Marriage contract with my best friend

The morning sun of autumn, even hidden behind the clouds, peeks through the windows of the charming cottage in Hallstatt, painting the room with soft, golden hues. The much-awaited day has finally arrived: the interview at the Lockwood Art Museum in Vienna. My hands are trembling with nervousness. I sit down as I watch the carefully chosen clothes spread out on the bed, yet I remain undecided on which one to wear. I've spent days planning every detail, and now it's time to prepare myself for the journey to the big city.

This is an opportunity I can't afford to miss, and I am determined to make a good impression.

I rise from the bed and make my way to the bathroom, where a relaxing bath awaits me. I discard my pajamas into the laundry basket and step into the shower. Turning on the faucet, the warm water starts to flow over my body, washing away the built-up tension. Ever since I applied, I've been studying and reviewing everything I learned in college, as well as the courses I've taken. I know I need to be confident for the interview, and the feeling of freshness after the shower helps calm my nerves.

After stepping out of the shower, I wrap myself in a soft towel and cross the room, but upon glancing at the bed, I realize that none of the options appeal to me. I walk over to my wardrobe, open it, and my eyes are immediately drawn to it: an elegant navy-blue dress that fits me perfectly. I bought it especially for an important occasion, and I believe it's the right choice for this moment. Wearing it, I'll convey professionalism and confidence.

Carefully, I put on the dress, feeling it mold to every curve. Then, I spend some time admiring my reflection in the mirror. My curly brown hair cascades over my shoulders, and I decide to leave it loose, just giving it a touch of definition with a bit of spray. I apply light, natural makeup, enhancing my features without appearing overdone. I grab my coat and my purse, where I had already placed a copy of my resume and some important notes the night before. I open the door to the room, but before stepping out, my gaze turns to the stunning landscape stretching beyond the windows. Hallstatt, the picturesque town by the lake, will always be my refuge and source of inspiration. I know my home will always be here, but now, I need to move forward.

The clock on the bedside table announces it's time to leave. I adjust my dress, make sure everything is in place, and head to the living room. There, a simple breakfast is already prepared, but my nerves make me realize I'm not hungry.

"Good morning, my princess," Grandma says, entering the room with a cake in her hands.

I look at her smiling, walk up to her, and give her a kiss. Since I was little, when I felt sad, I would run into Grandma's arms. Her lap always calmed me like no one else.

"Good morning, Grandma."

"Sit down and have a hearty breakfast before you go."

"I'm not hungry, Grandma."

"Nonsense, sit down and eat. The journey is long."

"Alright," I say, taking my bag off my shoulder and placing it on a chair next to me, along with my coat. I sit down and pour myself a cup of coffee.

Grandma puts a piece of cake on the plate in front of me. I take a bite and start eating...

"Wow!" I exclaim, covering my mouth. She looks at me and smiles. "It's delicious, Grandma," I say after chewing.

"I made it especially for you," she smiles, returning to her meal. "So, how will it be when you get there?"

"I'll have the interview, and if all goes well, I'll be living with Leila."

"Melinda Mitchell's daughter?"

"Yeah, she works at the museum and she helped me a lot. Leila said she spoke about me to the museum owner, and he himself called me for the interview."

"She said that?"

"Yeah, but of course, I also sent out several resumes."

"Look, you know I don't like those people. That girl isn't one to help others. We know that family only does something expecting something in return, and besides, she always likes to keep her things to herself."

Flashback on.

The alarm clock rings, announcing the long-awaited day. I can hardly believe that the time has finally come to pay for the pre-university course. I open the drawer where I kept the money, the result of my savings and Grandma's help. It's all there, counted and organized.

"Today's the day. I'll secure my spot in the prep course," I say, smiling and then start coughing.

I take a deep breath, and I've been like this for a few days now. A stubborn and persistent fever embraces me as I descend the stairs, and Grandma approaches, placing her hand on my forehead.

