Mr. Kester had just driven into the expansive yet tastefully modest compound of the Andrews. The neatly trimmed hedges, soft gravel driveway, and the soothing sound of a fountain in the center courtyard painted a picture of quiet elegance. Though the Andrews were wealthier by far, they carried themselves with the grace of those who had nothing to prove.
As he parked his car near the front entrance, the door opened and Felicia, Mr. Andrew's wife, stepped out with a warm smile lighting up her face.
"Kester, it's been too long," she said, walking briskly toward him.
"Felicia, always radiant," Mr. Kester replied with a grin as he stepped out of the car.
Beside him, Celine emerged—tall, poised, and carrying a quiet charm. Felicia's eyes softened at the sight.
"Oh my! Celine, you've grown into such a lovely young woman," she said, embracing her lightly. "I can't believe I'm seeing you both here, under my roof. What a good day this is."
They exchanged pleasantries as they made their way into the house. The interior was just as warm and inviting as the exterior—polished wooden floors, soft cream walls adorned with paintings, and the subtle scent of fresh flowers. They settled into the sitting room, where the soft cushions and natural lighting made it hard not to relax.
Tina, the housekeeper, soon entered with a tray of wine glasses and a bottle chilled to perfection. She served them with the practiced ease of someone who knew the house's rhythm.
"So," Felicia began as she poured the wine, "the weather's good, and somehow, I have the ever-elusive Mr. Kester and his beautiful daughter in my house. What have I done to deserve this surprise?"
"Greetings, Uncle Andrew," Celine said sweetly as Mr. Andrew walked into the room, adjusting his sleeves.
"Little Lee?" he chuckled, taking a good look at her. "You're hardly little anymore. Look at you—a young lady already. I reckon the wedding bells will be ringing soon."
"Aunty," Celine blushed, turning to Felicia with a shy smile, "the bell hasn't even been bought yet."
"Well," Felicia laughed, "don't worry. We'll make sure we're the ones who buy it. I'll pick a nice silver one myself."
Everyone burst into laughter. It was lighthearted, but beneath the joking, Celine silently clung to the hope that someday the joke would become reality.
"I told my car not to bring me here," Mr. Kester said, leaning back in his seat. "But it insisted. Stubborn thing."
"Even your car knows what a terrible friend you've been," Mr. Andrew shot back playfully. "It had to drag you here on its own."
More laughter followed. Then the two men stood, clasping hands in a firm shake that spoke of long years of brotherhood—marked by rivalry, loyalty, and silent understanding.
As they sat again, Mr. Andrew's gaze flicked toward Celine for a brief moment. "I hope our little plan works," he said under his breath, though the intent in his voice was clear.
"It will," Mr. Kester replied confidently. "It always does."
"They always have some plan brewing," Felicia whispered to Pauline, who had been sitting quietly beside her, observing.
"We're used to it," Pauline replied with a shrug and a small smirk. Then, turning to Celine, she added, "Here, sweetheart, I want you to show Felicia that book."
Celine reached into her bag and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book, its edges slightly worn but well cared for. She handed it to Felicia.
"What's this?" Felicia asked curiously, accepting the book.
As she opened it, her eyes widened. Her brows lifted in surprise as she flipped through the pages. "Honey, come take a look at this," she said, waving her husband over.
Mr. Andrew walked over and leaned in, his expression turning curious, then serious as he glanced at the contents.
"What exactly am I looking at here?" he asked.
Pauline smiled. "Something we think might interest you both—and maybe help push certain dreams a little closer to reality."
Felicia looked up, the book still open on her lap. "Is this what I think it is?"
"It is," Mr. Kester confirmed. "And with a little help, it could change a few things for the better."
"Don't tell me Celine designed all this," Mr. Andrew said, though the awe in his voice revealed he already knew the answer.
"My princess drew those," Mr. Kester said with pride swelling in his voice, resting a hand on Celine's shoulder. His eyes gleamed, not with arrogance, but the genuine joy of a father who had watched talent blossom quietly, steadily.
There was a pause. But it wasn't empty—it was full of meaning, of admiration, of shared realization.
"Indeed, a genius in the design industry," Felicia breathed, her fingers gently turning another page. "These aren't just designs. They tell stories. Emotions. Purpose. This one here—" she tapped on a sketched plan of a community center surrounded by green spaces and open art installations— "it speaks of life. Of hope."
"She's always had that eye," Pauline added softly. "Even as a child, she would rearrange her toys, her books, even napkins at the table, until they looked 'just right.' We thought it was play. Turns out, it was vision. "She exhales deeply "we've really wronged her
Mr. Andrew ran a hand over his chin, staring at a particularly intricate page. "These could easily compete in national architectural contests. Possibly international ones." He looked at Celine. "Have you submitted these anywhere?"
"No, sir," Celine replied, slightly flustered. "I… I wasn't sure they were ready."
"They're more than ready," he said firmly. "With the right platform, these could be brought to life."
Kester smiled. "That's why we're here. We didn't just come for wine and laughter, though both are excellent."
Mr. Andrew chuckled. "So, the plan is to make sure she gets the spotlight she deserves."
"Exactly," Mr. Kester confirmed. "She's got the talent. We've got the connections and the resources. Together, we can do something big—not just for her, but for others who'll benefit from her vision."
Felicia looked between the two men, then back at Celine. "Darling, if you want this—really want this—we'll make sure the door opens. And when it does, don't just walk through it. Run."
Celine felt a mix of awe, emotion, and gratitude stir in her chest. She looked around the room—these people, their belief in her, their kindness—and nodded with a tearful smile.
"I want this," she said. "And I'll run. I promise."
Mr. Andrew smiled, extending a hand toward her. "Then welcome to the first day of the rest of your journey, Miss Designer."
They all raised their glasses in a spontaneous toast—no grand speeches, just the quiet warmth of people rooting for someone they believed in.