With chin held up but eyes a bit squinting, the woman in the orange dress, continuously walked inside the restaurant. Her tight, scandalous outfit rustled sharply as she walked through the limes of occupied tables, her heavy designer perfume trailing behind her and overpowering the rich, savory scent of the authentic Italian pasta. Her high heels clicked loudly against the clean-looking tiled floor, and her bloodshot eyes were locked with laser-like focus on only one target.
She walked past to the table of Darmiel and Ameelah, both the latter not noticing her. They were too deeply engrossed in their own private conversation, their hands still tenderly intertwined over the white tablecloth as they laughed softly at a shared joke about their son. The pure, undisturbed happiness radiating fr