"What's this, child? You're burning up. Go take a shower and then to bed! I'll make something warm for you to drink," she says, turning away.

"Grandma, today's the day I pay for my prep course. I need to go," I say and start coughing, throwing myself on the couch.

"You're not going anywhere, princess!"

She insists that I stay home, that I take care of myself. I resist, but she manages to convince me.

"Grandma, please, take care of the money. I'll ask Leila to take it to the prep course teacher. I can't miss the registration," My grandmother agrees, and I get up, going to the phone to call my friend.

As soon as I spoke to Leila, she volunteered to help me. I trust her, after all, we've been friends since childhood.

∞••••♥••••∞

"Relax, friend. I'll drop this off there and be back in no time. You'll be fine," I smile and accompany her to the door.

"Thanks, Lê, I don't know what I'd do without you," I say, and she smiles, turning and heading towards the gate.

I enter and throw myself on the couch, curling up on it and turning on the TV.

Days later...

My grandmother was approached by the teacher, demanding payment that, according to him, was not made.

"Grandma, I asked Leila to deliver it. The money was with her!" I say confused.

My grandmother tries to explain it to me, but I don't understand. Leila has always been reliable, at least until now. I go to the phone and call Leila, who answers on the second ring.

"Leila, the teacher is demanding payment from Grandma. What happened?" I ask, and the response doesn't come.

"Ava, I... I lost the money."

"What?" Incredulous, I question, not believing what I'm hearing. "How could you lose it? That's not possible!"

Leila tries to justify, explaining that she was afraid to tell, but her words don't lessen the impact of the revelation.

"You couldn't have just told me? It was my future at stake, Leila!" I say furiously.

"Forgive me, friend, but I was so scared, that's why I didn't tell you."

"Leila, that was wrong, you've harmed me! Why didn't you tell me sooner? We would have figured something out and paid. And now? What am I going to do?"

"I know, Ava. I messed up everything," she says, crying on the phone, and I sigh and hang up.

My grandmother, upon learning the truth, mixes indignation and sadness, takes me by the hand, and we go to Leila's house, which is three houses down from ours. The lost money was not just an amount; it was my dream slipping through my fingers.

"How could you do this, Leila? I trusted you!" I say, sad and holding back tears. "You should have told us, we would have found out anyway."

"If you had told us, Leila, I would have paid for the course," my grandmother says.

"It was a mistake, Ava and Grandma. I should have told you earlier," she says between sobs, her words losing strength.

"Now there's nothing we can do, I just have to make up for it. These things happen, even I could have lost the money myself," I say, sighing.

"I'm sorry!" she says, and I hug her.

"Let's put this behind us and move forward."

Leila smiles, wiping away the tears, and then Grandma and I return home.

"I can't shake the feeling that this story isn't adding up. I'm sure she didn't lose the money at all, and out of anger or jealousy towards you, she didn't pay the teacher. We know she wanted to take this course, and since she couldn't, and you could, she did this out of spite."

"Of course not, Grandma! Leila is my friend."

"Only if she's a friend from hell," she says as soon as we enter the house, heading to the back porch, leaving me alone in the living room.

Flashback off.

Grandma has always been suspicious of Leila, ever since my money went missing when I was a teenager. We never forgot that small loss, but I let it go and understood that she could have actually lost the money and not stolen it as Grandma thinks.

"What's that, Grandma! Leila and I have known each other since we were kids. We planned together to work at the Lockwood Art Museum and agreed that if one of us got in first, we'd recommend the other," I say, taking another sip of my coffee.

"Oh, and it's been three years since she's been there."

"Grandma, she couldn't recommend me earlier. We know she needs to have the boss's trust for that."

"Hmm, I see! That girl doesn't fool me. She only gets close to you to drain you or to take advantage of all the good things that happen to you."

"Yuck, Grandma!" I say, looking at my watch. "I need to go, it's a long way to Vienna from here." I wipe my mouth with the napkin and get up from the table.

