Page 7 of Sworn to My Heart
I decide to visit the café beneath my apartment, eager to enjoy the warm spring weather after a harsh winter. At the café, I order an egg sandwich and a large chocolate pastry, a familiar indulgence since I rarely cook in my own apartment.
When my order arrives, I devour the sandwich with relish, each bite tasting better than the last, a clear sign that hunger was part of the lingering hangover.
When only crumbs remain on the plate, I pull out my phoneand search the internet for the name “Cinderella.” Looking for information about the nickname Luca gave me last night.
Numerous links to movies pop up immediately, along with images from an animated film below the search bar. I keep reading and chuckle to myself when I realize it’s a fairy tale that many movies were based on.
I also notice links to other fairy tales like Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Rapunzel, and a long list of films I’m unfamiliar with.
I finish the last bite of the chocolate pastry, already planning to watch those movies on my laptop once I get back to the apartment.
Leaving the café, I find the weather still warm with a pleasant breeze, so I decide to stroll around the area. A bit of shopping might lift my spirits and distract me from last night’s events. The hangover has subsided somewhat after eating and showering, but thoughts of Luca linger—his scent, his lips, my unguarded reactions, and the altercation with the drunk. I cringe at the memory of how drunk I was; I really hope I won’t run into him again. I try to remind myself of his arrogance and rudeness, hoping it would dampen my thoughts of him. Who am I kidding? Deep down, I secretly wish I could see him again, a lot.
Sighing, I glance at the shop windows around me. It seems to be sale season with the changing weather; every store displays big sale signs. Passing a familiar clothing store where I found nothing special before, I move on to browse through cosmetic and fashion outlets, finding myself less excited about the offerings than I anticipated. That’s when I notice a small corner store I’ve never seen before.
The shop has an old wooden brown door at the entrance, with an oval glass window at the top allowing a glimpse inside.
I stand on my tiptoes—the small heel I wore today proving unhelpful, especially at this window’s height—and try to peerinside.
I notice many decorated vases, wood carvings, and unique jewelry.
“It’s an antique shop,” I whisper to myself, smiling. Maybe I could sell my sea treasures here!
Pushing open the door eagerly, the bells above it jingle softly, setting my heart racing. I immediately immerse myself in exploring the shop; antiques have always held a special place in my heart. My underwater treasure hunts used to fill me with similar excitement at each discovery. Glancing toward the counter, I find it unattended.
Running my hand along the wooden display cabinets as I walk past, I show interest in every item. My attention halts when I spot a delicate, thin gold necklace featuring a small, pointed white shell pendant and another round gold pendant with a familiar engraving. I gently brush the dust off the round pendant, studying its engraving with keen interest. It looks strikingly familiar. No, it can’t be.
The engraving depicts a circle with a triangle extending beyond its boundaries at each corner, with small wave-shaped carvings filling the space created by their intersections. Lost in thought, trying to figure out if it’s the same symbol I know, a voice suddenly breaks my concentration from behind.
“You have good taste; it’s very special.” I jump in surprise and see a very old woman coming out from behind the counter and approaching me, using a walking stick.
“Do you recognize this symbol?” the woman asks me in a calm tone, and it seems to make her sink into deep thoughts. I wonder what happy memories she’s drifting into because her smile widens.
I smile at her politely. “Yes, it’s very special, hard to ignore. I think I know this symbol, but I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.
She looks at me, deepening her gaze into my eyes. “I’ve never seen such a unique turquoise hue; your eyes looks like a jewel. They remind me of the eyes of the woman who once saved my life,” she says, closing her eyes as if savoring the memories.
“I would never forget Lora,” she murmurs to the air, and my body stiffens.
Did she just say Lora? Maybe I didn’t hear well. “Lora?” I ask, struggling to hide my curiosity. The symbol, Lora, my eyes—it’s all clear to me now. “Do you know my mother?” I ask in surprise.
The woman immediately opens her eyes wide and chuckles. “Your eyes are like two drops of water, just like hers, but I think it’s very unlikely that she is your mother. She was a very special woman,” she answers and continues to look at the symbol.
She only strengthens my thoughts that it’s my mother.
“This symbol is on the gold crown around her forehead. It signifies strength and hope,” I announce, holding the pendant. The woman looks at me in surprise, strokes my cheek, and glances at my legs.
“So you’re special too?” she asks, and I hear her choking back tears.
I think she’s trying to get me to say the word so that she doesn’t have to say it first.
“If you mean the tail, then yes,” I say immediately, hoping in my heart that I am not making a mistake and that she indeed understands what I’m talking about.
Tears stream down her face, and she pulls me into a motherly hug. I recoil slightly, but after a few seconds, I fold into her warm embrace. She releases me, her eyes red from crying.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I lower my gaze to the floor.
“My dear, these are tears I wish for everyone dear to me. Theyare tears of excitement. I never thought I would ever see her again and thank her. But fate brought you to my shop’s door. It probably means there’s something I need to do for you,” she wipes her tears and kisses my cheek.
