Broken Memories, Intertwined Hearts

Phoebe was on the brink of losing it. Her mother’s voice thundered through the phone like an unstoppable force of nature. “Listen to me, Phoebe. If
you mess up one more time, don’t you even think about coming back home, and don’t you dare call me Mom again. I’ll act like I never had such an
ungrateful daughter. Do you have any idea how much I’ve gone through for you? Do you think it’s easy for me?”
With what could only be described as practiced calm, Phoebe set the phone on speaker, placed it gently on her desk, and continued to swiftly edit
tomorrow’s article. Her fingers were dancing across the keyboard. Only when the tirade from the other end ceased did she bring the phone back to
her ear.
This had become a daily sitcom, playing out multiple times a day. She was well accustomed to it, so she was immune to it now.
Whatever was meant to be, would be. No one could force her into anything she didn’t want, least of all her own mother.
“Phoebe, are you even listening to me? Make some noise if you are, and stop playing possum,” her mother demanded.
Shaking her head, Phoebe genuinely worried about her mother’s blood pressure. How could she still be so hot-tempered at her age?
As her father used to say, Mrs. Wagner was accustomed to being angered by her. If she didn’t get her daily rant out, she’d feel all wrong inside.
Phoebe would endure. What choice did she have? With a smile that could light up a room, she replied in a tone dripping with sweetness, “I’ve heard
every word, dearest mother. Eight PM at Lakeside Cottage, a date with Morgan. He is an Ivy League returnee who’s conquered Wall Street for years
— an absolute catch. Then at ten, I’m meeting the dashing heir of Yates International, a man of height and handsome features, a match well-fitted for
me. You secured him through your tireless efforts.”

Did they really think she was out of the loop? As a magazine editor, she was as connected as they came. The so-called Mr. Morgan was nothing but a
pampered silver-spoon buffoon she wouldn’t even befriend, let alone date. Fake degrees, fake experiences — she wouldn’t be surprised if his height
included elevator shoes.
And the Yates heir? A notorious playboy.
Phoebe despised her current lifestyle. She had two years of blind dates since she was twenty-five. Was it her fault she hadn’t married by twenty-
seven? She wasn’t a criminal. She was financially independent, and an ambitious woman. Who was she bothering?
Yet her dear mother seemed hell-bent on packaging her off like a product on sale.
Family are the people you love most, but they are also the people who leave you feeling the most helpless.

“Phoebe, stop placating me and take some real action. I’m not asking you to bring home a bunch of buddies. I need you to find a husband. If you
don’t fancy the guys, don’t lead them on. I have no time to waste with matchmakers,” Meg said with uncharacteristic calmness and gravity.
Meg was at her wit’s end with her unconventional daughter. Most men who met Phoebe were charmed and wanted to take things further. But
Phoebe? She couldn’t be bothered with any of them, leaving Meg caught in the middle.
Phoebe paused, and her hands were still on the keyboard. Her mother’s words were heavy with a sense of defeat, which wasn’t lost on her. She
didn’t want to be contrary; she just hadn’t met a man who stirred even a hint of interest in her.
Her friend Ines, once fearful of marriage, had tied the knot and transformed completely. The shock sent ripples through Phoebe. She wondered if it
was time to drop the cynical act and find someone to settle down with. Perhaps only by taking that leap could she find what she was looking for.
With that in mind, she decided to speak up, “Mom, actually, about these two men you mentioned, their reputations aren’t exactly good...”

“Phoebe, cut the nonsense and just go on the dates,” her mother interjected before she could finish.
Rubbing her forehead in resignation, Phoebe realized her mother had hung up. She sighed, finished editing the article, and sent it off before leaving
work. That evening, Phoebe applied makeup so heavy that she could hardly recognize herself. She arrived at Lakeside Cottage. She ordered a
coffee and was about to take a sip when the conversation of a couple nearby caught her attention, and she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
Noel was equally frustrated. His best friend, who had always shunned women, was now married, leaving Noel to face the wrath of his old man and a
slew of blind dates. And what a date it was? Facing his date’s prim and proper facade, he couldn’t feel anything at all. He couldn’t just walk away,
though, despite how much he wanted to.
He’d seen too many women like her, and he was sure it was all an act.
Unable to bear her soft-spoken manner any longer, he cut to the chase, “Miss, have you ever been in love?”
She paused, clearly caught off guard, and shook her head.
“Are you kidding me? At twenty-eight, you’ve never been in love? Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin,” Noel said with a hint of distaste.
She blushed furiously, at a loss for words, whether from shock or the embarrassment of being caught in a lie.
“So what do you see in me? My house, my car, my family?” Noel pressed on, exuding arrogance. He wanted to end this date as quickly as possible.
Finally, this woman lost control. Her eyes widened. “Noel, we’re on a blind date. Of course, I considered these factors.”

Blind dates were about two strangers seeking a life partner, so she had every right to vet his credentials. She wasn’t so desperate to marry just
anyone.
Noel spread his hands, a charming smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “So what you’re telling me, Miss, is that you’re all flustered and indignant.
But let’s face it. You’re no longer the innocent maiden you claim to be.”
“Noel, are you out of your mind? What century are you living in that you’re clinging to such an outdated notion?” The woman stood her ground. Her
neck was stiff with defiance as she fought to quell the anger rising within her. If her family hadn’t drilled into her head before she left that the Yates
were super powerful, she would never have put up with this man. Sure, he was easy on the eyes – strikingly so – but even the prettiest face couldn’t
make up for a venomous tongue. She was at her wit’s end.