Page 77 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
The woman's eyes brightened with interest. "We're holding a showcase next week for local artisans. Would you bring one of your quilts?"
Aria eagerly agreed, heart swelling with excitement. Despite Lule's strict warnings not to overexert herself, Aria joyfully threw herself into sewing. A day before Crispin's birthday, the quilt began to come together beautifully in hues of red, ochre, and shimmering gold. Aria hummed quietly as she stitched, absorbed in her task and genuinely happy.
That afternoon, a sensation caught her attention-soft, fluttering movements low in her abdomen. She paused, holding her breath, waiting. The feeling came again, unmistakable this time. It had to be her baby moving, tiny kicks like delicate gas bubbles. The doctor had mentioned it would likely happen after the sixteenth week. She wished Crispin was here to share this moment with her.
It's strange...I breathe, I move, I exist, but I'm not truly alive without you here. Life is grey without you.
Aria placed a gentle hand over her belly, feeling profoundly connected and determined. "Next week," she whispered softly to herself and the tiny life inside her, her voice thick with promise. "I'll tell him next week."
Chapter 41
Aria
The sun on the day of Crispin's birthday dawned, and Aria was awake to greet it. The past week had taken its toll, and she was barely eating, despite knowing it was harmful to the baby. The relentless nausea tormented her day and night, leaving her uncertain whether it was the pregnancy or the stress causing it. Still, she managed to send a message wishing Crispin a happy birthday, controlling the strong urge to call just to hear his voice. She waited anxiously as the phone rang and rang without an answer. Much later, a message finally arrived.
Thank you, Aria. I love you. I'll message later.
She stared at the words, trying to gauge if his tone had indeed changed or if her anxiety was playing tricks on her.
One day turned into two, then into a third, each accompanied by brief messages from Crispin.
Sorry, Aria. Caught up with work. I'll talk soon.
Things are hectic here. I'll text you once things ease off.
Despite her growing unease, Aria attended the showcase, proudly displaying the quilt she'd completed. As she arranged her quilt on the display table, a cheerful voice caught her attention.
"This is absolutely beautiful!" Aria turned to see a young woman with curly auburn hair and warm brown eyes admiring her quilt. "I'm Catherine, by the way. I run a website specializing in rustic handmade goods. Your craftsmanship is remarkable."
Aria smiled shyly, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. "Thank you. It's a tradition in my family. My grandmother used to make story quilts."
"Story quilts? That sounds fascinating," Catherine replied eagerly. "Could you tell me more?"
Aria nodded, encouraged by Catherine's genuine interest. "Each quilt tells a story-moments from people's lives, memories they want to cherish. Weddings, births, anniversaries, even losses. Every patch holds a special meaning."
Catherine's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "That's lovely! That's exactly the kind of work my customers adore. Would you be interested in creating a dedicated page for your quilts on my website? You'd receive a percentage from every sale. We can negotiate that."
Surprised and delighted, Aria hesitated. "I'd love to, but...I have no idea what I should charge."
Catherine laughed lightly, reassuringly. "Let's talk numbers, shall we? For a quilt of this size and intricacy, I'd suggest starting around five hundred pounds."
Aria's eyes widened in astonishment. "Five hundred pounds? Really?"
"Absolutely," Catherine confirmed firmly. "Your skill and the sentimental value alone justify it. Trust me, collectors and gift buyers will recognise its worth."
Aria felt a surge of pride and excitement. "This sounds incredible. Thank you, Catherine."
Catherine offered her hand warmly. "It's my pleasure. Let's get you set up this week. I'm confident your quilts will be in high demand. Wait, let me give you my card, and can you write your email and phone number down so I don't lose it."
Returning home that evening, Aria excitedly shared the news with Lule, whose eyes lit up with delight. Yet, as quickly as the joy appeared, a questioning look shadowed Lule's face.
"Any word from Crispin?" she asked.
Aria's heart sank, and her mood visibly dipped as she shook her head. Lule's mouth tightened slightly in concern. "He's still messaging," Aria quickly added, attempting to reassure both herself and Lule. But Lule's expression remained sceptical. Eventually, her brow cleared, and she smiled warmly.
"Come on," Lule encouraged softly, putting an arm around her slender shoulders. "Rahul's mom made vegetable stew. You'll love her vegetable cutlets."
A week after Crispin's birthday, there had still been no news, and Aria had stopped eating altogether. His messages had petered out. At her wits' end, Lule suggested they go for a walk at Farmoor Reservoir to clear their heads. The reservoir stretched serenely, its surface gently rippling with the soft breeze. Birds glided gracefully across the water, their tranquil presence and occasional calls creating a sense of peace. The setting sun painted the sky in vivid hues-a spectacular starburst of pinks, scarlets, and yellows that reflected beautifully off the calm water, momentarily soothing Aria's troubled thoughts.
