The Rose and the Slipper

Annabelle walked across the corridor with her head bowed slightly, watching her feet stepping carefully on the carpeted floor. The clacking of her heels were muted by the dark burgundy carpet covering the floor from wall to wall.

She finally stopped when she reached the door by the end of the corridor that would lead her to the parlour. She took a deep breath, smoothing down the emerald green evening dress she was wearing. She knew the guests were already waiting for her inside. And she also knew that her parents were expecting her to show up looking her best.

The dress had been specially picked for today’s occasion.

The off-shoulder dress fell down gracefully, touching the floor. The A-line design complimented her slim waist. There was a lace lining along the bottom part of the dress. She knew that her outfit that evening was meant to impress. It made her look demure and innocent and the colour complimented her fair skin tone and the deep brown of her eyes. She adorned a pair of emerald earrings to match the dress and her feet were slid into a pair of matching stilettos that made her a couple of inches taller.

After taking a deep, careful breath, Annabelle brought her hand up and turned the doorknob, slowly opening the heavy mahogany door.

Immediately every eye was on her the moment she entered the room. Her lips curled up into a trained, polite smile as she started to gracefully walk further inside, her eyes carefully scanning everyone else in the room.

There were approximately more than ten people in the parlour at the moment, including the maids and her family butler, Dominic. Dominic had been serving the Brookefield family for two generations, ever since her grandfather was still alive. He was too old, now, Annabelle thought. But he insisted on serving the family since he had no one else after his wife died and his children had moved on with their own lives.

Annabelle somehow felt sorry for the old man.

She threw him a more genuine smile as she walked past him. He was standing in the shadow at the corner of the room, his shoulders hunched due to old age. He smiled back, bowing his head respectfully.

“Here she is,” Robert said, smiling proudly as he reached out his hand towards her as she got closer. Annabelle acknowledged her father’s company. She recognised him from many of his father’s business functions that she had to attend since she was younger. The man was one of his father’s business rival. Not too far from them, her mother was engaged in a conversation with a beautiful woman which Annabelle knew was the man’s wife. They all were holding a glass of expensive whiskey in their hands.

“Annabelle, you remember, Mr. Malik?” Robert asked, still smiling wide.

Annabelle had learned to differentiate the different types of her father’s smile. The one he was wearing now was his special ‘business’ smile where he only wore when he was about to make a business deal.

Somehow, that was the smile she hated the most.

Especially now since she knew what business deal Robert was making with the man.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying things that would taint her family’s name as she kept the smile on her face intact. “Yes, I remember. It’s pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Malik,” she responded politely, her voice had a soft lilt to it.

He responded to her greeting with a curt smile, which Annabelle was used to from numerous encounters she’d had with him. She was glad the moment his wife pulled her away from the men’s attention and pulled her into a hug before kissing both her cheeks.

She had always liked the wife better than the husband. Then, she realised that she needed to start remembering their names since they would be family soon. Her mother, Maria and the woman resumed their conversation about some tea party they had attended last week, which Annabelle tuned out.

She let her eyes roamed across the whole room and they finally rested on a boy her age. At least she remembered his name. He was Zayn Malik, her fiancé.

They had been betrothed since they were really young. Apparently, after their marriage, both family would merge their businesses together.

Zayn was standing near the big window overlooking the beautiful garden Maria had paid a huge sum of money to make sure it stayed lush and colourful with blooming flowers.

He was standing all by himself, looking out the window, seeming as if he was deep in thought. She didn’t bother going over there and start a conversation. Both of them had nothing in common. Both their families had arranged numerous dates for them but they just couldn’t find the chemistry that could fit them together.

She liked riding her horse fast so that she could feel the wind on her face, making her feel alive. He however preferred a slow, leisure walk so that he could appreciate the view more. She preferred reading romance novels that just made her emotions going haywire while he had made it clear that he preferred reading something with graphics instead of just words.

The one thing both of them had in common was that they both distasted this arranged marriage that was forced upon them by their parents.

So, Annabelle just stood silently next to Maria, pretending to be interested in the women’s conversation while her mind was wandering to a fantasy land she had created inside her head where he knight in shining armour would come and sweep her off her feet.

