The Longing

Three Months Later

Pierre's POV

I can't just sit comfortably at this hospital without knowing if Ama is going through any difficulties over there in Dijon Burgundy. Three months have passed, but not a call from her. Ama has communicated with my parents, but she hasn't called me since she left.

I should call her since she doesn't want to contact me. I brought out my phone from my lap colt pocket as I immediately dialed her number, but instantly it showed —That the user was busy. It has been like this for these few months that have passed. I've not reached her, but my parents talk to her daily.

I know she's doing this to me on purpose. Ignoring me, but what the hell did I do to deserve such treatment from her?

Immediately, the landline rings. "Maybe it's her," I said as I hurriedly grabbed the phone. But was highly disappointed at the voice that was vaping inside my ears. It was from the nurse. After she instantly drops the patient's message being up from a month's coma. I nodded as if she was right in front of me as I slowly put the phone down.

Why am I even concerned about Ama's whereabouts? She is no longer a child nor a teenager. I should just let her be.

I removed my phone from —Do not disturb, then immediately, a strange number was calling me right away. I signed in frustration, giving up from the mind of Ama because it's making me so mad. I picked up and moved the phone closer to my ears.

"Hello," I voiced out tiredly.

"Hello, Pierre," The recognized voice bums out from the other end of the phone.

I felt my stamina reboot. "Ama?" I asked in shock.

"Pierre. I'm occupied now, Pierre; I saw your missed calls. Is there anything that matters? Is the discussion urgent?"

"Uhm...I...Uhm, I want to know if you're okay? Except that, it's nothing urgent!" I stuttered at the cold voice that she replied to me over the phone.

I felt she's changed a lot. Her voice holds no happiness and warmth towards me.

"Oh, I'm super okay, Pierre; I'm working at a fashion boutique over here, and I have an apartment now too. So, you don't have to be worried about me,"

"Oh, that's...that's good to know!" I said.

"Okay then, if that's all, I've to go now!"

Instantly, she hangs up so fast. Has she thwarted me? Has she removed my presence from her heart? What have I done to deserve such treatment from her? Does she hate me so much?

—

"I'm so sorry, Pierre. I can't keep this up. This is the only way to help me heal, the only way to forget about you," Ama thinks sadly.

"Ms. Temil!" The client calls from the changing room.

"Coming!" I yelled slowly. I walked down to the changing room to meet my client of the day.

"This dress, You look a bit fat in it, don't you think so?"

"Ms. Temil, NO, this is exactly how I wanted it to be, so you don't have to tell me how I am in my dress," Mrs. Dupont said.

Mrs. Antoinette Dupont is the wife of the state politician. She always shops every bit of her dresser from our casual-chic boutique: Envie d'Ailes.

"You were appointed to create a new dresser wardrobe for me, and you are calling me fat?" Her eyes changed from the calm politician's wife to the villain of star wars.

"Uhm...I'm so sorry, Madame Dupont! I wanted you to know that the dress looks a bit tight from the outside, and I didn't mean any harm to you," Ama let out.

"No, I'm sure you just called me fat. I've worked with Monae as my platinum dresser, but she was given a resignation letter. Now, I'm working with you for the second time, and this is what you are saying? Calling me fat?" She added in anger.

"Mrs. Dupont, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean it that way, I just started this job two months ago, and I won't like to lose this Job instead. Please, have mercy on me."

She gradually pulled down the dress and tossed it on the chair. "This is not what I want; I requested for the new edition of Givenchy gown, and you gave me Louis Vuitton. You're just a disrespectful bitch. I've been shopping here for five years, and this is the first time some lame-ass worker talks back at me and calls me fat," Her French accent rolls out from her tongue.

"Mrs. Antoinette Dupont. I'll be glad if you don't rain insult down on me. I just told you that I'm sorry because you got my word as a blunder. I didn't mean it the way you took it," I felt the anger in me slowly arising.

"Unbelievable. This is so unbelievable. How dare you talk back at me? I have to report your attitude towards me to your manager when he gets back. I'll leave for now," she angrily picks up her bag and walks away as her bodyguards follow her.

Immediately, I picked up my phone to call Lou. He picks up on the second ring. "Hello, Lou, I had a clash with a customer just now, and she angrily walks away saying that she'll report me to my boss," I let out to Lou.

"Geez. What happened?" He asks, sounding shocked.

"It was with a politician's wife. Mrs. Antoinette Dupont, she called me a bitch!" I added.

"Don't worry; I know Mrs. Antoinette Dupont. I was the architect of her home, so I know them, and they know me too. You don't have to worry; I will handle things. You come back first," Lou said.

"Okay!" I voiced out.

"Ama, you've been working so hard over there. Don't you think you'll lessen your shift at least? The boutique has twenty workers, and you're just one of them!"

"No, Lou, this is what I'm supposed to do. To work hard and make it massively is my dream goal."

"Okay then, see you soon!" He said and hung up.

-

An hour later, The manager arrived and was In his office, and so were the rest workers and I facing our computer on her desk.

"Ama Temil," Someone called.

It was the voice of the manager, Franklin Moulin, a tall, handsome man in his forties, brown hair, and blue eyes, but he was a gay man, so that I won't count him as part of my wanted lists.

"Yes, boss..." I stood up as other eyes diverted to me.

"Can you come in for a moment?" He added with his feminine voice.

Apart from his appearance, if someone told me that he's trans male, I'll so bet my life savings on it that he's a transgender person for real.

"Okay, boss, I'm on my way!" I said slightly.

In less than a minute, I walked into his office. With a slight bow. "Boss, you're back,"

He smiled. "Ama dear, I'm sorry I didn't let you guys know about my whereabouts; I went to the theatre to check up on the dresses that were sent to the upcoming beauty state pageant that will be taking place next weekend,"

"But sir, the new dress that was sent down yesterday thinking it was Givenchy, it's not Givenchy, it has a Louis Vuitton patches."

"No, Ama, it's Givenchy and not Louis Vuitton; it's just that the material used in sewing the free are the same product but different designs," He said.

"Hmmm, how weird," she frowns.

"Let me show you the difference between the two designs; I have a picture on my phone," He said as he brought out his phone to show me the difference.

"You see, it's not the Louis Vuitton," He voiced out with a convincing smile at Ama.

'It doesn't look the same here, but why did Mrs. Dupont state that it's not Givenchy? Even I checked it to know I've seen this same material at a Louis Vuitton shop downtown.'

"How is this possible? Mrs. Dupont said she requested for Givenchy but was given Vuitton instead,"

"She must have made mistakes about the materials. Jose had been our factory tailor for years, and he had never cheated the boutique before, not once, not ever. He knows the customer's requests, mostly our more prominent clients too. Jose won't do anything that he's not supposed to do, not even his workers,"

"No, boss, they mess up with the materials. I can smell foul play here," Ama tried to make him see from her point of view.

"Ama, that's enough chitchat already; I don't blame you; you can now go back to work." He slowly held my shoulders and helped me out the door.

"But boss..."

"No, buts!" He slams the door.

I slowly walked back to my seat. "Something is not right here. I think Mrs. Dupont is right because she seems like a fashion guru, and I know she knows every design by labels or materials and styles,"

Instantly, I rushed back to the clothes stands but could no longer find the grown that Mrs. Dupont rejected on the hanger.

'I am sure I dropped it back at the stand. Where is it now? Something is not correct.' she thought curiously.