Lost and Found Pages

Gazing up at the clear blue sky, I smiled and then closed my eyes. Experiencing the chill of the breeze against my skin while the blazing sun shines overhead, as I sit beneath a large tree, is one of the most delightful sensations. It was so relaxing. Other than that, was the sound of the leaves rustling and the chirping of the birds. When was the last time I came to a peaceful place like this? I could hardly remember. I was so riveted with my job, and I had no time to unwind.

"Hmmm...so good to be back here in Snowdonia."

I truly loved the summer here, especially in Beddgelert Village. I've been to many parts of North Wales, but this one was one of my favorite places, because of its simplicity, picturesque, and unspoiled scenery. There are also a lot of scenery activities and attractions that people can enjoy during summer.

Right now, I was only a few feet away from the grave of Gelert. The faithful hound, according to history, was mistakenly killed by its owner named Llywelyn, Prince of North Wales, in the 13th century. Prince Llywelyn, returned home from hunting only to be greeted by Gelert, his faithful dog, covered in blood and the baby's crib was empty. The prince was horrified, and, without a second thought, he plunged his sword toward the poor hound, thinking it had killed his only heir to the throne. From its dying yell, the prince heard a baby's cry. Seeing his child alive and unharmed, a dead wolf lying near the child made him confused. Realization hit him with the fact that his faithful dog, Gelert, had actually saved the baby from a wolf. The prince was filled with remorse and was said to have never smiled again after that day. He buried Gelert and the spot was named Beddgelert.

A very sad story indeed.

I gently rubbed my hands on the green grass while breathing in the fresh air. Grinning, I opened my eyes, rolled over, and reached for my precious book of memoirs. Laying on my stomach, I grabbed my pen and started sketching a tree, then the sun, the birds, and lastly, me.

In the corner of the paper, I wrote the date and time.

"Perfect." I smiled brightly.

Placing my diary beside me, I gazed up at the sky. "I should have brought my little sister, Adaira, with me. I know she will love this place as well," I muttered to myself.

My smile was replaced by a sigh.

I clicked my tongue.

"If only my father allowed her to." Grunting, I rose to sit and hugged both of my knees.

Who would have thought that the heiress to the throne chose to have a simple life in the countryside and live like a normal person?

And now here I am, abandoned and forgotten.

My father hated my guts, and my mom? Well, she tried to defend me a little, but ultimately, still couldn't do anything about it since my father set the household rules. My mother was merely a decoration to the house. She's not that tough to order around the house and doesn't have the strength to disobey my ruthless father. My father does not consider her opinion to be significant. She's a puppet-poor mother.

I can't even remember a single memory of my parents exchanging intimate gestures or conversations. Why did they even get married if they didn't love each other? She couldn't answer my questions even though I tried to understand their situation. My mother kept her mouth shut. It's frustrating.

Weird.

All she did that night was cry and cry. Begging my father not to disown me. However, since I had no choice, I decided to move away to steer clear of the toxic and negative households. I had even insisted my mother get a divorce so she could be free and live a happy and peaceful life, but she gravely disagreed. Her face splashed with shock and horror because of that.

"Are you out of your mind, Fleur? I love your father, and he needs me! What you're asking me is foolish! Are you hearing yourself?"

"Foolish? This isn't foolishness, mother. Do you know what is? You, letting yourself be his slave and a puppet! Blind by love that only you can feel! Did he ever hold your hand or hug you? Even treat you as a wife and not a housemaid? Really? How can you act as if this isn't a big deal while he's crawling under another woman's skirt!?"

"That's-"

"No, Mother! I've been silent for many years! Why can't you decide for yourself? For your happiness. Being the wife of a self-centered billionaire isn't happiness! You're torturing yourself."

"It's because I set aside that happiness you're talking about! I need to fight for your rights to be the sole heiress! I can't let your stepsister get what is rightfully yours! I won't allow his mistress and daughter the privilege of inheriting a single penny from your father! I don't want them to be happy! I can't let them enjoy things they don't initially deserve! That's why I can't divorce him! Yes, I knew that he didn't feel the same way I did. He can't love me since I only seduced him and our parents forced us to get married, but I had accepted that fact long ago, while you were still in my womb."