"Girl, you didn't even eat properly!"

"I'm nervous, Grandma, I can't. But the coffee was delicious," I comment as I rush to my room to brush my teeth.

When I return to the living room, Grandma is clearing the table.

"I'm leaving, Grandma. Wish me luck!" I say, and she puts the cup she was holding on the table, approaches, and hugs me.

"You don't need luck, my love. Everything's already worked out. Just trust yourself," she says, stepping back. "Go safely, and may God guide your path, protecting you."

"Amen and thank you, Grandma," I say, kissing her cheek and smiling, grabbing my bag from the chair. I grab the car keys from the sideboard and open the door.

"Thanks for the coffee, Grandma! It was really delicious. And thank you for trying to make me feel calm."

"Stop flattering me and go already, girl! Otherwise, I'll melt like butter."

"It's not flattery, Granny, you've always been by my side in tough times. Your strength motivates me every day and encourages me," Grandma hugs me affectionately.

"My princess, I'll always believe in you. Now go and shine!" She says, and I step back smiling, blow her a kiss, and leave.

The journey to Vienna is long, but it would be worth it if it meant the opportunity to work at the Lockwood Art Museum. The idea of being able to care for valuable works of art is a dream I've had since childhood. I drive along the winding roads that lead to the city, my heart beating faster with every kilometer I leave behind.

My phone rings, and I answer it through the car's panel.

"Heyyyy, friend! Excited about your interview?" I smile upon hearing Leila's voice.

"Hi, Lê. Yes, and nervous too."

"It's going to be fine, I spoke very highly of you to Mr. Dangelo and especially to the charming gentleman."

"Charming gentleman?" I ask, smiling, while Leila sighs on the other end of the line.

"Yes, but that man doesn't even look at a mere mortal like me! I wish he would look, notice me, and touch me with those hands..."

"Girl, what's gotten into you!" I say, smiling, while she laughs on the other end.

"We'll talk later, I need to get back to work."

"Okay, and thanks again."

"You're welcome, friend. Talk to you later." She says and hangs up.

So, I continue my journey, taking deep breaths, trying to put all the nervousness aside.

∞••••♥••••∞

The journey to the museum was marked by a mix of excitement and nervousness. But as I walked the streets of Vienna toward the imposing building of the Lockwood Art Museum, the memory of my grandmother's kind words brought a sense of calm. I was ready to face the interview, wearing not only a dress that made me feel elegant but also a newfound confidence that I had discovered within myself. It was the beginning of a journey that would take me to Vienna, to the museum I had always dreamed of working in, and perhaps to a future I had always desired.

As I pull into the parking lot in front of the majestic building, I feel my hands trembling and my heart racing with anticipation. I grab my bag and coat, step out of the car, and the cold autumn wind seems to penetrate my skin, echoing the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me. This was the long-awaited moment, but it also stirred up all my fears.

I walk towards the main entrance, but something inside me screams not to go in the way I am. An uncontrollable impulse makes me turn right and head for the elevator. I step in and press the button for the rooftop of the building. The doors close, and the elevator ascends. As the doors open, I rush down the corridor and open the door, stepping out. I put my hands on my knees and then straighten up, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. I walk to the parapet, observing the entire city from here. I sigh and close my eyes, letting the wind try to calm me.

"Are you okay?" I open my eyes, looking to the side, and a surprising sight awaits me.

A tall man with reddish-brown hair stands against a wall, wearing an elegant three-piece black suit that fits him perfectly. You can even notice his muscles through the fabric. He is focused on something he holds in his hands. His gaze lifts to meet mine, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet. He is stunning, standing at around 6 feet 3 inches tall, with very fair skin and eyes of different colors, one green and the other a deep blue.

It was as if time stood still, and amidst my anxiety, I found a strange calmness just by looking into those eyes. It seems like he senses my agitation, maybe even recognizes it in himself.

