A dappled glint of sunshine greeted Vernon’s sight the moment he woke up making him squint for a second to get used to it.

The blindingly white room which smelled of sickening antiseptics was deadly silent, not until a familiar, gentle voice called out his name, snapping him out of his trance. 

He slowly lifted his head, meeting gazes with a pair of deep sapphire blue eyes, so deep that the seven oceans would be jealous. 

“You saved me.” The girl’s voice came out hoarse and cracked. It was a struggle to speak after has burned from screaming endlessly the night her stepmother stabbed her. 

“I did.” The boy responded gently. “If we weren’t neighbors, you would’ve been–”

“Dead.” Wendy completed his sentence, her gut twisted saying the word. “That crazy, psychotic woman almost killed me.” 

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore, she got arrested.” 

“I’m glad she didn’t have the chance to run away, and thank you for saving me.” 

“You’re welcome.” Vernon smiled softly, and the girl could swear she’s been taken to cloud nine.

* *

There’s nothing more rare, nor more beautiful than a woman being unapologetically herself and comfortable in her perfect imperfection.

To me, that is the true essence of beauty. 

Vernon thought to himself as he calmly stared at Wendy who was sleeping safe and sound.

The Canadian girl may hate herself sometimes for being born with tragedy in her blood, but she does accept her flaws and doesn’t give a damn about her imperfections even if the action was barely shown. 

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, the boy carefully trailed his index finger on the silver locket around Wendy’s neck, holding the pendant on his palm. It was a heart-shaped pendant, and it gleamed faintly beneath the light, and a name was carved at the back. 

Scarlet Campbell. 

Who could she be? He wondered if it was a name of one of the girl’s family members in Canada, and indeed the unfamiliar name was Wendy’s deceased mother. 

 
A parade of sweet humming marched past the sleeping girl’s ears.

It was as soothing as a lullaby. Tardily, her heavy eyes fluttered open only to see Vernon looking at her with an apologetic expression, and Wendy instantly shook her head as if she was saying: Don’t be sorry, you didn’t disturb my sleep. 

“You have a wonderful voice,” she said genuinely. “What song is it?” 

“As long as you love me.” Vernon answered sheepishly. 

“Backstreet Boys?”

“It is.” 

There was a brief silence. Then Wendy was the first to speak again. 

“Have you ever felt like you belong to someone? Not in a possessive way, but like those soulmates stuffs in stories where you think you found them in a short time.” she asked, eyes locked into the boy’s own even though she was nervous to make eye contact, and her heart beating shamelessly.

“I do.” Vernon countered. “Why’d you ask?” <