I angrily tossed the pillow into a corner of my bedroom. "But did you even consider how these things affect me and Adaira? Have you even checked on her if she's okay? Do you know how depressed she was knowing she'd be forced to marry some random man she didn't even know for the sake of money? He can't even see us as his daughters! He sees us as pawns! Now, I know money can't buy happiness. Maybe to some, but in our case? We both know the answer, Mother. I can't live like this anymore. If you don't want to come, then I will take Adaira with me."

"You can't do that! Your fath-"

"What?" I enquired. "What will he do? I'm not even surprised by what he can do, and I'm not afraid of him! If he can't treat us as family, then at least he should treat us as human beings! But I hardly believe we would even do the latter. He's a monster!"

Stepping out of my room, I headed to Adaira's bedroom, only to see my father holding a belt and my little sister lying on the floor covered in red marks and bruises on her arms, legs, and neck, even on her beautiful innocent face. Her cheeks were drenched in tears. So weak to stand on her own. She raised her head, and I saw her eyes gleam a little after seeing me. As if she's telling me I'm her hero. My poor Adaira.

I was so horrified by the scene. Seeing her being punished by whipping, flashed a slide of memories when I was in her place. My father beat me when I started dating an ordinary man during high school. My father wasn't pleased when he found out. I have scars on my back and a fractured nose. My mother was screaming and holding his arms, pleading with him to stop. But it doesn't end there. Now, my sister has experienced the same type of mistreatment.

"How dare you do this to my sister!"

My father shifted his gaze at me. His dark and evil face bored me and I didn't feel scared anymore. This is too much!

Cocking his head, he raised an eyebrow at me. "What? Do you want to join her?"

He lifted his hand with the belt and was about to strike. I was so ready but my mother stepped in between us, spreading her arms to protect me.

"Please stop! Don't hurt our daughters! Have mercy on them! Just do it to me! Hurt me! Not them!"

His hand stopped in mid-air, giving my mother a disgusted look on his face. Then, he lowered his hand, walked to my mother, and jabbed a finger at her temple. Nudging her head to the side.

"You bitch! Creating more useless women and spending my money!"

I chuckled, catching his attention. His eyes averted at me.

"Well, if you didn't stick your useless dick inside my mother, we wouldn't be here! We won't be seeing the most evil person we have ever known! Since we are also your blood and flesh, how sad you're also referring to yourself! So weak that you only have the guts to raise a hand on women!"

I saw his face turn darker and his jaw tightened while glaring at me. My mother whirled around to face me with her mouth open and her eyes widened in utter disbelief.

"Don-"

Before she could finish her words, my father shoved her so roughly that she nearly stumbled on her feet and kissed the cold floor.

"So, you can manage to fight me now, young girl? Let's see how far you can be tough and be stubborn when you can no longer feed yourself!"

"Oh, I can feed myself without spending your precious money. You can shove it up your mistress' ass! That's what you do best, shoving!"

The sound of a slap echoed in every corner of the room, leaving everyone shocked and speechless.

Turning my head to face him once more, I smirked and cleared my face from my disheveled hair strands. "See what I mean, father? Or should I even call you that?"

His face twitched in irritation and was about to slap me again when my sister grabbed his hand. "Don't!" she said with a stern and shaky voice. ".... I will do what you want. I will marry him. Just don't hurt Fleur anymore!"

My father pulled her hand from Adaira's grip. "Wise decision! And you!..." Pointing a finger at me. "I want you out of my house! I don't want to see your face anymore! I will forget I ever had a daughter like you!"

"I thought you already forgot. How touching."

Adaira gazed at me, pleading with me to stop.

"Out! You ungrateful bitch!"

"You don't have to. I already planned to do so. But my mother and Adaira will be coming with me! Away from a ruthless creature like you!"

Grabbing Adaira's hand, my evil father held onto her, stopping my sister from leaving the room with me. We were tugging her back and forth.

