tapped on the sidewalks, finally reaching an elegant building she knew it very well. The concierge, a blonde guy with blue eyes called Quincy, opened the little electronic gate for her.

"Mrs. Wolfhard." He elegantly greeted her, making her pass.

Millie grinned shyly, still not used to all of those attentions and to that new name. No matter if a year had passed, the ring on her annular still shocked her, electrified her: she had married the only person she had ever wanted, the one who was, without any doubt, the love of her life.

She clicked on the button of the elevator, the doors opening just for her.
Anxiety was devouring her.

When the little wait was over, the elevator opened, and Millie was already swaying (carefully) on the parquet of Royal Mountains Records; she was still a clumsy girl, no matter what.

It smelt like home; she could feel the intoxicating scent of jasmine of her husband there, and how everyone was kind of happy with their job — the atmosphere was so different if compared to his earlier boring and intimidating office where Finn had been secluded in for so many years.

"Oh, Mrs. Wolfhard!" Elsie Fisher, the short blonde at the reception greeted her, as she was tapping her fingers on the keyboard of the iMac, "We weren't waiting for you."

"I know, Elsie. My husband doesn't know I'm here. Actually, I don't know if he has even time to receive me!"

She smiled genuinely, "Mr. Wolfhard has always time for you. Right now, he's a meeting with a producer and a musician. But you can wait for him in his office while I warn him."

Millie politely bent her head, "Thank you."

She knew the way to his office.

When she entered it, she looked around; it has been weeks since she had stepped a foot in there for the first time.

Holy moly, Finn's place was just so different from his previous one: most of his shiny guitars were there, as well the posters of his favorite Indie bands; his desk was messy, full of piano sheets and a simple black keyboard was placed into a corner.