Few weeks passed,Tal is feeding the goat on the farm"C'mon, eat. Aren't you hungry?"
"Meeeh"
"Tal, what are you doing?"
"Isabella—hi. The goat isn't eating."
She frowned. "That's strange. Don't you think it might be sick"
"Sick?!" Tal stiffened. "Right. That makes sense."Isabella nodded. "Goats are usually triggered by food. If it isn't eating, it's either being selective—or it's sick."
Tal grew tense, his attention fixed on her words, watching the goat closely.
"It needs a veterinarian."
"Okay… Isa, let's go," Tal said, moving toward the car.
Isabella blinked, caught off guard and slightly surprised.
While driving, Tal noticed she was lost in thought. "What are you thinking about?" he asked. She hesitated, then muttered, "Why did you call me Isa?"
Tal smirked faintly, thinking to himself, Is that her problem? He replied casually, "It's just a short form of Isabella."
Isabella looked at him, internally debating. Isn't that Bella? Ugh… never mind. Isa is better, she told herself, trying not to show her amusement.
They arrived at the veterinary clinic. The doctors examined the goat thoroughly, running a few tests and reassuring them it would recover with proper care.
While the vet spoke, Tal checked his watch.
"I have to go," he said calmly.
Isabella turned to him. "Go where?"
Tal reached into his pocket and handed her fifty dollars. "For the treatment."
She hesitated. "Tal—where are you going?"
"I have a flight to catch".
Before she could ask anything else, Tal stepped into the car. The engine started. And just like that, he drove off—leaving Isabella standing there, puzzled by how suddenly he had chosen to disappear.
Tal arrived at Nap International Airport, booked a ticket within the hour, and moved through security without hesitation. When boarding was announced, he entered the plane, took his seat, and stared ahead as the engines roared to life.
Several hours passed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We are preparing for landing."
The plane touched down.
Tal exited briskly, power-walking through the terminal toward the taxi stand.
His phone rang.
He answered.
"I never knew you were such a fast walker, Tal."
He stopped.
"Freya… you're here, aren't you?"
"What can I say?" she replied softly. "I'm here."
Tal smiled—and smirked—at the same time.
A car horn beeped.
Tal looked up.
Freya stepped out of the car and walked toward him. She wrapped her arms around him in a warm, two-second hug—long enough to mean something, short enough to say everything else remained unresolved.
"I'm glad you're back, Tal."
"It's good to see you too," he replied.
They got into the car and drove off.
While driving, Freya glanced at him.
"Hungry?"
"Yeah."
She smiled. "Okay. I've got the perfect place. Lahore Grill. You'll love it. It's close to the house—and the food's fantastic."
Tal raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Trust me," she said softly. "You know I never wish you bad."
Tal nodded, looking out the window. "I know."
The car slowed.
"We're here," Freya said.
Tal looked up. Lahore Grill.
Both walked in and had a seat. The waiter approached them.
"What would you like to have, sir/ma'am?"
"Two tikka rolls each, and a chicken kebab roll".
"Okay, ma'am… sir… and you?"
"Can I have the menu?
"Here, sir."
"Get me chicken biryani, chicken karahi, chana masala, and raita. That's all.
"Okay, sir."
"The food here is Amazing, Tal! You'll definitely find it tasty and end up applauding with a well-deserved 'well done.'"
"Also… there's a party tomorrow for your arrival."
"Seriously? Who planned it?"
"I did, Tal. Tomorrow is going to be fun!"
"Fun?" Tal smirked. "I see nothing fun about people eating free food and drinking free wine."
Freya looked at him, momentarily flabbergasted. He said that with so much confidence… She studied him more closely. Is Tal a celebrity? Oh my God.
"Are there any extra activities planned?" Tal asked. "Something that would actually make the party fun?"
"Ohhh," Freya said slowly. "So that's what you meant. You know, Tal, you should be clearer when you speak."
Tal tilted his head. "Let me guess—you grabbed the first half of what I said and assumed I was feeling all high and mighty. Am I right?"
"You're wrong, Tal. Don't tell me you thought you were a mind reader. What do you think you are—the Wizard of Oz? Merlin?"
Tal chuckled. "So I'm wrong, then."
"This isn't something you guess," Freya said firmly. "You are wrong."
"My apologies."
"No, it's my apology," Freya corrected.
"That's what I'm Saying ".
"No, no, no," she cut in. "You said my apologies."
Tal raised both hands. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."
Freya smiled. "Thank you".
"Le dîner est servi," the waiter announced. Supper is served.
"Xai o Chin Bachan… Bachan," Tal said quietly, with absolute seriousness.
There was a beat.
Freya stared at him—then completely lost it, laughter spilling out before she could stop herself.
The waiter blinked once. Then again. His smile faltered, hovering somewhere between politeness and concern.
Tal gently placed a hand on the waiter's shoulder, nodding as if he were about to share something deeply important.
"Gorobaque," he said, solemn
He paused.
Then Tal removed his hand and made a small, authoritative shooing motion with the same fingers.
"Gorobaque"
Another beat.
The waiter nodded, accepting this as a normal part of the job, and backed away.
Freya was laughing too hard to breathe.she said between chuckles. "You're silly."
Tal chortled softly, then picked up his fork and started eating. Freya followed suit, still smiling as she took a bite.
They ate in comfortable silence, the remnants of laughter lingering in the air.
