Tangled Destinies: Love, Loss and Second Chances

By Maze

Meet Elizabeth Carson, an engineering graduate, who has a near-to-perfect life, a nice home, lovely parents, best of friends, an almost double-degree in hand, money to spend, places to be and a job in progress. But--When Lucas, who taught her how beautiful falling in

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Rose Publishers
• Release date: May 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9789362615640

Book preview

Mr. Stranger?

After a couple of long hours, I was in Paris, the City of Love. We had a long list of things to do but also a budget to maintain. Since Hannah visits Paris more often, she knew her way around, which was not good for us, Have some rest. Tonight, I’ll take you to the most expensive club where you’ll treat me she declared.

We drove to the club when the sun left our sight. The ambiance of the place was pleasant yet rushed with the people who seem to have fallen in love with the city, waving their bodies to the music like everyone was captivated by some magnetic darkness of the club whilst the flashy lights that shone, added a ray of liveliness to this place.

As soon as we entered, few of Hannah’s friends greeted us. She has connections everywhere, any place on this planet. I bet she befriends some aliens too. Adding another jewel to her crown, she is multi-lingual.

"Now this is a good place" Ryan grinned looking at the hotness.

How could you manage–

To look smart and sexy at the same time?

To be an asshole and a jerk at the same time I stated.

Stop it you two! Hannah groaned.

I seriously need to find a better company Ryan said.

Can you even get one apart from us?

Exactly! Look at the competition you have here I drooled over the French richness.

You have no value for such a handsome friend you have he scoffed and walked into the crowd. While we were scanning the room full of jaw-dropping sights, someone caught Hannah’s attention, The guy in the black blazer. Damn. He is the definition of hotness

I looked at the sight to find a man who not only seemed to have caught the attention of her but everyone around. One glance and his soul-capturing presence rose my heartbeat in a hot second and yet I managed to say, He is not my type

Are you kidding?

Eh– I mumbled.

Get a pair of glasses

Shut up!

We’ll see– she stopped over hearing her name called, I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t get lost soon she was dragged by her friends to the dance floor. As usual, I took a seat in an empty corner of the bar counter, and slipped my iPods on. While I scanned the room, the same stranger that was not my type caught my attention. Again.

He was taller than six foot. The suit I first noticed was now gone. The savagely built body was clearly imaginable through his fitting white shirt with rolled-up sleeves that did no mercy in hiding his muscular arms and the out-bursting veins. Is he on steroids or something?

Might I add that the wristwatch on his hand completed his outfit. It seemed like he just got off work and didn’t have any time for an outfit-change yet he looked perfect. He carried himself with such ethnicity like he wanted people to notice him without making an effort, and it worked. He didn’t look a day older than 25 but such confidence doesn’t come at that age so maybe he was 28 or something. His darkest brown hair covering the arch of his eyes, lying playfully low, with the short stubble beard that enhanced his sharp jaw-line added a coin to his teeming charm. He had a devilish grin on his face that seem to have an inebriating effect yet the dimple on the left side of his cheek camouflaged him into an angel of innocence. Oops, I guess I’m caught–

I lazily took my eyes off him like he never existed but the curious brain was peaky enough to notice him approaching me.

Done checking me out? the stranger affirmed with a self-satisfactory smile. His British accent alarmed my brain to stay in control.

Excuse me? I tried playing dumb, ignoring the exquisite French cologne that my olfactory sense sniffed, spell-bounding me for a moment. Did the petals from heaven fall on earth?

You don’t have to feel guilty. I’ve known to have that effect on people he snapped to get me out of my hypnosis.

Sure I scoffed avoiding any sort of eye contact as he took a seat next to me.

Can I buy you a drink?

No thanks

Strange

What’s so strange than you barging in?

You. My sincere apologies but I can’t seem to ignore that sitting at a bar counter, alone, right in front of a hot bartender, you haven’t ordered yourself a drink and now when a reputable man asked you to offer one, you denied? Either you are taken or heartbroken. Your lonesome smile implies it’s the latter he asserted with certainty.

It’s wrong of you to be so presumptuous I sneered.

I don’t presume. I know

Could you care to justify? I asked. No matter how cold I was pretending to be, I was starting to enjoy the conversation.

