The digital alarm clock on Marzia’s bedside table rang for the fifth time that morning.
“Oh no, shit, shit,” Marzia frantically kicked off the blanket that were wrapped around her body after rubbing her eyes open. She didn’t even realize she had overslept, only successfully jolting awake by the annoying beeping sound of her alarm.
Marzia did not have to check her phone to know that there’s probably around two— no, at least ten missed calls and texts from Dante asking about her whereabouts. It took her no longer than twenty minutes to be dressed in a fresh outfit, taking a slice of bread with her to eat in the car.
Glancing at her watch, it is now one past forty seven in the afternoon. She was supposed to be in the workshop five hours ago but after arriving home late from last night’s gala had worn her out. She came home around two in the morning last night, barely getting out of her dress before landing herself on her bed.
It’s not that big of a deal if Marzia had arrived late to work, Dante and the other staffs would understand. Heck, they wouldn’t even mind if she didn’t showed up today since everyone knew that Marzia particularly worked hard on this year’s charity gala.
Call it overworking, however Marzia knew she had to give her all, this was her first big event after transporting into an alternate dimension after all. Though she was helped by the OC’s consciousness that hid deep within her, most of the works and organizing of the gala was led by Marzia herself.
A perfectionist, that’s what she is. Definitely a Virgo.
Even so, there were a few instances where Marzia would break down in tears, sobbing her heart out in frustration and in fear of losing herself in the process. She was scared of losing everything she had left; her memories from her past life. Some would think she’d be happy with what she has now — money, fame, immense talent in fashion designing, and knowing the once famous boy group members in her past life personally, but Marzia would beg to differ.
It was lonely. Having no one to rely on.
Marzia stopped by a cafe that was not far from the workshop to get Dante a little treat as a form of apology. She ordered an iced americano for him, and a nice freshly baked strawberry shortcake.
Marzia was about to search for a seat in the cafe when a tall man abruptly bumped into her. Her white blouse now drenched in dark liquid — probably the cup of coffee that was in the man’s hand. “I’m so sorry! I need to go right now but here’s my business card-” the man bowed his head hurriedly at Marzia, taking a piece of paper from his back pocket. “You can call me later for compensation. See you and sorry again!” He ran off without sparing a glance at Marzia.
“Didn’t expect to meet you like this,” Marzia mumbled under her breath, holding the business card in her right hand. “Jean Aubert, the seventh bachelor.”
‘Last night it was Fabian, now Jean? I need to stop getting drenched in drinks.’
