"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Maeva's point of view.
"Awe. Look at you two love birds."
Isabelle has always mastered her entrances. She'd always make it on time to catch up on the juiciest part of the Sunday gossip brunch. Her timing is always on point to snatch the best deals and clients. And most importantly, she knows exactly when to impose herself on people's plans. Did she have to make it in here just when I was going to take her son for ice-cream? Oh well, she can always tag along. The realm of chocolate sprinkles is vast enough to hug every soul in need.
"Isabelle, how're you?" I ask, and she throws a somehow offended glare at the way Mark rests his arm on my shoulder. What's wrong with her? She's always encouraged me to befriend him and be there whenever he needs someone to talk to.
"Not so well." She replies, her eyes dripping venom and my soul cringing at the dramatic persona she's shifted into. What happened to the lady who used to wake me up with waffles so that I can help with her plants and flowers?
"What are you doing in here?" asks Mark, the spite level in his emeralds matching that of his mother's. Now we're definitely not having ice-cream. Pft. Hold on, poor belly. It'll soon be over. I hope so...
"I was looking for my missing son," she declares as she removes her sunglasses from her face and takes a few steps towards us, "and I found him with this girl..."
Wait a second... Is she pointing at me with those ray-bans of hers? Am I the girl she's talking about? Was all the poison she was spraying directed on me?
'Yes, of course, and definitely.'
Hold my neurons, conscience. I'm about to teach her how proper villains behave...
As we both enter a much-heated staring contest, I take my time to dissect her, returning some of her venom every once and then. Her lips are pursed in a perfect button-sized dot, and the number of wrinkles she's gained in a matter of days is remarkable. She's gone overboard with the perfume, as usual, but the undertones of poison she's exuding take the floral fragrance to a whole darker level.
Never in my life have I imagined that I'd witness an acquaintance of mine turning into my nemesis, let alone the once sweet and caring Isabelle.
"This girl?" asks Mark in disbelief as he tries hard not to raise his voice considering all the people surrounding us. Those Williams have better stop calling me that, or else, they're going to witness what "this girl" is capable of. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her," he adds, and my eyes water at once.
Awe, I'm going to cry... Did he just say that? If the setting wasn't that awkward, I would've pinched his cheeks and kissed his forehead for being such a sweetheart.
'Get a grip, woman!'
Closing her eyes at her son's attitude, Isabelle takes a deep breath. The type of breath one would take before detonating a bomb. She then looks at me in disgust before addressing her son,