"Let go of her! You can't force my little sister to do anything you want!" I shouted.

"I'm the father. Of course, I can!"

"No!" my mother yelped on her knees, grabbing her chest.

Still not letting go of Adaira's hand. She looked at me and bit her lower lip. Her perfect eyes gleamed with painful tears which shot a tug into my heart. "Please, Fleur. Let me go. I promise I'll be fine."

Her words crushed my heart into pieces. "No! You're coming with me. We will move away from this hell house!"

"Please, Fleur. It's going to be okay," begging me in her soft and innocent voice. My throat felt dry as I slowly let go of her hand and my father roughly pulled her to his back.

"Get out of my house!" he screamed at me, pointing at the door.

Both of my fists clenched in anger, giving him a sharp glare, and then my eyes bore my little sister and my weeping mother on the floor. It pains me the most seeing them like this, rather than my situation before being beaten up. How can I save them from my evil father since they chose to stay behind?

Glaring back at my father, I stepped forward. "You think that you won? Celebrate now. Your karma is just around the corner."

I snapped out of my time traveling to my past. I grabbed a rock and threw it into the river just a few feet from where I sat.

It's been seven years since I ran away from home and here I am, trying to live in peace but still haunted by my past from time to time. I've never seen them since I left. I miss my little sister. Her genuine smile and laugh every time I joked around. Talking nonstop during the night while gazing up at the shimmering sky full of stars, sharing our thoughts and dreams. She's not just my sister, she's my best friend, my lifelong partner in crime.

I remember when we were both chased by a dog. I helped her climb a tree by holding her hand and pulling her up, but she ended up falling on top of that dog, which made it whimper rather than bark before running away. We both laughed, holding hands while walking back to our house. Our mother scolded us for seeing our clothes covered with mud, especially Adaira's bottom. She hurriedly took us a bath and clothed us before our father came home from work.

"I knew you would be here," says a cheery male voice from behind me. Looking up to my side, I placed my hand to cover my eyes from the brightness of the sun to see his beaming expression.

"Hello, Simon." Gesturing him to sit beside me and he did. He's holding two ice creams in a cup with a spoon and a box of pizza.

"Where did you get those?" I asked, grinning. Just looking at it makes me hungry.

"In Glaslyn Artisan." He sat beside me and handed me the ice cream.

"Thank you." My eyes beamed at my favorite ice cream flavor, cookies n' cream. I started eating it.

Grabbing my diary again with my other hand, I opened it to where my last drawing was. Beside the woman lying under the tree, I started sketching another person holding an ice cream.

"I guess I won't be asking you who that might be," he said, smiling at me, then looking down at my sketch while munching on his slice of pizza. He gestured with his hand in front of my mouth, indicating that I should take a bite, which I did.

"Yummy," I said, enthusiastically.

Simon is my friend. I do have a lot of friends, but Simon is my closest one. He's like a brother to me, and I was glad I met him. He makes me happy in every way possible. He's my personal clown, to be exact.

I chuckled as I finished my drawing. "There."

"Nice." He said, nodding. He grabbed my diary and leafed through the pages while I snatched the pizza from his hand and ate it.

Yes, he's the only person I could trust to see what's in it. I am very comfortable with that. He's a brother to me, so why not?

Then, I saw him frown, and then the corner of his lips lifted. "You really included it here that day I nearly stumbled upon a cow's dung?"

"Why? It was memorable," I giggled, snatching back my diary from his hands.

"But not to me, you silly girl." He was grinning at me despite his stunned expression.

"Well, it's my diary, so it's on me what content I wish to write here. You should do the same."

He shrugged, picking another slice of pizza. "No need. I remember every detail of my best memories."

"You should also remember the worst one."

His gaze shifted to the water and his eyes became sullen. "Of course. You can't differentiate the best memories if there are no bad ones. But for me, the bad ones weren't important. Whether it's big or small. We only live once, so we need to focus on the good and best memories. Live your life to the fullest, as everybody says."

A small smile formed my lips. That's true but not entirely.

"What if those bad memories really had a disastrous effect on you and were holding you back to make good ones?"