"I'm sorry, I... shouldn't be here," I say, adjusting my bag and turning to walk back the way I came.

"Are you nervous too?" He says, with a friendly and gentle voice. It's as if he can read my thoughts.

"Yes, very," I reply, turning to face him, feeling a nervous smile forming on my lips. "I'm here for an interview." He nods understandingly.

"Interviews can be scary. But don't worry, you'll nail it."

His words of encouragement hit me like a ray of hope. I don't know who he is, but his presence conveys a sense of calmness to me. He extends his hand, revealing a small, smooth stone he's holding.

"This is a grounding stone," he says, taking my hand and gently placing the stone in it. "Whenever you feel nervous, just hold on to this and remember that you are strong enough to overcome any challenge."

I look at the stone, feeling deeply grateful for this kind and unexpected gesture.

"Thank you," I murmur, touched by his generosity.

"Now go in there and show everyone how amazing you are," he says, releasing my hand and looking at his watch. "It's almost time, and the interviewer doesn't like delays." He smiles, a smile that seems to convey a promise of confidence and support.

With the grounding stone in my hand, I feel a new wave of determination. It's as if fate placed that man in my path to remind me that I'm not alone. I nod in affirmation, thanking him again, and turn, heading towards the door I used to come to the rooftop, with my courage renewed.

∞••••♥••••∞

The interview is challenging, but I remember the words of the man from the rooftop and find strength to answer each question with confidence. With each response, my voice resonates with determination, conveying the confidence I had found within myself. Every question is an opportunity to showcase my knowledge and skills, and I embrace the challenge fervently. The encouraging words of the kind man echo in my mind, infusing me with renewed courage with each passing moment.

The interviewer... whose name I'm so nervous I can't recall, asks me about my experience with restoration, and I talk about my internship at the Schmidt Gallery last year. I notice him nodding as I discuss my college thesis on Impressionism.

"I liked your analysis of the artwork. Could you tell me more about this period of the painter?" He asks, pointing to the painting in the room, and I smile because this is one of my favorite painters.

I sit up straight in my chair and begin to talk about him, and all the while, the interviewer smiles at my words.

I mention my knowledge of Renaissance art history, acquired in an extra course at the Sorbonne in Italy, and my proficiency in handling tight deadlines in my previous job seemed to please him. By the looks of it, I think I'm doing very well in my responses.

At the end of the interview, the interviewer rewarded me with a genuine smile, acknowledging the effort I had put in. His final words were like a melody of hope, echoing in my ears. He promised that I would soon receive news about the outcome of the selection process.

My heart swelled with gratitude and optimism. I knew I had done my best, and now it was just a matter of time to find out the result. I leave the interview room with my head held high, knowing that regardless of the outcome, I had left a positive impression. I feel a mixture of relief and hope as I remember the interviewer's smile. Once in the car, I call Grandma and excitedly tell her about the interview. Now all that's left is to anxiously await the response about the dream job.

Some time later...

Days went by and finally, the long-awaited email arrived.

Flashback on.

It's already the sixth time I've read the email in shock, laughing and crying. I start jumping around like crazy and run down the stairs shouting, "I passed!"

Grandma appears, looking at me with wide eyes. I stop in front of her, smiling.

"I did it, Grandma. I passed the interview."

I hug her and start jumping and spinning around in the living room with her. Grandma bursts into laughter, and we step back, smiling. She gives me an emotional kiss.

"I knew it would work out, my beautiful! I always knew you would make it, princess. You're dedicated and hardworking. If they hadn't given you the job, I would have gone there and knocked some sense into that man to see if he would wake up to life."

"My goodness, Grandma," I smile.

"I only deal with the truth," she says and smiles. "Now, let's do something nice to celebrate this new chapter in your life." She takes my hand and drags me to the kitchen.

Flashback off.

