Caleb is walking through the private rooms' hallway of a restaurant. People gawk and he knew it. He's a Montreal after all. Despite the casual look, he picked his clothes with more attention to details and bide his time in front of the mirror this morning.
The epitome of perfection is not a stretch for a description. No girl can say no to him, eventhough nobody ever did before. His unknown fiancée would want to marry him the soonest.
Usually, the boss could be late for meetings and nobody could do him wrong for it. But he came an hour earlier, reviewing everything he knew about Ari, the fiancée: nothing, except for the name. The only assurance is he would never be set up with someone of lower status.
'Impress her. This engagement is very important.' His father almost never uses 'important' outside the conferenceroom, yet even added 'very' to it.
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'I won't fail you, Sir,' Caleb promised.
Finally, he reached the last door, took a deep breath and painted a smile that could melt the coldest soul except his, of course, and turned the knob open.
Mxture of sweet, something fried and spices danced to his nose. The room had a big window, overlooking the skyscrapers and the ocean, all in one frame. A chandelier competed against other lights in the room and the sunshine of noon. From the white curtains, carpet to furniture, the theme is victorian.
But in the middle of the room, sat a monster, devouring plates of food and stacking the empty ones after another. His forehead knotted for a scrutizing squint, then eyes bulged wide open they could pop out.
Maria Bahaghari, his classmate, was eating like a beggar on her last meal. Happy moans escaped her throat, along with the sound of her teeth grinding pieces of meat, cake and rice all at once.
"God no..." he gasped in horror, understood what her presence meant.
She paused grinding a bone in her hands and looked up, face covered with different colors of sauce.
"Hi Mon-Mon," she greeted in the nickname he hated. She waved the fried chicken or what's left of. "Are ya' hungry?"