He stared back at me with his frowning eyebrows. "Then leave it behind. You should learn to let go and forgive yourself for whatever happened in the past. You can't change it. Nobody can. But you still have a chance not to do it again. Move forward. Just go with the flow. I know this may sound easy, but trust me, it works."

I finished my ice cream. Then I gave him a warm smile and then leaned over to his shoulder. "Thank you, Simon."

He chortled. "For what?"

"For being my clown and best friend," I said, jabbing a finger against his rib. He twitched and then leaned his cheeks against the top of my head.

A moment of silence fell on us. The wind blew, and it made the leaves above us rustle. A dried leaf fell on my lap. Picking it up, I examined it, circling the tip of it around my two fingers.

"You've been thanking me numerous times. Aren't you tired?" He said in a soft tone of voice.

I chuckled. "Why would I? I will thank you for the rest of my life."

He hissed. "That's touching," he said, grinning.

"You deserve to be thanked, so stick with it." I blew the dry leaf from my hand.

"Because you deserve to be treated well. Everyone does."

I didn't reply. I clung to his arm and closed my eyes gently.

Simon does wonders in my life. He's the reason I kept moving forward. I thought I would never meet a person like him. Kind, protective, understanding, a true gentleman, who doesn't know the word quitting for some reason. The moment I first saw him walking through the crowd on a busy street, holding a pile of books and a bag of fruit while an old lady was clinging to his arm, I knew he was a good and kind man. I followed his gesture with my gaze until they both reached the opposite side of the street. The old lady thanked him and patted his cheek, even gave him an apple from her plastic bag.

I was grinning because it was such a touching moment, making me unaware of the bunch of people rushing along the side of the walkway, bumping into me and making me stumble forward, but strong arms wrapped around my shoulder, holding me steady. That's when I saw his face looking down on me.

"Are you okay, miss?" he worriedly asked. Supporting me to stand straight.

I moved back, so he let go of me.

"Thank you, Sir." I awkwardly mumbled. He extended his hand containing my diary, and I didn't notice that it fell on the ground.

"Simon. My name is Simon."

I glanced at him, surprised by his abrupt introduction, and then he offered his hand for a shake. I was hesitant but eventually, I accepted it.

"Fleur."

I felt his sudden movement beside me. I slowly opened my eyes.

"We should go back to the car. We need to get to London before the sun set."

He rose to his feet and offered a hand to me. I grabbed it, then he pulled me up. I dusted off some grass from my dress, then picked up my diary, sliding it into my sling bag before catching up behind him.

As we got back to the car, we drove off to our destination, the City of London. It would take us five hours and eighteen minutes to get there.

We've been on the road for like four hours now, and we need one more hour before we reach the capital of England. All I did during our journey was joke around with Simon, tell him a story, then eat, and sketch in my diary. We never ran out of random subjects, so we never got bored.

Initially, I planned to ride a train, but Simon insisted on giving me a ride to make sure I'd get there safely, and he wanted to know if the place I'd be living in was safe. That was so sweet, so instead of arguing with him, I gave up.

From an empty road, now, a bunch of cars were trapped in traffic. Horns were roaring, angry drivers sticking out of their windows, yelling. I couldn't make out what they were saying because of the mixed and loud noises.

"Where are we now?"

"Intersection of Essex Road and Canonbury Road."

Simon also stuck out his head to see the commotion but since he couldn't see it, he got out of the car instead.

"Simon."

"Stay here."

And so I did.

While waiting for his return, I turned on the radio in search of enjoyable music but found none, so I chose to turn it off instead.

Wandering my eyes around, my attention was caught by the black car beside us.

No, not the car, exactly.

But by a man. And not just a man......a gorgeous-looking man in a coat and tie. He was sitting at the back and the window was rolled down. That's why I can see every detail of his side profile. Another thing that caught my eye, was his long hair tied back in a not-so-messy bun. A few strands of hair were clinging down his forehead. His chiseled jaw was clean shaved. His lashes were long and his lips.......

Wait!

