"Here's the jasmine tea you ordered, young miss," Leila said with a polite smile.
Since her arrival, she hadn't had a moment to catch her breath. Customers streamed in, some friendly while others were arrogant and challenging to serve. They bombarded her with complaints about their tea being cold, their pastries tasting too sweet, and the service being too slow.
Leila maintained a polite smile through it all, reminding herself that no matter how unreasonable the customers were, their demands took precedence. Rule number one of being a waitress: the customer is always right. Her own opinions didn't matter; she felt like a puppet dancing to their whims.
As she darted around the pastry shop, her mind spiraled into bizarre, gruesome daydreams about what might happen after her shift. She imagined Mr. Rodrick tossing her into a pit of fire while laughing maniacally or transforming her into a giant cookie, serving her to cruel, hungry customers. (Okay, that's entirely impossible. Snap out of it, Leila!)
Suddenly, Leila shook her head to dispel these ridiculous thoughts.
"Leila? Leila?! Can you hear me?!" Margaret's loud voice jolted her back to reality.
"What?" Leila replied, slightly disoriented.
"Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit absent-minded."
"I just didn't get enough sleep last night," she admitted, rubbing her weary eyes. She recalled a restless night when she had woken up suddenly and couldn't fall back asleep.
In a moment she could hardly believe, she thought she had seen her mother standing by her bedside, staring at her unblinking and motionless. Half of her face was cloaked in the shadow, the dim light casting an eerie aura over her features. Her eyes gleamed mysteriously in the dark.
It was rather… unsettling.
"That explains the mismatched shoes," Margaret chuckled, pointing at Leila's feet. In her rush to get to work while still half-asleep, she had accidentally worn two different shoes.
Leila's eyes widened in shock as her face flushed with embarrassment. Margaret laughed heartily at her baffled expression. Leila's lips turned downward. "It's not funny."
Margaret laughed even harder, tears streaming down her face from the amusement.
Margaret was Leila's sole friend in town. With her humor, charm, beauty, and intelligence, she was a vibrant presence, a sharp contrast to Leila, who often felt gloomy and withdrawn. Margaret's gentle aura put everyone at ease, making her somewhat famous in town, while Leila remained on the outskirts, largely ignored.
Despite their significant differences, Margaret clung to Leila like an unwelcome shadow. No matter how hard Leila attempted to create distance, Margaret followed her around like a lost puppy. Eventually, Leila resigned herself to the reality of their friendship, accepting Margaret's presence despite her initial reluctance.
Leila pouted and turned away, trying to ignore her. She glanced down at her shoes, one black, the other brown and buried her face in her hands. How did this happen?! She hoped no one would notice.
As time passed and the rush of customers slowed, the exhausted young girl finally caught a moment to relax. Resting her head on the counter, she stared blankly at the clock. Soon, it would be closing time.
"It has been quite a busy day." Margaret leaned against the wall and remarked. Leila hummed in response. Margaret stretched and groaned. "My back is hurting me."
"How's your mother?"
Her mood soured at the mention of her mother. Biting her bottom lip, she replied. "She's not dead yet."
Margaret shuddered. "That's a cold response. I wonder how she will feel if she happens to hear this."
Leila rolled her eyes and chose to remain silent.
After a moment of silence, Margaret spoke up, her tone contained a hint of sorrow. "Charles has not yet wrote back."
Charles was Margaret's childhood friend and also... first love. Ever since young, she followed him around, harbouring a secret affection that slowly bloomed in her heart. Despite her deep feelings, Margaret lacked the courage to reveal her love for him openly.
Charles was a charming and attractive young man from a well-respected family. His smile revealed two adorable dimples that made all the ladies swoon in admiration. However, the constant attention he received only intensified Margaret's timidity, leaving her feeling inadequate and unworthy of his affection.
Leila would watch in sympathy as her helpless in love friend stare longingly at her crush. As the emotions grew intense, Margaret finally decided to confess. Unfortunately before she could, Charles declared that he was leaving to become a knight like his father.
The small light of hope that had ignited in Margaret's heart was extinguished, her dreams shattered like glass. Helplessly, she could only watch him leave, vowing to herself that she would confess her feelings when he returned.
Determined to maintain a connection, Margaret began sending Charles letters, which he occasionally replied to. But now, four months had passed with no response. The silence gnawed at her, making the poor maiden increasingly anxious.
Leila, never good with comforting words, silently patted Margaret's shoulder in an attempt to console her.
"What about you?" Margaret asked suddenly, forcing a smile as she changed the subject.
"What about me?" Leila muttered, caught off guard.
"Do you have anyone you fancy in town?" Margaret's eyes sparkled mischievously, a gossipy look flitting across her face.
Leila's lips twitched in annoyance. "No," she replied flatly.
Even if there were someone, who would dare reciprocate her feelings? Her reputation in town had long been tarnished by malicious rumors.
"There must be someone! What about that guy who always sits in the corner, staring at you? He looks like he's interested," Margaret teased, her tone playful.
Leila sighed, exasperated. "He doesn't like me. The way he stares… it's like he wants to pounce on me and strangle me, not confess his love."
Margaret burst into laughter, but Leila's expression remained serious. "I'm not joking," she added. "I can feel his dislike, his hostility. He must have heard all the gossip about me."
Their eyes shifted toward the corner of the pastry shop. A young man sat with his legs crossed, sipping tea. His intense gaze bore into Leila, making the hairs on her neck stand on end.
"He's so creepy!" Leila shuddered and turned away hastily.
"Stop exaggerating," Margaret chided. "You just need to talk to him. You don't want to die a spinster, do you? Life's too dull for that! Every girl dreams of marrying a handsome man, having kids, growing old together..."
As Margaret rattled on about love and marriage, Leila tuned her out, her mind wandering to a memory from the night before.
She recalled waking up to the sound of her door creaking open. Through half-closed eyes, she saw her mother, Rosaline, tiptoeing into her room. Pretending to be asleep, Leila lay still, curious about what her mother was doing.
Rosaline stopped by her bedside, unmoving, her shadow looming over her daughter. The silence stretched unbearably, each second like a drop of water echoing in a vast cavern. Leila's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to keep her breathing steady.
What is she doing? Leila wondered anxiously. Is she planning to kill me quietly in the middle of the night?
Minutes passed. Five, then ten. Rosaline remained still, her gaze fixed on her daughter. Finally, she stirred. A soft touch landed on Leila's cheek, a fleeting, gentle caress before she pulled her hand back as if burned.
Leila resisted the urge to open her eyes, her confusion mounting. Moments later, she heard the sound of shuffling footsteps. Peeking through her lashes, she saw her mother's retreating figure.
At the door, Rosaline hesitated, turning back for one final look. Her expression was a storm of emotions: pain, sorrow, affection, and something else...resolution. Then she was gone.
"Leila!" Margaret's voice snapped her back to the present, accompanied by a vigorous shake.
"Huh?" Leila blinked, dazed.
"Were you even listening to me?" Margaret demanded, hands on her hips.
"I…" Leila faltered, unsure what to say. What was she talking about?
Margaret groaned in frustration. "How could you zone out after everything I said?" She grabbed Leila's cheek and tugged, making her friend yelp in protest.
"It hurts! It hurts!" Leila cried, her eyes glistening with tears as she clasped her hands together in a silent plea for mercy.
Their playful squabble was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell chiming. The door swung open, and both girls turned their heads simultaneously to see who had entered.
Margaret's jaw dropped. Leila raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The entire pastry shop fell silent.
"Oh my," Leila murmured, a smirk tugging at her lips. "What do we have here?"