Chapter 1

#Chapter 1

Evelyn

"What? You went without me? Me! I'm your best friend Eve." Ivan protests as he inclines over the pink polka-dot tablecloth stretched over the small table.

"That you are, Ivan. The one and only. But in my defense, you were busy running an important errand for your mother, when I was coming to pick you up. I called to ask you. Tell me you remember that?" Ivan hesitantly nods in agreement, clearly annoyed with the fact that he can't blame me.

"I couldn't bring myself to interrupt you." His eyes soften momentarily but then squeeze to slits as he crosses his arms over his chest and slumps back into the chair. An image of a young kid throwing a tantrum flashes through my mind.

"Mom would have understood. It was a dinosaur exhibition for fuck's sake. She knows I love dinosaurs. I've literally been smitten with them since I was eight. Tyrannosaurus rex is my favorite, and now I might have missed his skeleton." The vehemence of his exasperation reflects when he snaffles the Tiramisu in front of me in one swift move.

My first instinct is to reprimand him for stealing my dessert. Then I remember how upset he was when I went to the exhibit without him, and let it slide, even though every muscle in my stomach turns and twists with the desire to put the sweet into my mouth.

"First, the museum was small and packed. Second, its collection wasn't even that big. There were only a few specimens on display—more casts than bones. Thirdly, the ones we wanted to see weren't even here." I lay down all my dislikes, hoping he'll forgive me for not taking him.

"Small or big, you visit the dinosaur museum with me. It's our thing." If there is one thing that you should know about Ivan, he's dramatic. Like really dramatic. And sensitive too. A child trapped in an adult body.

"I know Ivan." I sigh and lean over the table to continue. "Forgive me this once. Please."

With crystal blue eyes watching me he eats the last bite of the dessert I'd originally ordered for myself. "Get me more dessert, and I will think about it." Meaning, he will forgive me.

Looking around I search for a waiter who approaches our table when I gesture at him. With a smile, I ask for another Tiramisu, as well as the bill.

"Trust me the exhibit wasn't anything special. I didn't enjoy it much."

Ivan smirks, contently. "Of course. How could you when my ass wasn't there?" If arrogance had a scale, Ivan was ten on it.

"To be fair I didn't miss your ass that much." Slight anger takes over his face.

"You better be joking Eve." I shake my head in amusement and wave him off.

"How's work going? Got any new orders so far?" The mere mention of the topic evaporates my good energy, and my sunny mood turns gloomy and overcast.

"None. This week is going blank like a sheet. And the one before this too. At this rate, my company will drown in the sea and never be found ever again." The despair radiates off me like sparks from a firework—burning me in the process. Just hearing the words back makes me feel how quickly I'm losing, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Bluebird Design is my wedding card print company. I started it from scratch two years ago, after a decade of procrastinating and overthinking. The idea of starting something from the ground, and building it until the name hung on the top scared me more than jumping off a fifteen-foot cliff and barreling into the water—trust me, that was terrifying.

Since I was a teenager I'd been putting together pictures, designs, and ideas, and saving pins on Pinterest of what I imagined my company would be like. From exploring color palette heterogeneity to learning a million different flower, leaf, and wreath designs, I'd been eagerly waiting for the day to put it all together and bring it into reality. But no one told me how hard it would be. How some days I'd be iffy and filled with indecision.

From the beginning, I gave in every bead of sweat that I could. There were times when I wanted to chuck my dream into a black hole because of one fall, and times when I was so excited to let it all come to life and dance in happiness. I'm so glad that I pulled through all of the hardship and never gave up.

Along the way, I learned much more than I had working as a finance analyst–creating and writing reports all day. During my academic years, I was certain that pursuing a degree in economics was what I wanted. Math was like a second language to me throughout my school years and aced tests just grew me closer to my calling—following a career in finance.

But turns out, sometimes the things you want so badly, end up being mundane.

"Don't think of your company as the Titanic. It isn't sinking anytime soon. Trust me, it'll work out Eve. It always does." Ivan has been that friend who always wrapped me in a blanket whenever my shortcomings left me feeling cold and numb. From serving me cold milk with Oreos on my bad days to squealing and jumping with me on reaching fifty customers. His presence has walked alongside mine through all sorts of seasons no matter the severity.

"I hope so. I'm feeling upset over the lack of sales. I've employees to pay salaries to, you know." My hands cover my face as I feel the leaden weight of my responsibilities settling on my shoulders.

"I know Evelyn. I'm literally your finance manager." Since I'm a finance analyst I thought it'd be easier for me to balance both work and finance, but I was proven wrong. Within a week I had so much on my hands that I had to hire someone else to review the figures and budget. Ivan and I met at university and spent years together, so not a single doubt crossed my mind when I pitched him for the seat.

"Don't get into the stats. I can literally read the numbers off your face." Ivan chuckles with humor but I can't get a smile to bloom on my lips.

"My gorgeous face isn't an excel sheet from any angle. You're getting insane Eve. Maybe we should go out for drinks." While I look for solutions within the problems, Ivan explores outside the box.

"Drinks won't solve a damn thing, Ivan." Sighing like I've deflated his favorite balloon he takes my hand over the table and squeezes it reassuringly.

"You know it's not your fault. It's an off-wedding season so every wedding-related industry is suffering. I guess people are busy planning them these months." A smile cracks my stoic face. "And when they're done planning, their footsteps will be on our door and we'll welcome them." Another warm hand squeeze. "Till then let's have a good time, and later we'll brainstorm ideas for expanding your company." I nod through the happiness that has stealthily swapped the overwhelming sadness in my chest.

"Our company Ivan."

My best friend courses his fingers through the bushy mess of his shiny wheat-like hair that makes everyone bleat in envy. His shampoo and hair routine is a secret concealed by layers of padlocks. Even I don't know it.

"Yes. Now tell me, do you understand?"

As much as I want to roll in worry and stress, I know there isn't much that I can do.

"Yes, I understand." This time I squeeze his hand and he graces me with a twinkling smile that steadies me on my feet.