As the realization dawned on me, I swiftly reached for my bag, rummaged for my diary and pencil, and began to sketch his face on the paper. Glancing between him and my drawing, a smile crept onto my lips as I was finishing the drawing of his enchanting eyes.

My breath hastened as I imagined his incredible dark sea-colored eyes, reminiscent of the deep ocean or a starlit night sky. It is often described as mysterious and intense, with a depth that can draw anyone in. The richness of the blue, almost navy, gives it a unique and striking appearance.

The last glance I gave him brought chills down my spine. He was now looking back at me. He looked at me in a way that made my body tense. I felt my cheeks redden, and my throat became dry and lumped.

What's wrong with me?

I couldn't look away. It's as if his cold, dark sea-colored orbs were like a magnet, pulling me to dive into it. His eyes carried a sense of mystery that made me want to unleash. Quite the gaze to get lost in. Another thing was that he reacted in a cold, casual way.

My heart skipped when, after at least ten seconds, he broke the staring contest. Now, I feel shy and stupid. He might think that I'm some kind of fan.

Why didn't you look away? The back of my mind scolded me.

Slowly, I bowed down at my diary and gazed at my drawing. Studying his looks, I felt something warm rise inside my chest.

I quickly closed my diary and tucked it into my bag as soon as I saw Simon returning to the car.

I took a swallow, then let out a sigh. My shoulders dropped in relaxation.

"Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Your face looks red," he inquired, concerned by my appearance. I panicked, especially when he raised his hand to touch my forehead.

"I-I'm okay," I said, leaning back my head, and avoiding his hand. I smiled at him reassuringly.

"Are you sure? We can drop by at a pharmacy before-"

"No need. I have meds in my suitcase."

Simon didn't look convinced, but he chose not to say further about my flushed face. "Okay."

I calmed myself and silently sighed in relief. Suddenly, I heard a small voice in the back of my mind telling me to look out my window. Funny because I obeyed, and I don't know why. I am being tormented right now by the urge to glance at the man once more.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I saw him busy talking on his phone.

"There were collisions. Car and two bikers."

Oh yes, I forgot about that. We're in the middle of traffic.

"Really?" I slightly panicked. Glancing back in front, then at Simon. He nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in response. His hands gripped the steering wheel in irritation.

"How bad was it? Did anyone get hurt or injured?"

He shook his head. "Fortunately, none. But definitely, we won't make it on time. There's no other easy and shortcut route other than this, and we can't get out of here. There are too many cars behind us. All we have to do is wait. Besides, police officers were already there, so it won't be long for us to move."

And he was right, it took us about ten more minutes before the vehicles in front of us started moving.

Giving a quick look over my shoulder to my right, I saw his window was already closed. All I could see was his silhouette behind the not-so-tinted glass. I felt a wave of sadness emerge over me....wait...what?

Wait a minute.

Sadness? What the hell are you talking about? The thought of not seeing that stranger makes you sad? Get a hold of yourself!

"Who are you looking at?" I heard Simon's curious voice, interrupting me from my sudden silence. I snapped out and acted innocently. I perked myself and pretended to be busy scrolling down my phone.

"What? What are you talking about?"

He chuckled. "You know what I was talking about. Who was that? Do you know him?"

"Who?" I blinked and pretended to be a bit confused about what he was saying.

Instead of answering me, he shook his head and then rolled his eyes. "Never mind."

Moments later, our car started moving forward, and so was the black car beside us. But when we reached the intersection, the black car drove off to the right while we were heading to the left.

As soon as we stopped in front of a Victorian house, I saw an old lady, standing behind the door with a grocery bag in her hand. I quickly climbed out of the car and jogged quickly in her direction. I caught up to her before she was about to close her door in my face.

"Mrs. Jones? Wait!"

Sliding my foot between the door, the old lady jumped backward. Holding her heaving chest, I smiled at her apologetically.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you Mrs. Jones? The landlady?"

Recovering from my sudden appearance, she perked her thick-lens eyeglasses and scrutinized me from head to toe.

"Who are you, young dearie?" Still holding the door, she refused to open it for me. I removed my foot.

