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“You have to admit visiting Bran Castle is exciting,” Ioana says with a laugh. “And absolutely terrifying.”
Taking a bite of my ice cream, I glance at her, amused.
“It was your idea to visit it,” I remind her. “I already told you I’m going to hate staying alone in the house afterward.” To prove just how serious I am, I finish the sentence with an exaggerated shiver running through my body.
“Oh, please. The second you go back to New York and return to your chaotic schedule, you won’t even have the time to think about it anymore.”
I hope so.
I hope I won’t have time to think about anything at all.
I hope work consumes me long enough for me to wake up one morning without feeling the need to hear Zayn’s voice.
I hope he stops appearing in my head every second of the day.
I hope the memory of his touch fades. I hope I stop craving every single thing connected to him.
Being in love and betrayed at the same time is absolutely devastating.
“Come on, let’s take a few pictures before it gets dark,” Ioana says, grabbing my hand.
“Jesus, easy,” I laugh, letting her drag me after her.
✨
Three thousand four hundred and seventy pictures later, with darkness already settled outside, we’re standing inside the reception hall of a hotel in Poiana Braşov.
We’ve been waiting nearly ten minutes for our room keys because some kind of booking error happened and our rooms were apparently given to someone else. Still, we’ve been assured it’s not a problem since they have other suites available.
Meanwhile, I take the opportunity to admire the reception hall.
An enormous chandelier descends from the ceiling, its thousands of crystals scattering warm light evenly across the entire room.
Most of the walls imitate carved stone, interrupted here and there by sections of greenery filled with rare plants, arranged with an elegance that must require unbelievable precision to maintain.
The white marble flooring creates the illusion of endless space, while directly ahead stands a massive staircase straight out of a royal palace.
Romania.
I missed it more than I realized. The architecture here. The effortless beauty woven into the buildings—some of them true monuments.
With every project I start, this country becomes my inspiration in one way or another.
And slowly, over time, I learned how to adapt everything to the style I’m expected to respect—to each client’s exact demands.
“Totul este pregătit,” (EN: Everything is ready.), the receptionist finally announces with a restrained smile. “Ne cerem scuze pentru acest inconvenient şi vă rugăm să acceptați un upgrade în aripa VIP a hotelului nostru.” (EN: We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience and ask you to accept an upgrade to the VIP wing of our hotel.)
At the same time, she hands us two cards that are meant to be used for…
“PIN-ul pentru accesul în camere este trecut pe aceste carduri,” (EN: The room access PIN is written on these cards.), she explains, showing us exactly where the codes are printed, “iar cardurile trebuie introduse în spațiul special creat imediat ce intrați în camere. Îl găsiți pe perete, în partea dreaptă. Odată introduse, acestea activează electricitatea în camerele dumneavoastră și vă permit să utilizați luminile, minibarul și televizorul.” (EN: And the cards must be inserted into the designated slot, immediately after entering the room. It’s located on the wall to your right. Once inserted, they activate the electricity in your suite and allow you to use the lights, minibar, and television.)
Ioana doesn’t seem remotely surprised by the explanation, so I try listening with the same calm expression she has.
“Când cardul este extras din locul lui, electricitatea se oprește automat.” (EN: When the card is removed from the slot, the electricity automatically shuts off.)
“Minunat, mulțumim, (EN: Wonderful, thank you.), my friend replies, attempting to grab both cards.
The receptionist, however, gives her one and carefully extends the other hand toward me.
