The luxury sedan, worth millions, glided through the streets of Barion City towards the Aeterna Square.
It was a holiday, and the Aeterna Square swarmed with tourists, a relentless sea of bodies that tightened the line of Elliot's jaw with visible irritation.
"Margaret, this was a mistake. We should come back after the holiday," he said, raising his voice over the din.
When she asked how long that would be, he held up seven fingers, his frown deepening.
"That's too long," she stated simply, and before he could stop her, she vanished into the crowd.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Elliot followed.
He found her trailing a tour guide, her eyes alight with fascination, absorbing every word.
To Elliot, who had heard these historical facts since childhood, it was pure tedium.
His patience frayed by the minute. He couldn't comprehend why this woman, who had traveled so far from her village, would waste her time on boring sights instead of seizing the luxurious life he offered.
Later, she waited in a long line to buy a souvenir—a cheap plastic keychain stamped with a blurry skyline.
A wave of disdain washed over him. It was so common. Yet, seeing the genuine pleasure in her gaze, he swallowed the cutting remark on his tongue.
By evening, Elliot took her to an upscale Michelin-starred restaurant. The plate placed before her held black truffle caviar, priced at hundreds of dollars per gram.
Margaret took a small bite. Her expression remained neutral.
"Is something wrong, Margaret? Not to your taste?" he asked.
"It's a bit fishy," she said quietly.
Elliot sampled his own portion, his brow furrowing slightly. "You're right. It isn't as fresh as it should be tonight."
His tone, however, carried a hint of mockery, as if her palate simply couldn't appreciate the finer things.
A sharp pang constricted Margaret's heart. Memories, vivid and unbidden, flooded back.
Back in the village, Elliot had devoured her simple potato and leek soup, scraping the bowl clean of every last crouton.
When she'd found him, bitten by a venomous snake, she had carried his dead weight down the treacherous path on her own small frame.
Money was scarce; saving Elliot meant missing her trip to town for flour, leaving only potatoes and wild onions in her pantry.
After days of hunger, his hands shook as he held a baked potato she offered him. He ate it all, his eyes bright.
"This is amazing. Could I have another?" Elliot had said, gripping her hand.
Margaret gave him her portion, watching him eat with a tender ache in her chest. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"Slow down. Tomorrow, I'll trade some herbs for eggs in town. I'll make you scrambled eggs," she'd said softly.
The next morning, she returned with the eggs to find him out of bed, carefully supporting her grandfather Vincent Hart's head as the old man coughed. At the sight of her, Elliot's ears turned pink, and he set the emesis basin aside.
"D-Don't get the wrong idea. He was choking. I just helped," he stammered.
"You shouldn't have. That's my job. Your hands... they're too fine for this," Margaret rushed to say, flustered.
Elliot's face had clouded with something like offense. "Why not? You're so slight. I'm strong. I can't just eat your food and do nothing."
Later, he asked about her family—a mother gone too soon, a father lost to gambling, a grandfather weakened by a stroke. The weight of the household rested entirely on Margaret's young shoulders, sustained by the herbs she foraged and sold.
Elliot fell into a long silence. Out of habit, he reached for a cigarette in his pocket, only to realize that it had been lost after he ended up in the desolate mountains.
That night, looking into her eyes, he promised earnestly, "Don't worry. I'll take care of your business. Your grandfather is like my own. When my family comes to pick me up, I'll take you all back to Barion City and get your grandfather treated."
Margaret was taken aback for a moment. She said his eyes were as beautiful as the stars in the sky, and stars were the most beautiful things.
Elliot was puzzled, thinking, 'What is so beautiful about stars?'
In the mountains, the air was fresh, and the sky was dotted with stars. Unlike in the city, where stars were barely visible.
Margaret said with a beaming smile and twinkling eyes, "I've never seen anything better. They're the most beautiful things I can see. Stars are so beautiful, shining brightly."
Her words, so simple and sincere, had caught in his throat. He made a promise then. "I'll show you the most beautiful sights in the world one day."
Now, Elliot seemed like a stranger. Or perhaps she had never really known him.
The jarring ring of his phone shattered the moment. Elliot excused himself and stepped into the hallway.
"Elliot? I'm told you're dining with that little village mouse. Is she still here?"
Aksara