"I'm Fleur Williams..." Yes, I preferred to use my mother's middle name instead of using my father's last name. I hated being a Dawson ".... I was the one who called you yesterday about me renting one of the flat units."

Her wrinkled face abruptly lit up, her mouth gaping. "Oh, it's you, dear."

"Yes, Mrs. Jones. I'm sorry I was late from the time you told me to show up. An accident happened on our way here."

Her mouth gaped.

"Is that so?" an undeniable surge of empathy in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes, Mrs. Jones. I actually wasn't the one who-"

Opening the door, she held my hand. "You must be exhausted."

What a sweet old lady.

I awkwardly smiled. "Quite so, but we're fine. Really."

She sneaked out from behind me, and then a naughty smile formed on her thin lips. "Is that your husband?"

I looked back at where she was pointing at. Simon was busy standing against the hood of his car while wandering his eyes around the area. By the looks of him, he's not impressed by the neighborhood.

"Oh, no. He's just a friend. He insisted on helping me with my stuff and moving here. Well, he won't be living with me, just to clarify that part."

She nodded slowly. There was a bit of...disappointment?

What's with this old lady? Wasn't she convinced?

"Okay. Your flat is right next to my house. Over there." She said, pointing to the left side of her house. An old and tall Victorian-styled red brick building with ornate balconies.

Hmm...looks quite acceptable and comfy. Much better than my previous flat in Wales.

"Wait here, my dear. I will get my keys. Just a moment."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones."

With a sweet smile, the old lady headed inside while I waited patiently on her porch. Like Simon, I also started to wander my eyes around the place until I saw him walk towards me and stand beside me.

"So, what do you think about Gloucester Place?" I asked him brightly, grinning at him.

"Quite nice, but I doubt about the people. Considering the crime ra-"

"Sshh. Just shh." Raising a finger in front of his face. "You're being paranoid. There's no such place in the world that has a zero crime rate."

"Exactly. But at least other places have less than a percent crime rate. Did you see the latest news about three people who were stabbed by phone snatchers?"

"No."

"See? That's why I'm worried about you."

My eyes narrowed. "You're worried about me just because I'm not watching or reading the latest news?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. I'm worried because I don't know what will happen to you for the next few hours when I leave. What if-"

I raised my palm, telling him to stop. I sent him a warm smile. "We talked about these many times before. I thought you already agreed."

"You forced me to agree."

"No, I didn't." My eyebrows were hoisted, and then I squinted at him.

"Yes, you did." He insisted.

"N-"

"Here's the key. Please follow me, Miss....what's your name again dearie?"

Glancing at Mrs. Jones holding a bundle of keys in her hand, I smiled sweetly. "Fleur Williams and this is my best friend, Simon Davies."

The old lady's face beamed at Simon, making me giggle a bit. I sent him a mischievous grin which he snorted in response. Good thing, Mrs. Jones has poor eyesight even though she wears thick glasses.

"Oh, yes. Such a fine man. Very gentleman to accompany this lovely girl and help her with her stuff." Extending her timeworn hand to him. "I'm Ethel Jones. Everybody calls me simply, Mrs. Jones."

Simon gave her a small smile and accepted her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones."

"The pleasure is mine, young man. Now, where were we?"

"Uhmm.. You're going to show me my flat."

"Oh, yes dear. Come along, please." Walking past us, we followed her silently though I knew Simon wanted to argue with me again about me moving to London. He sent me a sideway glare.

Baker Street is a famous street in London's Marylebone district. It's best known as the address of the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes, who lived at 221B Baker Street with his trusty friend Dr. Watson. The Sherlock Holmes Museum is located there, offering fans a chance to explore exhibits related to the famous sleuth. The street itself is bustling with activity, featuring a mix of historic and modern buildings. It's also home to the London Beatles Store and several significant landmarks. Baker Street tube station, one of the oldest in the world, serves the area and makes it easily accessible.

The key's rustling noise echoed through the cold, wet, and one of the oldest streets of London. After a long moment of waiting behind Mrs. Jones, the door creaked open.

"Come in. Let me show you around before you put your stuff inside." She sluggishly walked inside.