You have iPods on in a crowded club, which you are trying to cover with your hair, implies you are lonely but don’t want any attention. You crossed your legs the moment you saw me approaching, trying to cope up with the intensity of heat you felt, I suppose he grinned, "Now you are circling your fingers trying to avoid the nervousness. You are not ready to make eye contact, because maybe you are intimidated by me or too scared to let me see the vulnerable side of you, which justifies my assumptions. Do I know enough?" he asked and that’s when I looked at him and it felt like the world around me faded.

Even in the faint lights, if I vividly give a detail, his eye color was electric blue with a tint of black that summed up to give a silvery blue shade. It was unique, oceanic. His gaze was intoxicatingly innocent and bemused yet somehow alarming and intense. It was keen but calm, secretive but honest. How in heaven must anyone have the right to own such compelling eyes? The sins anyone would commit to please those beautiful eyes–

His phone buzzed and despite the powerful will to not break the mystical link, he took his eyes off me to look at the screen, I would love to stay but duty calls. See you around the stranger said and soon vanished into the crowd like thin smoke. I didn’t see him again the entire night.

As soon as we reached our rooms, Ryan and Hannah bombarded me with questions, How was that guy? How did you get his attention? she asked.

"I’ve a better question. Who was that guy?" Ryan stood there expecting an answer that I didn’t have.

I don’t know

His name? he asked and nada, Uh-huh. I get it. But we are not here forever. You’ve to forget about your prince charming

Come on! No need to forget anything. I can get his contacts and it's high time, she should move on– Hannah’s words trailed back to the topic I tend to avoid.

I’ve had enough of this move-on lecture. I’m not clung to the past. I’m just not ready for the future. So, nothing’s happening anytime soon. I’m going to bed I frowned and left. I felt guilty for my untamed behavior but no matter how compelling one’s gaze was, my heart longed for something else.

In order to move on, one needs a very strong will. He was more than a mere word boyfriend or perhaps ex-boyfriend. He may have gifted me the pain of losing him, yet I cannot just forget the happiness he gave me, the finest moments we’ve shared, the endless laughter, the nerve-tingling intimacy, ever-cherishing adventures, and heartening memories. I still remember how it all started.

Freshmen

Few years ago, College Freshmen Year:

I was in some random class that I didn’t care to listen. It was from one of those lecturers who themselves had no idea what quantum physics was. Forget about the essence of engineering, mechanics of materials was dead. There were times I doubted my decision of taking up this course. But it’s not like every lecture sucked. There were certain subjects that fascinated me to the roots of my being, starting with Design, Manufacturing and Thermal engineering. They were overwhelming.

As soon as the professor left, some senior students walked in along with Lucas Stinson, my first crush who dates back to my pre-high school days. Just the mere sight of him had me trembling, with flutters in my heart.

I had a crush on a boy who now seemed to have grown into a man. I might be exaggerating but so much had changed since I last saw him, years ago. The lean physique he had was transformed into rogue-athletic body with tanned complexion due to heavy football training that added a crown to his masculine personality. The baby-cute face was nowhere to be seen. He had the same jet-black hair with loose curls, covering his incentive brown eyes but the beard that once barely grew was now fully grown and shaped to his charm. He looked intense. I remember every detail of him since junior high school but I don’t think he remembers me, not now at least. We used to go to the same dance class in suburbs till the sophomore year of high school, until one day, he stopped coming.

A random guy of our class said, We need to leave

You’ll speak only if we allow you to one of the seniors glared at him. I’ve heard that this was a regular practice here, seniors ragging freshers to create chaos and fear but at the end they would be the one that’d help us get through real shit. Like getting bullied was a homage paid in order to not get bullied. Strange but it did exist.

Few decent tasks and some questions later, varying from facet to fashion, the last question popped up, Who’s good at dance?

After a little murmur, some of my classmates raised hands, including Hannah.

You Lucas pointed at Hannah. Great. This girl never gives up on having extra attention.

What? she boldly asked.

Not you. The girl next to you he pointed at me. What the hell.

I never asked for it I exclaimed.

I never asked your permission either he said.

I don’t dance to please anyone

Okay he walked towards me until I had to raise my head to look at him. I could hear my heart beat in my throat, I don’t know how the conversation went from okay to––Then how about having a dance off? If you win, I’ll do whatever you say but if I win you need to serve me for a week. Deal?

