Don't be sad, don't be hurt, don't be afraid. Let's be happy. Everything will be alright. You'll be okay. Those are the words a broken heart needs, to mend itself... The words a broken person needs to hear. On repeat, like a tape recorder stuck on loop. Repeated until it's engraved in their minds. Until the lines of reality and fiction blurs and all that is left are those words.

They work wonders, you know.

If not by making them materialize into the real world as truth, then by using them to console themselves and fill the tiny wounds, mustering up the courage to face the day ahead.

Those were the words I yearned to say to Bella. It was funny how things changed. I had the same thought a million times before, yet each time it didn't leave me feeling less astonished. A foe to a friend. Unbeknownst to us, both of us were so entangled into each other's life that it was bewildering to think that it hadn't been even been two weeks since we were introduced to each other. Before she had been hell bent on ruining mine, and now I was equally determined to straighten hers out.

Maybe the foreign air was to blame.

I swept my eyes over the bustling life around me, walking, without a rash, with a sulking Brandon beside me.

The street was filled with the spring air. The previous windy weather replaced by a pleasant breeze. It looked like a temporary vegetable and fruit market, and I eyed the fresh variety on our way.

An old pair of couple went by us, the wife, leading the way, and her husband, walking behind her, carrying the shopping bags, and sulking. The stark similarity between our situation was so eerie that when I met the said woman's eyes, we did a double take, eyeing each other's respective partners.

For a second our eyes burned with amusement, and then she cracked open a toothy grin, winking at me. Unable to control myself, I laughed out loud, linking my arm in Brandon's arms.

Brandon perked up, slowing down to a stroll. "You're not angry anymore?"

This was all the comic relief I needed, and I shook my head. "No, I'm not."

"This is not a trap, is it?"

"It's not! Why do you think girls always ask trick questions? Do we?"

"Uh... " Brandon stalled, quite taken aback. He scratched his head. "If I say no, are you going to assume we think you are not capable of that?"

"Of course!" I replied without batting an eye.

"And if I say yes, are you going to say that you don't?"

"Yeah."

Brandon coughed. "I see..."

"What do you see?"

"I see the hotel!" he shouted, removing my arm from his arms, and taking my hand, steering me towards the gigantic building as the market ended.

The mass of media that had littered the streets like it was a dumpster was relatively empty. I saw a few reporters enjoying a cup of coffee from the around the corner café and a few loitering on the streets, snooping around for something useful.

Brandon and I darted across the busy street, avoiding any eyes or curious glances. We could have taken a taxi, but the walk had been short and I wanted the space to think and collect my thoughts. Inside the hotel, we avoided returning to our room. As long as we were on our feet, moving and doing something, no matter  how trivial, it helped in keeping focus. Because right now, our goal was getting in touch with Bella and Giulia and ensuring their safety.

But where were they?

"I checked the flight logs. There's no flight leaving for France till tomorrow," Brandon said, "so it's safe to assume they are in Singapore."

I put down my phone as I received the switched off tone again on Bella's number. "Alard doesn't own a private jet, does he?" I joked, but Brandon felt silent.

"That could be the reason he reached here so fast... "

"Haha." I released the words but they were emotionless.

If they took a private jet, they could be anywhere in the world and we wouldn't know!

"I don't think they'll leave yet." Brandon met my eyes, reading my thoughts.

"Why?"

"Going back to France means more paparazzi. And Bella won't be meekly following his requests anyways."

After a thought, I nodded. "You're right."

Brandon bowed in recognition.

"And I think we can find a way to them."

The airport nearest to our hotel had a private jet lane reserved for VIP and other important people (yay, Google). If Alard was a true businessman then he would be staying at a luxurious yet a travel time minimizing hotel. To deduce that it would be one of the three big hotels near the airport wouldn't be a wild guess.

The taxi fare finally put to use, we took the taxi to our first destination. We entered the hotel, faking a stronger front and gathering all the snobbish foreigner vibe to scare off anyone from approaching us.

"We had an important appointment with Mr. Rousel," I spoke to the receptionist with an air of confidence, "Can you tell me the room number?"

She smiled with well practiced pleasantness. "An appointment?"

"Yes."

"Just a moment, Miss."

I tapped my foot as she checked the records. Was it this easy?

Her smile faltered. "We don't have anyone under that name, ma'am."

Oh, snap. What to say now? I grinned, formulating a kick ass reply (I wish), when Brandon nudged my shoulder. "There's a call for you." He handed me his phone, and I took it, pressing it to my ear.

"Just a moment." I smiled at the receptionist, walking away from the table and outside under the claims of a better signal. Brandon followed me.

As soon as we were out, I put the phone down and handed it back to Brandon. "Good work."

"But no luck," he replied with a sigh, taking the phone, and shaking his head, keeping it back in his pocket. Descending the stairs, we looked at the building in front of us.

Next stop, Royal Hotel.

The moment we entered the hotel, I knew there was something different about it. Maybe it was the swarm of men and women lobbying around in the reception area, or the hushed whispers of the people around us. It looked like a storm had passed this building and the reporters had gotten the whiff of it, and were now on standby, ready to deploy and attack.

I let my hair loose, letting it cover most of the part of my face. It was better if no one recognized me as a participant in the baking competition.

Brandon took my hand. "Where to?"

"Washroom. I think this is it."

We followed the sign board to the nearest restroom, stopping only when we were out of everyone's sight. We had to re-strategize, fast.