I peeked at Simon and I saw him mumbling to himself, which I found funny. As soon as our eyes met, he rolled his eyes again in annoyance and went back to mumbling.

Giggling, I stopped in my tracks and left Mrs. Jones talking to herself. I clung my arms around his arm and pulled him gently towards the entrance. He pulled back his arm, but I tightened my grip while grinning.

"I will smack you in the head later." He grumbled under his breath.

I leaned sideways towards his ear. "And I will do the same thing to you."

He sent me a menacing look and I stuck out my tongue as a response.

Mrs. Jones was saying something in front of us that I couldn't make out since her voice was so low, so we continued walking until we reached the bottom of a staircase. She made a halt in the middle of the stairs and looked back at us.

"Your flat will be on the third floor. My daughter Amy stays on the second floor. I hope you two will get along. She's also your age. She'll be here any moment. Her work hours were done." She said with a beaming expression on her face.

Of course, we will.

Still clinging to Simon's arm, we sluggishly ascended the stairs right behind Mrs. Jones.

Reaching the third floor, Mrs. Jones turned to us. "And here's your flat. Please come in."

She opened the door for us and, believe me, this place is nice. I couldn't suppress my smile and that's the moment I released Simon's arm, then I walked in.

Imagine an old London apartment that retains its vintage charm while being infused with modern touches. With its high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and a sense of history in every corner. The wooden floorboards creak gently underfoot, carrying the echoes of our footsteps.

Soft, natural light filters through the tall, sashed windows, casting a warm glow on the weathered brick fireplace that serves as the room's focal point. Hardwood floors, polished to a gentle shine, maintain their original character with visible grains and knots. The fireplace, though unused, stands as a statement piece, now surrounded by sleek, minimalist furniture. A plush, contemporary sofa and a glass coffee table sit atop a colorful Persian rug, creating a cozy yet stylish living area. A hodgepodge of antique furniture fills the space.

My heart filled with awe and excitement. This place is absolutely relaxing.

Amazing.

Bookshelves, crammed with a mix of classic literature and modern bestsellers, line one wall, while the opposite wall features framed artwork-both vintage prints and contemporary pieces. Industrial-style lighting fixtures, with exposed bulbs, hang from the ceiling, adding a trendy touch to the space. Ornate picture frames and vintage mirrors dot the walls, reflecting the light and adding depth to the cozy, slightly cluttered environment.

"My daughter Amy designed the interior. She wanted to preserve the historical features inside and, at the same time, a touch of modern design." Mrs. Jones stated.

"She's incredible. Where is she?"

"She's out of town on a condo project in a newly opened luxurious hotel in Knightsbridge."

I nodded in slow motion and smiled, then I continued wandering around.

Houseplants and greenery bring life to the room, their vibrant colors contrasting against the muted tones of the decor. The kitchen, though compact, is equipped with the latest appliances, seamlessly blending with the apartment's historical elements. The blend of history and modernity creates a unique ambiance, where every corner feels thoughtfully curated.

The bedroom is simple but comfortable, with clever storage solutions to keep things tidy. The bathroom is small but functional, often with a walk-in shower and up-to-date fixtures. Even in a budget flat, you can expect some modern conveniences like a washer-dryer combo or a small dishwasher. It's all about maximizing space and smart design, so a £1,500 budget, one-bedroom flat per month is enough.

"I like it, Mrs. Jones. This place is cozy."

"Is this your first time here in the City of London?"

I smiled softly. "Uhm, technically yes."

"From which city are you, if I may ask?"

"I'm from Seattle, Washington. That's in America." I grinned at the old homeowner.

Her surprised look was amusing.

"Indeed, dearie? So, that explains your accent. It's good." My smile widened, then I glanced at Simon who was standing against the doorframe of the bedroom. His arms crossed over his chest. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Is he also from America?" she curiously asked. She was pointing at Simon.

"No, he's from Leeds here in England. That's where we met."

She sent us a mischievous grin which I really found amusing.

This old lady was really something and I knew what was behind those smiles. I chuckled silently.