Deal I said in the heat of the moment, which I shouldn’t have. He was the one who taught me how to dance in the first place. And who challenges their teacher? Me.

The music began with no warning signs. I started off well, my body was in tune with the music, like the rhythm controlled my movements. Soon we circled each other, our gaze remained locked. Neither of us stopped. There was hellfire spread with the rage we held yet the co-ordination we had was effortless. We were in sync as we spun around like no one was watching. I was doing just fine until he grabbed my hand and swirled me close.

He oh-so casually slid his hand across my waist, arching me back to an angle so perfect that it felt like every moment was pre-planned. His hands moved my body like he controlled me. It was so graceful and fluid that it seemed like we breathed the music. One swirl and he pulled me close to his chest, looking into my eyes like I mattered. Like I was the only one that mattered. I know it was a false hope and it didn’t make any sense but my body stopped sensing. His one touch brought the trunks of memories that I had buried in the ocean of my tears. I was hopelessly head over heels for him, might seem cliché for one but he meant the world to me, until he vanished. And now, years later he stands in front of me like a complete stranger.

He left without a word like I never mattered, like I was just another kid who fell for his charm. That I was never the girl he said he’d always remember. Where was he when I danced in silence, with tears being my only partner and wind being my audience? Trying to recreate the memories of us dancing together. I danced in air, tripping over and over again, with bruises on my knees and heart alike, unhealed, being tampered with again and again until I bled tears and blood alike, leaving behind scars of both physical and emotional vandalism. Yet why does every cell in my body remembers every essence of his touch? Even the tiniest details of the briefest moments. Why am I ready to lose again if its a fight with him? Why am I ready to bleed, if it’s to dance with him again? Why does my heart still wants to flutter despite having its wings torn to shreds?

He smiled as his fingers brushed against my cheeks You look even more beautiful now, Lizz he whispered and before I could interpret what was said, he twirled me aside as I stood there without a move and that’s when the music stopped and I lost.

That’s cheating! I scowled.

Did we make any rules before the bet? he asked, As per the deal you’ll serve me for a week. A bet is a bet. See you soon Lucas impishly smiled while he called out one of his classmates to take down some names and walked out of the class. Turns out, the reason they asked who could dance was for the college fest that was due in three months and that we had auditions next week. So basically, I got into a mess for no damn reason. Everyone was happy, specifically Ryan who couldn’t stop laughing.

Hannah! Stop his laughter before I break a bone I frowned.

Honestly, I hadn’t even open the trunk of memories because if I did, I knew there was no turning back so I turned a blind eye. It was one-sided back then. I was seventeen and it was all me, desperate for his attention, feeling miserable, not having any clue of where things headed, I was walking down the road with no destination. I didn’t want to feel that again and I was not a little girl anymore. So, I decided to bury my feelings and tried to burn the touch I just felt was so real. Again.

Dry the plant before it grows into a forever-lasting tree.

But it’s not easy as it seems. We often try to control things that are beyond one’s power. Life is so dynamic that one thing felt so strongly today might seem nothing tomorrow, likewise one decision which I swore to follow even in the deepest parts of my heart soon meant nothing, the burnt ashes were unburned, the buried feelings flooded back to life, the rusted trunk of memories was re-discovered, all because of one damned line.

As per the bet, I had to serve him for a week which means I had to see him every single day, pretending to be a stranger he never knew. I avoided any familiar conversation, anything that connected our pasts yet the paths were destined to meet. One such frenzied day, while I was still struggling to keep my feelings at bay, I got a message from the master himself,

~ Meet me at the gym in 5 minutes

I rushed to the gym which was on the third floor, What do you want? I barged in only to watch him working out. Look at that sweaty body–

Done staring at me?

What do you want?

You Lucas said as he walked closer, taking my bag off my shoulders, he placed it on the near-by shelf, You know what the best part of wining the bet is?

Making me work all day? I jeered.

You are such a dork– he traced his knuckles against my cheek-line, following his fingers down until he reached my hand. I didn’t move. I just couldn’t. He tipped his fingers with mine, raising them up while looking at me as the world moved in slow motion. There was silence and the only voice I heard was our heartbeats, in sync, as he intertwined his fingers with mine, closing them into a firm bond, But I still like you

What?!