-

Louis woke up with a massive headache. He grimaced at the foul taste in his mouth as he opened his eyes slowly, taking in his surroundings. He frowned – the tiny movement somehow intensified the throbbing in his head – as he realised that he was not in his room. Groggily, he sat up, smirking to himself when he noticed that he was naked, saved from the thin sheet covering him from the waist down.

He looked to his side and saw a girl sleeping with her back to him. She had short, dark hair and she was also naked. Carefully, he slid off the bed, mindful not to wake the girl. He didn’t want to complicate things by facing the girl the morning after they slept together.

He knew he wouldn’t even call her again after their encounter last night.

After putting back his clothes and picking up his wallet and keys, Louis made his way on tip-toe out of the flat. He was glad that the girl didn’t seem to have any roommates. He hated mornings when he had to have an awkward walk of shame in front the girls he had just shagged the night before.

When he was finally outside the building, Louis took in a deep breath and whistling to himself, he went towards his car that was parked not too far from the complex. He then drove his car back to his own flat, the girl’s name and face already fading from his mind.

It took him about half an hour to shower to clean off the traces of last night from his skin and get ready for work.

Louis wouldn’t call himself a man whore or any other degrading names since he had so much pride on himself. But he couldn’t deny the fact that he probably had a reputation around the area. Unsurprisingly, he found that reputation as a flattery. His best friend Harry said that he was an attention-seeking twat. Louis would beg to differ.

And if Harry wanted to keep arguing about that, Louis would always threaten to cut off his pay-check and the curly haired boy would immediately kept his mouth shut. Louis of course would never actually do that but Harry didn’t need to know that either.

When he arrived at the bookstore that he had owned since two years ago, Harry had already arrived and started to open the shop. Louis bought the shop that was located in a little pocket space between two tall buildings from an old woman with the name Josie Albert. Josie’s children had all graduated from universities and had big jobs in big firms. She sold the shop so she could spend the money that she had saved up along with the money her children gave her to go travelling. Louis tried not to think about how morbid it was that she insisted on bringing the urn containing her late husband’s ashes with her as she travelled.

Louis didn’t think twice about buying the shop. He had spent a huge chunk of his life growing up going to that very bookshop whenever he wanted to run away from his life at home. He had used the money his father banked in into his account every month, as if money would ever become enough compensation for years of abandonment. Louis however wasn’t above taking money when it was given to him and he now had his own business.

It wasn’t big but it was home for him.

“Morning,” Harry greeted cheerfully from where he was wiping the big window with a dirty washcloth.

Louis met Harry just a few days after he had finalised the purchase of the shop, the curly haired boy was looking for a part-time job to survive college. Two years later, Harry was already in his final year and he was still working for Louis.

He had a sense that Harry would still work there even after he graduated. The green-eyed, brown-haired boy seemed to love that place as much as Louis did. He somehow had found himself a little family in Harry and Niall, his other employee, a blonde Irish boy with a mouth as foul as it could ever get.

“Morning, Haz,” Louis replied, taking off his coat and hung it on the coat hanger by the door. He stood there, in front of the cashier counter, watching Harry in amusement. “You do realise that the cloth is dirty, right?” Louis asked, snickering at the younger boy.

Harry scoffed in indignation, but still kept wiping the glass with the cloth. “It’s not dirty. It just looks dirty but it’s not. I’d washed it,” he replied and as if to make his point clear to Louis, he brought the cloth in front of his face and spread it. The once white cloth was now grey with dirt.

Louis rolled his eyes. If Harry insisted that it was clean, then who was he to say otherwise? Harry was interrupted from whatever he was about to say when a cheerful blonde entered the shop with three cups of coffee precariously balanced on a tray in his hands.

“Oh, someone got lucky last night,” Niall said in lieu of greeting, wriggling his eyebrows towards Louis as he put the tray on the counter top. “And Harry, that cloth is dirty. No wonder that window is never clean,” he continued to muse. With a pout, Harry walked away from the window and threw the rag onto the counter next to the tray of coffee and picked a cup.

Picking his own cup, Louis smiled as he brought it to his lips, carefully taking a sip of the hot beverage. Looking around him, he was somehow grateful that he had these two silly boys with him.

With them around, he could pretend for a while that he wasn’t feeling lonely.