Fortuitous Love

III

"Madeleine? What are you doing here?" Nine asked innocently after standing up.

"Uh... I'm here with friends. What about you?" Madeleine looked back at her group then to Nine with an uncertain gaze. A few of her friends made their way towards them, Sinclair being one of them.

"I am here with some acquaintances," Nine answered, pointing back at Anton and Marek. "When they found out I was coming to visit, they insisted that we should make a stop here."

"Madeleine, are you alright?" Sinclair interrupted their conversation.

"I'm fine. You should be asking her if she's alright," Madeleine said and pointed at Nine. "I wasn't looking where I was going, then I bumped into her. Again, I'm really sorry."

"Don't stress about it, I'm fine," she reassured her.

"I didn't think I would be seeing you again," Madeleine admitted with her head lowered.

Before Nine could answer, Sinclair interrupted.

"You two know each other?"

"Yes, we... uh... we met at Dune, whilst I was working," Madeleine answered suspiciously quickly. Poor girl. Just say it, there is no need to be shy now. We fucked. Plain and simple.

"Lyra Point," Nine introduced herself.

"Hank Sinclair," he introduced himself as well, extending his hand for her to shake with a confused expression. "Have we met before? You seem familiar."

"I believe not. You maybe have me confused with someone else," Nine denied his suspicions.

"Our table is available, we should go sit down," Sinclair dismissed their conversation, continuing to stare at Nine skeptically.

"Oh, alright. Well, it was nice bumping into you again. Don't be a stranger," Madeleine offered her small smile.

As they walked to their table, Nine looked back at Tatum. She gave her a wink and a thumbs-up, signaling that her job was finished. Nine continued her journey outside and strolled to the farmstall.

There was a small smoking area on the left-hand side. So far, she did not have the chance to smoke today. Anton said that she should keep her bad habits far away from his ankle-biter. Which was fair, but still, she had cravings to satisfy.

Standing outside the farmstall, taking a few moments to herself as she lit up a cigarette. The air was crisp and cool, despite the searing sun, she could feel a gentle breeze brushing against her skin. Surrounding her were towering oak trees, their leaves rustling in the wind and casting dappled shadows on the ground.

As she took a deep drag on her cigarette, she noticed a group of chipmunks scurrying about the area, darting between the trees and rocks. They seemed almost oblivious to her presence, focused solely on their own business. She watched them for a moment before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. Placing the cigarette butt in the provided ashtray, she suddenly felt the urge to go into the farmstall.

She stepped inside the modern farmstall, immediately struck by its clean lines and minimalist aesthetic. The space was open and airy, with high ceilings and walls made of glass that allowed natural light to flood in. Everywhere she looked, she saw sleek metal and polished wood, a sharp contrast to the rustic charm of traditional farmstalls.

The shelves were stocked with artisanal products, each item carefully curated for its quality and craftsmanship. There were jars of honey, fresh produce, homemade jams and preserves, and even handcrafted cheeses. The modern twist on these classic farm products was evident in the sleek packaging and minimalist labels.