I landed the job as an art curator at the Lockwood Art Museum. The joy that filled my heart at that moment was indescribable, and the first thing I did was hold the support stone in my hands. Of course, I left the room in a state of ecstasy, shouting like a maniac, calling my grandmother and telling her I had passed the interview. That's how the kind man became a ray of light on my darkest day. He taught me that kind words and simple gestures can make all the difference and that even in moments of uncertainty, there's always someone willing to support us.

Today, as I lovingly contemplate the precious works of art that I now have the privilege to care for in the museum, I remember our chance encounter on the terrace. The support stone rests on my desk, serving as a constant reminder that small things can have a huge impact on our lives. Even if I never discover the man's last name behind the kind words and support stone, he will always have a special place in my heart, like a true guardian angel in my time of need.

I am snapped out of my thoughts when Leila appears at the door of my office in a state of distress.

"Friend, get ready, one of the candidates for chief is arriving."

"Hi?"

"Take off those gloves, fix your hair better..." she sticks her head out of the room. "Oh my God! Here comes the irresistible man," she says, closing the door and standing next to me, adjusting her blazer and looking at the door. "Come on, Ava, get yourself together, woman," she finishes speaking just as there's a knock on the door, which opens.

I lose my breath... it's him! But...

He looks at me and smiles, and I am paralyzed, unable to believe what I'm seeing.

"How are things going?" He says and hugs me, catching me off guard. He steps back.

"I told you'd make it! Now we can officially introduce ourselves. My name is Ravi Lockwood." He extends his hand to me, and I keep looking at him, his eyes sparkle, and he really seems happy for me. I still keep looking at him with my mouth slightly open, not believing my eyes, when I'm awakened from the trance by a push on my shoulder.

I look to the side, and Leila stares at me with wide eyes, quickly regaining her composure and smiling at the man in front of us. The woman behind him leaves the room, closing the door.

"Oh, forgive me," I say, quickly taking off my glove, wiping my hand, and shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir. As you already know, my name is Ava Radcliffe." I smile and let go of his hand.

"No need for that sir stuff, we share something..."

"What do you mean, share something?" I hear Leila say, and we both look at her.

Her smile is strange, and her face is red. I look at Mr. Lockwood, who seems to be staring at her as if there's a huge question mark in front of him. He crosses his arms, and Leila's attention returns to him. She forces a smile.

"Excuse me, I'll go back to my work." She says, opening the door and leaving without looking back.

"What's gotten into her?" He says, pointing behind him.

"I really don't know!" I respond, and he approaches and begins to admire the painting on my desk.

"This painting is really beautiful!"

"Yes, besides that, you can feel the emotion the painter put into portraying Vienna."

"Indeed, you can feel it," he says, looking at me with a smile. Then, his gaze shifts to my desk, where the stone is. He walks over to it, picks it up in his hand. "I'm glad you're here!"

"I didn't have the chance to thank you that day," I say, approaching him.

"I found this stone when I was still a kid. I went with my father to Africa and found out I was going to be his successor, which scared me. I screamed that I didn't want to and that I was afraid of letting him down. So, I ran away and fled far from there. When I entered the forest behind the house, I ended up falling into a small hole...

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, putting my hand over my mouth.

"Then, one of the employees found me, but before leaving there, I saw this stone. I thought I had made one of the biggest discoveries of my life and was excited to go back and show it to my father. That's when Mr. Joel told me that this stone was a support stone, that even though it had no value, it was my support when I was nervous and distressed inside that hole."

"Why did you give me something like this?" I ask, not understanding.

"He told me that one day I might be able to help someone, that we shouldn't see responsibilities only as something bad or imposed, but rather as a support stone or help for someone," I look at the stone in his hand. "So, here is where it should be now, and I know that if one day it needs to go to someone else, you will make sure it fulfills its role." He puts the stone back in place.

I think about what he said. I must fulfill my responsibilities with love and dedication because it may help someone in the future.