Refusing To Be His Perfect Replica, I Choose The Arranged Marriag by BlueMoone

Chapter 5

The transatlantic flight carried me eastward, the sun painting ever changing portraits outside my window. Brilliant azure skies gave way to rolling clouds tinged with gold, a canvas of nature’s finest work

Inspiration struck suddenly, and I pulled out my sketchpad, capturing the ethereal play of light in a n jewelry design.

By the time I finished, darkness had claimed the sky.

There was something magical about crossing the Atlantic – a time traveler’s journey where I left New York on the morning of the 27th only to land in London on the night of the 26th.

Through the arrivals gate, I spotted them immediately – Mum, Dad, and William standing in a row,

beaming and waving like excited children at a parade.

The sight of them made my heart squeeze.

I ran to them, wheeling designer luggage forgotten as I fell into Mum’s embrace, breathing in her familiar perfume – Chanel No. 5, just as she’d worn all my life.

-Eight years ago, I’d defied their wishes and moved to New York for university, chasing what I’d thought

was love.

let me go, trusting me to find my

brief Christmas visits, a daughter’s absence marked by empty chairs

pulled back from Mum’s embrace

“Mum, I’m starving.”

darling.” She cupped my face, her eyes soft with maternal concern. “Tll make your favorite – shepherd’s pie with extra gravy,

“Perfect.”

arms with both my parents as we walked to the car park, our

terminal.

Chapter 5

Manhattan penthouse, Castro faced a very different scene.

the Italian marble floor, repeatedly calling a number he knew wouldn’t answer.

the alert had woken him in Oriana’s guest room, the familiar chime cutting through his

instinct had been to head to Whole Foods, to buy ingredients for

planned.

ago was

at breakfast, limping slightly, had given

couldn’t understand it. I’d always been the reasonable one why was I being

his phone at Oriana’s, he finally headed home.

into the penthouse, he felt like he’d walked into a stranger’s home. He actually stepped back out, checked the apartment number, and

had reverted to its pre–Aveline state- stark, minimalist, cold.