GHOST SQUAD

CHAPTER 30- CHOICE

Aria sat on the stool that looked into her dressing mirror, brushing out the remaining knots in her hair. She placed her comb on the table and stared at her reflection. The warm shower had at least reduced her swollen eyes. Her long blue gown that once clung to her body, now hung loosely around her. She had lost weight recently. Other than that, she found herself looking less miserable. 

Aria supposed she had Tristan to thank for that. If it were not for him, she would've withered away a long time ago. He had, if not removed, dulled the pain of losing Aunt Pearl.

She had vague memories of what had happened. All she could recall was that she had been in the kitchen helping their chef John, when Uncle Mason had called her, informing about Aunt Pearl's sudden demise.

Aria's hand had shook so badly that she had dropped her phone. John had been calling her name, but she had ceased hearing anything and had run out of the house. She had reached halfway, when she spotted a taxi and had somehow managed to make her way to the boutique. 

Aria had not been willing to accept what she had heard, until she finally arrived and saw an ambulance parked outside. Two men were dragging Aunt Pearl in a stretcher.

Aria had shrieked loudly, running to stop the two men, but Uncle Mason kept a tight hold on her until the ambulance was gone. Once she could manage to get out of his grip, she had jerked his hands off and had run straight into the boutique. Her dress had caught on a nail, but she had ignored it and ran in anyway. What happened afterwards was fuzzy. Had she fainted?

The next thing she remembered was Uncle Mason sitting next to her in the boutique, telling her about the funeral which she had refused to attend. Reluctantly, Uncle Mason had left and she had been left alone. Aria had never been so lost in life the way she had then. She had never felt so lonely.

To everyone else, Aunt Pearl was just a friendly Aunt Aria liked. They did not know that she was the only woman who knew everything about Aria. Who listened to her. Who gave her advice even on the silliest of things. She was the only one Aria could be herself with. She had been the only one who always knew how Aria felt about everyone and everything. Aunt Pearl was her shoulder to cry on. A well-wisher who always wished the best for her. The first person Aria wanted to share any good news with. She was the only one who understood Aria.

 That was when Tristan's face had appeared before her eyes and without a second thought she had sent him a message.

Aria had cried on his shoulder for hours and he had held on to her. He had been a pillar, supporting her and lifting her up. He had carried her home and had gently laid her on the bed.

'Right now, you're like that gold ore Aria, and all this that's happening is to melt you so you can come out stronger than ever!'

Aria looked at her reflection again and caught herself blushing. What was happening to her? The only guy who could make her blush was Knave. Not anymore. Tristan was, slowly, but surely creating his own place in her heart. Perhaps people could move on from their first love.

Aria stood up and looked around. There was not a part in her room that did not hold a memory of Knave. Her dressing table held a photo frame which captured a ten-year-old Knave pulling a nine-year-old Aria's cheeks. 

She looked at Knave's picture closely. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes which existed even now. However, it only came when he felt pure happiness.

Aria turned to examine her room walls, which were painted purple. A 'favour' from Knave, who believed if he had not intervened in time, her room would've been a hideous shade of yellow. A typical Knave problem which Aria did not consider a problem at all. She loved the colour yellow. It was bright, warm and sunny. Exactly what one would search for in a bedroom.