Missing In Paris

Chapter 26

After Neela's last breaths of rarefied air in the coveted apartment she'd once called home, the door slammed shut on the part of her life labeled 'Luc,' giving way to a new beginning.

This new beginning was comprised of all that things you wouldn't find on any bucket list: dank walls, cramped quarters, and run down...everything.

My how the mighty have fallen.

This twenty-square-meter studio apartment was Neela's official new address, and although it was lacking in all things roomy and aesthetic, it was at least still a victory in symbolic terms—as long as she squinted her eyes to avoiding taking in the cruddy details.

What Neela hadn't yet realized due to her previously privileged existence, was that tiny studio life was very much the norm for those who couldn't stand to live outside the coveted Paris postal codes.

So this wasn't embarrassing at all!

Besides, Neela now had the luxury of viewing her entire kitchen (a.k.a. a two-burner flat-top stove, three cupboards, and a bar-sized fridge) from the comfort of her squeaky bed. Not only would she never fall asleep with the frightening risk of accidentally having left the stove on, she would also be able to detect any fires immediately. Or perhaps this incredibly close proximity meant a kitchen fire would kill her within seconds. Unclear.

As she eyed the burners with increasing suspicion, she adjusted her cross-legged position, a bed that precariously held the full weight of herself, Tiff, Dante and Chloe—not to mention the large pizza, bottle of champagne and mismatched mugs that were between them.

"And what did he say after that?" Chloe urged, desperate for the next reveal in Neela's dramatic retelling of her final conversation with Luc.

"Well..." Neela started, before pausing for a fond little moment of reflection, "...he was on such a roll of being all cute and wise and friendly and shit, that I actually wasn't sure how the ring-thing would go down." She took a bite of pizza, drawing out the suspense for as long as possible.

Tiff gestured to Neela's left hand. "Well, you're not wearing it so..."

Dante snorted. "What does that prove? She obviously wouldn't keep it on after breaking off an engagement; that's tacky as hell!"

Neela nodded. "He's right; I am a lot classier than that." She chugged some champagne to wash down the pizza.

"Like obviously you would melt it down into a diamond solitaire necklace," he added.

Neela shrugged. "I'm actually more of a diamond-earring gal..."

"So did he let you keep the goddamn ring or not?" Chloe hissed.

Neela tried not to laugh. "I promise I'll get to the point, but it's really fun to see you so unhinged and obsessed."

Dante laughed. "It's very satisfying; French people: they're just like us!" He winked at Chloe and lowered his voice to a whisper for what came next: "Just take the abuse for tonight, okay? She's depressed and needs a laugh!"

Neela frowned. "You know I'm sitting less than a foot from you, right?"

Tiff grabbed Neela's coffee mug and poured her some champagne. "Forget him; just drink."

Neela obeyed and took a long sip before continuing on with her story. "Obviously, as an independent woman who wants to make it on her own, it wouldn't be right to keep the ring." She sighed. "But at the same time..." she gestured to the cardboard boxes and the ugly apartment, "...a part of me was hoping he'd be all like, it will always be yours, please keep it."