"How do we know where is Bella?" Brandon asked.

"We'll have to find a way in," I replied, "they're definitely here."

"Just a second," he whispered, focusing on a man standing at the end of the hallway. "Doesn't he look familiar?"

I focused too. "He does. Someone we know?"

"Uh-huh. Someone Alard knows." Brandon grinned. "That's one of his bodyguards."

Wasn't luck showering its goodies on us today?

"I have an idea."

We tiptoed to the far end of the hallway, deep inside the hotel, avoiding any attention. Both of us straightened when we reached closer to the man, now looking far more intimidating than before. He seemed to be keeping watch. Perhaps on the reporters. His eyes scanned us as we approached closer, vigilant ad attentive.

"Do you speak English?" I asked.

Caught off guard, he gave a hesitant nod.

"Great! So, Mr. Alard called me here. Do you know where I can meet him?"

"Excuse me?" He was flustered alright. But he masked his hesitance behind a not-so-perfect cold expression.

Taking a wild guess, I continued, "Is he not in the penthouse anymore?"

"Penthouse? No, he moved to the basement this morning."

"Oh, did he?" I smiled. The man frowned, realizing he had misspoken but not being able to pinpoint what. "Take me to him."

He shifted the weight of his body to his other leg. "I can't do that. You can talk to his secretary."

Brandon cleared his throat, taking a step forward. The man tensed, ready for a fight. But surprisingly, Brandon didn't step back, and instead brushed off the man's shoulder in a tantalizing way. "Do you know what's happening outside?" he whispered.

The man didn't answer.

"You know Mr. Alard's daughter? Isabela?" Brandon practically cooed in his ear.

This time he swallowed. "Yes, I do."

"So, you might know that, she, you know--" Brandon winked, titling his head in the direction of the herds of reporters outside.

"That is just a rumor--"

"Oh, shut it," Brandon said.

My eyebrows met my hairline at his commanding tone. I bit my lip, worried that he might have taken it too far.

Brandon pointed to me. "Do you know her?"

I cleared my throat and straightened up. Why was he pointing to me now? I swear if he ended us up beaten to a pulp at the back of a dumpster, I was going to kill him.

"No," the man's reply was short and clipped.

"Well, you better make yourself familiar to her then." Brandon warned. "She's your boss's daughter-in-law. And if you don't take her to Alard right now, get ready to be fired."

My mouth hung open in shock but I recovered when Brandon stomped my right foot with his. I closed my eyes as the pain shot up my leg. Suppressing the rising anger and trying hard not to scoff, I twisted my face into a cold smile. You, Brandon Sawyer, are going to be in big trouble!

The man gave me a once over. I crossed my arms. "Are you judging me right now?"

"No-no, ma'am."

"Good. Because I know Bella is not kind with people pointing fingers at her girlfriend."

"Right." Brandon nodded, making wild actions to ask the man to keep it down. He even motioned once to show him that I was crazy and it was better to stay quiet.

Huh.

"So, what do you want to do?" I asked.

The man sweated.

"Are you going to take me to Bella or get fired?"

"Ma'am, in no way disrespectful, but can you show a proof that you know Ms. Roussel?"

I scoffed. "Proof?"

He nodded.

"Fine, I'll show it to you. Just because I understand that you want to protect her." I whipped my phone out from my sling bag and scrolled to the photos. Between the eons of photos of Brandon and me, I found the one photo that Bella had uploaded on her social network as a way to reconcile our relationship.

I showed him the photo, Bella and me standing together.

He wasn't sold, but he acknowledged it. I pulled my phone back. "So, you confirmed it. Let's go now."

"What's your name?" Brandon asked.

"David."

"Good, David. Bella is expecting us."

We twisted and turned as the stairways led us deep underground. I was queasy. What if David saw right through our act, and was now taking us into a big dungeon for lock up? Or maybe he was going to butcher us to death...

I shook my head. The thoughts didn't even make any sense.

But still, I was worried that David had complied too easily. Or maybe we were too convincing. Or he loved his job too much. If that was the case... He had more chances losing it now than ever.

We didn't end up in any dungeon. The place was well lit and posher than Lady Gaga's outfits. Feeling out of place in my simple dress and sneakers, Brandon and I huddled together after David. He kept waking forward, right and left and right. I saw no security other than him. Why did Alard place just one man at the reception area and not more? That was a bit unnerving to think.

We stopped outside a large wooden door. The door itself looked important. All mahogany wood and intricate designs. The hallway behind was narrow, with no rooms and this was a dead end. The small beeping CCTV camera was all the consoling we got before the gate was pushed open.

Brandon and I stepped in, blinded by the bright light coming in from the room. David closed the door behind us, and I suddenly felt trapped. But there was no going back.

Rising from a plush chair was Alard, his face twisted into a fake smile, and a pen twirling between his fingers. I swallowed as he began the walk towards both of us. It was slow, borderline torturous. His eyes glinting with something darker than amusement. Involuntarily, I took a step back, but Brandon held my hand, rooting us there on that spot.

With a foot of distance between us, he spoke, "You are here earlier than I expected, Tyler."

*****

Dessert from Britain this time (make yourselves known in the comments!). I want to add more local sweets from where my readers are. So hashtag me your place! I'll start #NewDelhiIndia

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Aanchal xx

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If you get bored while waiting, do check out my COMPLETED TIME TRAVEL FANTASY SHORT STORY: ONE OF THESE ENDINGS
(just a 30 min read)