By the time they finished their meal, both leaned back slightly, satisfied—and still grinning.Freya went ahead to pay the bill while Tal watched quietly from the table.
Moments later, they were back in the car.
As Freya pulled onto the road, the silence stretched—comfortable at first, then thoughtful.
She glanced at Tal.
"So," she said casually, eyes still on the road, "why did you quit your job and leave without saying a word?"
Moments later, they were back in the car.
As Freya pulled onto the road, the silence stretched—comfortable at first, then thoughtful.
She glanced at Tal.
"So," she said casually, eyes still on the road, "why did you quit your job and leave without saying a word?"
"It's all a planned event, Freya."
Freya breathed heavily, her hands drumming nervously on the wheel.
"We've arrived. Pull over, Freya."
"Oh—yeah. Sorry. I just… got lost in my thoughts."
She parked the car.
They both stepped out and walked into the house without another word.
Tal headed straight to his room.Within minutes, he was asleep.
Meanwhile, Freya stood still for a moment in the hallway, replaying the drive in her head.
She took a long shower, letting the water wash over her thoughts, then finally went to bed.
Sleep came—but not as quickly.
A deep breath.
What a beautiful day.
Today feels different… as if it chose its own moment to shine.
Freya paused by the window, sunlight brushing against her face.
Has Tal still not woken up?
Curiosity pulled her down the hallway. She stopped in front of his door and knocked lightly.
"Tal?"
A faint voice answered from inside.
"I'm awake."
Freya frowned slightly. "Then why haven't you come out? It's already 11 a.m."
A short pause.
"This master bedroom has everything I need right here," Tal replied lazily.
She shook her head, half-amused. "Don't forget — the party is at 6 p.m."
"Okay," Tal said.
Hours later, the decorators, chefs, and instrumentalists had arrived. The aroma of rich dishes drifted through the house as the interior slowly transformed into something elegant and grand. Instruments were tuned carefully, each note tested in anticipation.
Moments later, guests began to arrive.
Downstairs, they were welcomed by a soft performance of Your Song by Elton John, the melody warm and affectionate, filling the atmosphere with tenderness.
Freya went upstairs to check on Tal.
"Tal?" she called.
"I'm almost done."
"I'm coming in," Freya said as she opened the door.
She froze.
Tal stood there, fully dressed — in black.
"Tal… this isn't a funeral. You have to change to white."
"Freya, that doesn't really matter. There's no written law that supports that claim."
Freya remained standing there, visibly disoriented, her expression caught between confusion and disbelief.
"It's quarter past six," Tal added calmly. "Come on, let's go."
Without another word, they both left the room.
As they walked down the stairs, Freya glanced at Tal."Are you having a hard time with this whole party? You seem… uninterested."
"Am I?" Tal replied calmly.
"You are."
"Maybe," he said after a brief pause, "you weren't expecting my earlier reply."
As they descended the staircase, the melody of Your Song drifted gently through the hall, wrapping the guests in warmth and quiet nostalgia.
Freya glanced sideways at Tal.
"Are you having a hard time with this whole party? You seem… uninterested."
"Am I?" Tal replied, his tone even.
"You are."
He paused briefly, eyes forward. "Maybe you weren't expecting my earlier reply."
Before Freya could respond, a voice cut through the air.
"Tal! My man—the one true Arc Archivist! Good to see you!"
Tal turned just in time to meet a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, pal."
The newcomer's eyes shifted, landing on Freya. He straightened slightly.
"Wow, Tal… who is this lovely, beautiful-looking damsel?"
Tal lifted a brow. "Who's asking?"
The man stepped forward confidently, extending his hand. Freya accepted it with polite grace.
"Ethan," he said smoothly. "And you are?"
"Freya."
"Freya," he repeated, as if testing the poetry of her name. "Spellbinding. And I happen to have a thing for spells."
Freya laughed, genuinely amused.
Tal watched the exchange quietly, observing every detail—the tone, the posture, the ease.
Tal's eyes lingered on Freya and Ethan, another voice cut through the room.
"Tal."
He turned.
"Nolan."
They clasped hands—firm, familiar.
"Let's take a walk outside," Nolan said.
The night air was cooler. Crisp. Focused.
Just a few steps from the patio lights, Tal noticed a small crowd gathered beneath the lanterns. A group of chess players leaned over a wooden table, clocks ticking sharply.
Blitz. 3+0.
Pieces snapping. Hands hovering. No mercy.
Nolan smirked. "You think you can beat me now?"
Tal didn't hesitate.
"$1,000. You're on."
A few heads turned.
Money changes the temperature of competition.
They pulled a spare table beside the others. A chess mat unrolled smoothly across the surface. The clock was placed dead center.
Digital. Silent. Waiting.Before the game started, Tal turned to Nolan.
"Who invited all these chess players?"
"I did," she said.
Tal looked over, confused. He didn't recognize her.
Nolan leaned closer to him. "Wow… she's really, really pretty."
She walked up to Tal with calm confidence and extended her hand.
"Hi. Victoria Laurence is the name. And my studies about you tell me you are Oliver Tal—also known as The Arc Archivist."
Tal was left stunned.
She turned to address everyone.
"Everyone, listen up. The reason I called all these players here was for Tal. I knew he would be bored. After all, Tal here hasn't played chess for a week now. So I brought twelve mega grandmasters of chess here tonight."
She paused, scanning the group.
"If gambling is something you can handle, step forward please."