Present Time:

It was pretty much like being swept off the ground. He likes me? Goddamn he just said he likes me. Wait does he really like me? Or he just like likes me and not like actually likes me? Okay, I don’t need to freak out because he just likes me, not that he loves me. Oh wait, love is too strong to use.

It’s pretty confusing but these were the exact thoughts that were running on my mind that day. And now here I am, laughing at these sweet memories like it was just yesterday, assuming he was my forever, which he wasn’t.

Listed Days in Paris

Get up!

Why? Ryan groaned in sleep.

My grumpy little prince, get your lazy ass off the bed. We just have five days in Paris and we must visit all these places on my list. Come on I dragged him out of the bed.

I hate you he skreiched throwing away the blanket and went to the bathroom. Lucas and I used to travel a lot. Road trips were our thing. We didn’t particularly have any destination on mind, the wind was our guide. It was his idea that not having defined a destination would only make the journey better. But now it’s me and my made-up list. Trying to do things differently.

Okay. Let’s begin! with these three magical words, our journey to explore Paris began.

Day one. We chose to walk, it was such a Parisian thing to do. The rich culture and history of the city can truly be experienced by ambling on the paved paths, exploring the true essence of this city. It was a day we had saved to immerse in Parisian fashion. Hannah suggested looking into some of the famous vintage shops in Marais neighborhood with its picturesque streets filled with small cute stores, cafes and restaurants. After some shopping, it was time for some street art. If you haven’t seen the Parisian-street art, you’ve never seen Paris’s true beauty. It is the bridge link between the city’s history and modern era. It signifies unique views of the city, representing its culture at best.

Day two. It was reserved for exploring French Impressionism. We took a tour around Montmartre neighborhood and learnt more about the impressionist painters that used to live and work there. The streets and houses in the neighborhood still looked the same as they did in 19th century. Somethings never change and maybe it’s for the better because this old street’s beauty was mystical.

After some tarte tatin, we continued to Musee d’Orsay. That is a museum with most famous industrial architecture and modern paintings. The building in which the museum is located is a piece of history itself. Back in 19th century it was a train station which is now converted to the museum. Having recharged after a delicious lunch at Les Antiquires, we went to the place I dreamt of visiting since ages.

Notre Dame, it was perhaps France’s most beautiful landmark, standing tall at the heart of the city for centuries. But its history was forever changed when few years ago a massive fire broke out causing the medieval structure’s spire to collapse. Looking at that created a sense of loss, it still looked beautiful, for my imaginations were an understatement to the actuality of its architecture. That day I couldn’t see anything further. My soul needed that pause.

Day three. The place that always caught my attention, I was standing right in front of it, the much-needed look of the glorious Eiffel Tower. I suspected to have a long queue but damn! It was a holy crowd. No wonder Paris is never an off-season. There were multiple lines for visitors heading up – more for lifts and few for the courageous people who were willing to take stairs and we were one of them. First level was perfect to take pictures. The champs de Mars, Les Invalides and La Basilique du Sacre Coeur, you could see it all. By the time we reached the second floor, around 700 steps, I had seen my death twice. It was grueling but fun. Looking down was quite scary but I loved heights, as long as my legs stayed on ground or anything stable. The second level had the panoramic view of the city.

It was windy and freezing cold at the top. It wasn’t astonishing that Eiffel Tower has been the icon of Paris. A place made of nothing but iron was filled with love. I guess it’s not just the monuments which assign Paris as the city of love, but the people. They are so welcoming and kind that even a newbie would feel at home. That view from the top, it was the exact kind of adrenaline rush I had been searching for. I did nothing but stand there for as long as time permitted, embracing every chill and warmth of the magnificent City of Lights. I had locked those views in my brain forever.

Day four. After a tiresome adventure, we stopped by Café Rive Droite, to have dinner. While I was peacefully stuffing some food, there was a karaoke announcement made, We have an amazing performer coming on stage tonight. He is known to be the traveler with treasures, please welcome Mr. Aryan! the announcer left the stage and the lights dimmed.

Couple of minutes later, a ravishingly young man with a guitar in his hand, head