Returning Red

#1[ii]: Isabella Cosmo.

My eyes become observant and hungry. I try not to make it obvious as I watch the elevator that Robert is eyeing. My heart thumps and I hate how there are too many walls, glass doors, and pillars obstructing my view. But the first thing that catches my attention is the new black hair. My face frowns when I see her eyes obstructed by a layer of glasses now. She has a red file in her hand and her nails are painted in striking black nail polish. 

Her red-painted lips keep moving as her assistant behind her struggles to make note of everything she's saying. Her navy blue blazer matches her pants. Her black shirt inside the blazer is almost as striking as her black stilettos and she's walking in it like the corridor's a runway ramp and she is a model; my point is, she doesn't look like she is going to trip. 

Her lips stop moving but her eyebrows are still furrowed. Her face is stone cold and hard with no expressions. Who is this person? She nears the glass door of the conference room and I take a loud breath, the door is the only thing separating us. She pushes the door open and my eyes tear up. Her face is straight, she doesn't look anywhere else. 

I observe how everyone has stopped talking in the room. All eyes in this room are on her, but hers is locked up onto the projection on the wall with the magazine cover idea. Her eyebrows furrow more as she stares at the cover, not bothering about who is in the hall and who is not. I want to smile because this is the first thing about Isabella Cosmo that I actually recognize. Unbothered from the world. Walking into a room full of people who turn to look at her but she is so busy being herself, that she just does what she wants to do. 

She turns around and I hope her eyes meet mine. I hope she looks at me. I hope she recognizes me and smiles. I don't want to picture an instance of her not recognizing me. She wouldn't have forgotten me, yet. I hope. God, I pray. 

But she just keeps her file on the table, wakes her laptop screen up, rests her phone parallelly to her laptop, in alignment and she sighs. 

"Good afternoon," oh fucking kill me already I so missed that voice. It's more stern and cold than before but it's her voice and it instantly makes me smile. 

I am so close to her, absolutely so close and yet, so invisible. I cannot take my eyes off her and yet, she doesn't even realize I am so near her. I remember this parallel from the starting days of school. How she was so busy being herself and how I couldn't take my eyes off her unpredictable, spontaneous, and virtuous personality. 

It's a fucking loop and we're starting all over again. 

It's absurd to me. How could I ever consider hating this woman who's standing in front of me, unbothered by the world around her? For all I care, she could drive a stake through my heart again and I would still be watching her with a smile. Fuck all 8 years of Recycle Bin therapy and Aiden's moving on crap, I just had to look at her one more time, so closely, to fall so fucking deep in love with her all over again. No matter how much it hurt or how mad I am at her, I could never stop loving her and that is my ugly truth. 

"Uh, before we begin Bella," Robert caught her attention and I gulped. This was it, she was going to turn and look at me. The rest of the words got beeped out of my head as the air around me tensed. She was going to look at me. She was going to turn to me. Robert gestured his hand in my direction and her eyes slowly followed. 

I missed her dark-brown-almost-red gaze piercing through my eyes. 

Fuck. 

Her eyes met mine and instantly, her frown disappeared. I noticed her lips stopped curving too. Her lips parted and she took a deep breath and forgot to let it out. I watch her hands fisting and relaxing, looking pale and white. Through her glasses, I could see her almost red eyes trying to digest the fact that I was right in front of her.