CHAPTER TWO: The Agreement

The sun tiptoes through the floral curtains, casting a gentle warmth on the worn wooden floors and shelves laden with well-loved books. I stand before my modest vanity mirror, an unspoken excitement lighting my hazel eyes. My wardrobe is a collection of muted tones and comfortable fabrics. I slip into a shirt, a cardingan, a pair of well-worn jeans, and a comfortable pair of ankle boots.

My hands move with purpose as I reach for a subtle palette of makeup. A touch of earthy eyeshadow and a stroke of mascara frame my eyes, accentuating the sparkle within, while a light pink blush and lipstick gives color to my pale complexion. I then comb my layered bangs and my brown wavy hair with my fingers, allowing some to fall on my shoulders and the rest, to my back. But, my excitement amplifies as I pick up my favorite accessory – my eyeglasses.

“I can’t wait!” I giggle as I envision the events that’ll take place in a few moments from now.

The wooden floor creaks beneath me as I make my way out of my bedroom, but I move with the grace of someone who knows every inch of the house. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, my parents look up from their breakfast nook. Mama sips her coffee, while my papa, with newspaper in hand, offers a warm smile. 

"Good morning, darling," mama greets, the gentle clink of her spoon against the porcelain mug accompanying her words.

My lips curve into an infectious grin. "Morning, mama, papa!"

"Sit down and join us for breakfast," papa invites, gesturing to the empty chair.

But I, the excitement in me undiminished, shake my head with a polite refusal. "I'd love to, but I've got something exciting planned. Can't stay – the day's calling!"

Mama’s eyebrows rise inquisitively, but papa chuckles, understanding the fire in his daughter's spirit. 

"Well, don't keep us in suspense. Have a fantastic day, Ana!" he says.

With a quick peck on my parents' cheeks, I twirl toward the door, leaving the comforting aroma of the kitchen and the familial warmth of the house behind. 

The city streets buzz with the pulsating rhythm of urban life as I hail a taxi. I slide into the backseat, the cityscape blurring past as the cab merges into the traffic. As the taxi navigates the bustling streets, my gaze flits between skyscrapers and fleeting glimpses of hidden alleyways.  Soon, the Moonlit Book Cafe materializes before me, a whimsical structure adorned with ivy-covered walls and a sign that flickers brightly like Christmas lights.

The driver pulls to a gentle stop, and my heart quickens its pace. I fumble with the fare, exchanging bills with the driver, my gaze never leaving the cafe's inviting facade.

The moment the taxi door swings open, I step onto the cobblestone path, the click-clack of my boots’ heels harmonizing with the distant melody of a street musician. The cafe's entrance nods, a wooden door adorned with wrought-iron motifs, and I push it open with a sense of reverence.

As I cross the threshold, the ambient sounds of the city give way to the hushed murmur of pages turning and the soft clinking of cups and saucers. The cafe unfolds before me like a bibliophile's dream – cozy nooks with mismatched armchairs, shelves reaching toward the ceiling, and the warm glow of pendant lights casting a spellbinding aura. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the faint hint of old books create scents that bespoke literary bliss. My chest vibrates with delight as I wander through the bookshelves, my fingers gently grazing spines laden with stories waiting to be discovered.

“Nice,” I murmur.

Subsequently, a staff clad in a crisp uniform approaches me with a warm smile. "Ms. Anastasia Sanchez?" the staff inquires, holding a small clipboard against her chest.

I nod eagerly. "That's me."

The staff extends a polite hand. "Author Agness is waiting for you on the second floor."

"Lead the way, please!" I reply, beaming.

The staff navigates through the mazes of tables, and I follow. As we ascend the narrow staircase, a low hum of anxiety suddenly envelopes me. The second floor promises an intimate gathering - dimmed lights bathe the area in a warm glow, and a backdrop adorned with book covers stretches across one wall. A small podium stands at the center, flanked by plush chairs awaiting both author and reader.

The staff leads me toward a small room at the corner - it’s a hidden room, perhaps a concealed treasure only the most ardent book lovers stumble upon? Dimly lit, with walls lined by shelves brimming with dusty hardcovers and aged paperbacks. 

My breath hitches as I catch sight of the acclaimed writer - an elegant figure in a white one-piece business suit, seated in an armchair with an inviting smile. The air seems charged with creative energy, and I feel like a character stepping into the pages of my favorite novel - Bonded.

"Ms. Sanchez, Author Agness," the staff announces with a respectful nod before fading into the background.

Author Agness rises, her black eyes brightening as she extends a hand toward me. "Anastasia Sanchez! I've been looking forward to meeting you. Thank you for joining us."

I continue to beam with joy, my excitement reaching a crescendo. "The pleasure is all mine, Author Agness."

I sit across from her. The air buzzes with an unspoken connection between us, as if the room itself holds its breath in reverence for the meeting of minds.

Author Agness leans forward, a cup of steaming latte clasped in her quite wrinkled hands. "Ms. Sanchez, do indulge in some of the café's finest. A latte, perhaps?"

Still wrapped in the enchantment of the moment, I politely wave off the offer. "Thank you, but I'm fine. This is... surreal, being here with you."

Author Agness chuckles, her eyes twinkling with a seasoned warmth. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Sanchez. I always enjoy connecting with readers, especially those who've found something special in my work. What is it about Bonded that captivates you?"

I take a deep breath, readying my response. "The romance in your story is incredible and so are the characters, truly. But, if I may, the ending... I have an idea, a twist that could make it even more memorable."

Author Agness drops her smile while fixing some strands of her silver cropped hair with her fingers. "I'm all ears. Please, share your thoughts."

I straighten my back, my hands gesticulating in the air, animatedly expressing my fervent idea. "Imagine this – what if Yvanna retracts her decision in calling off their engagement? And, you know, Hugh happily accepts her again! They could have their happy ending, and it would be so satisfying for the readers!"

Author Agness stares with a poker face, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her untouched latte. Then, with a measured tone, she speaks. "Ms. Sanchez, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but that's a rather predictable route. Retracting decisions for the sake of a happy ending can feel contrived. It's crucial to let the characters evolve naturally, even if it means embracing the complexity of their choices."

My enthusiasm dims, replaced by a flicker of disappointment, but I’m not ready to concede. I question, "Are you saying you can't make it work? Maybe it's a lack of creativity on your part."

Author Agness meets my gaze with unwavering honesty. "Creativity doesn't lie in pandering to expectations, but in crafting a narrative that resonates with truth. A story doesn't always need a happy ending to be powerful. Life, after all, isn't always a fairy tale."

I, momentarily taken aback, retort, "Well, I thought you are a talented writer, but I guess I'm wrong."

Author Agness, unperturbed, responds with a serene conviction, "Ms. Sanchez, I may not agree with altering the ending of Bonded, but I see a spark in your enthusiasm.” She leans even closer, and with a teasing tone, asks, “How about this – would you like to write its sequel?"

My eyes widen, a spark of excitement reigniting within me. Without giving it a hard thought, I reply, "Me? Write the sequel? Oh, that would be incredible! I'd love to!"

Author Agness nods, a faint smirk playing on her painted lips. "Consider it an opportunity to explore your creative voice. Write the story however you want. I promise, I won’t interfere. But once the sequel begins, you have to finish it no matter what.”

"Absolutely! I'll pour my heart into it. You won't be disappointed!"

Though my heart races with a newfound sense of purpose, my smile falters a little. The longer I look at Author Agness, the more I’m noticing that there’s something weird, almost creepy, with the way she smirks while looking at me, It's as if silently telling me that I'll regret my acceptance of her offer.