I got out of the car and the sight left me speechless. In fact, the words stuck in my throat, and various thoughts swirled in my head.

This was my first time in this neighborhood. I didn't know what I expected, but... it looked almost like another city, or a little town to be precise. The houses were huge and intimidating. Almost the same with one another. Only people from the cream of society had property here.

We had received more than one or two orders from this neighborhood, but only Harry, the young man who did our takeout orders, had come here. But he had never even mentioned what this place looked like. Well, it's not like we asked him, honestly. Ah, anyway!

"And now I see it for myself," I thought, "I can't say I'm impressed in a pleasant way. I feel something painful and unsettling rising in me as I watch this house. And like the others near it and far from it, they all look like models, something from a photo or an interior design magazine. A house is usually associated in my thoughts with a home and a bg family or with a cheerful company of friends who rented it for the holidays. But these houses whisper to me only money, influence, possession. They look as cold as the things they remind me of and a home is the last association I would make with them. Holly will probably describe such a building in pompous architectural terms. She would appreciate what my eyes obviously couldn't see. For me, it's just massive and big and cold. But maybe the people inside will change my mind and make me discover something more than a beautiful facade. But Holly would probably appreciate the expensive furniture that was probably furnished from the inside..."

And my thoughts finally went in the direction they were aiming for. Holly!

"Does she have a house in this neighborhood?" I thought.

She could afford it, with no doubts, but would she really shut herself up, by own will, in such a golden cage.

I didn't dare to look around. Maybe for fear that she might show up from somewhere. Or for fear that if she did appear before me, she might see in my eyes the pain that tightened my chest every time I thought of her.

Pain caused by nothing other than the truth. The truth that I no longer knew my sister. The truth, I knew nothing beyond the well-known about her. The truth, people in the press probably knew her better than I did. And this unpleasant truth hit me with its sobering punch in the chest once more.

And I felt my heart break. Again.

"She can live here, in a golden cage like this, because she doesn't need a home, she needs an image," my mind whispered bitterly, and the heaviness in my chest increased.

Holly. The girl I grew up with and the girl she was now or she was trying to show herself as in front of everyone were two different people, and the image of both clashed in my mind again, irritating the incurable wound of losing my closest person. And left me breathless.

"Ashley! Ashley! Are you okay?" I vaguely heard Oliver's voice and felt his arms around my waist.

"Hold me. Please, hold me so I don't fall," the plea froze on my lips, I just didn't have enough breath to push it through.

But he didn't need me to say it outloud anyway.

Oliver wouldn't let me go. He pulled me closer to his body so to keep me standing despite my weaken legs.

His warmth was really pleasant. Soothing and pleasant. I took a deep breath of his scent - nice, fresh and utterly his, and I realized I was able to breathe again. I inhaled once more and exhaled slowly pulling myself away from him.

"Are you okay? What happened? You almost fainted!" He said anxiously as I took another step away from him.

"I'm fine," my answer came out breathless. I was still trying to regain my normal breathing.

He shook his head, "No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am. Now... let's go," I replied coolly, increased the distance between us and headed for the house.

But Oliver wouldn't let me turn my back on him. His fingers wrapped around one of my arms, turned me to face him and then held me with both of his hands so not to try to escape again. His grip was gentle and firm at the same time.

"Ashley, what's going on?" He asked worriedly.

And not only did I not answer, but I kept my face turned away from his, staring at the frosted grass through my unshed tears and trying at all costs not to look into his eyes. Because I knew that just one look was needed to stop me fighting with the painful emotions inside and to let them burst out. Then I would allow him comfort me until every pain was gone. And I couldn't let that happen. I was too ashamed of the bitterness that arose in me, thinking of my own sister to resign myself to this urge to receive his solace.

"Look at me!" Oliver insisted.

But I couldn't. I couldn't let him see what an awful person I was. Moreover, I couldn't bare to lose him too!

I shook my head vigorously.

"Please!" The words came out of his mouth in such pain that my chest tightened even more.

I finally turned my face to him and stared at his eyes, they were darkened with anxiety and pain. I caused him pain, and that hurt even more than anything else.

"I'm sorry!" I apologized softly, and added, "Don't ask me now, I can't talk now, I'm sorry!"

He frowned, but said nothing.

I took a deep breath before adding, "Now it's not the time. We have work to do. We have to find the ring. Besides, my pain caused us enough troubles, and I won't let it take us away from the goal now that we are so close."

He continued to hold me and silently examine my eyes and face with his eyes, then sighed resignedly and reluctantly let go of my arms. Before I turned my back on him, he cupped my face, approached, and rested his forehead on mine.

"Whatever it is, don't hesitate to tell me. Don't shut yourself in, don't conceal it, just tell me. I'll always listen to you," Oliver said, his voice was heavy with pain and worry.

I nodded slightly.

"Always!" He whispered, and his breath was a warm caress on my lips.

"Okay," I whispered back.

Oliver withdrew just a little, then placed a gentle warm kiss on my forehead before pulling away fully. He took my right hand in his, intertwined his fingers with mine and squeezed me lightly. He smiled at me encouragingly, nodded to the house, and said, "Let's go get that ring!"

An uncertain smile stretched my lips, and we both headed for the house, stopping at the front door.

Oliver rang and we waited.

No one was coming and I started to worry.

He rang again, more insistently, and seconds later an elegantly dressed woman in age opened the door.

She looked at us bored from top to bottom and said, "Oh, here you are. Come in, Mary will explain what you need to do. Ahh! I still have so much work to do, and time is running too fast."

She sighed once more and turned her back on us, disappearing somewhere inside the house.

A moment later, a younger but much more tense woman appeared at the door, clutching a folder tightly to her chest. Her knuckles were white from the grip, and her lips were pressed in a thin line of tension.

"You're late!" She scolded us. "We've been waiting for you for a long time now," the young woman said angrily, turning her back on us and waved with her free hand to follow her.

Oliver and I looked at each other, and from the slight gleam in his eyes, I knew that in both of us hope had risen, hope, that we had finally found the right address.

This distracted me from the painful thoughts and I almost felt joy, because this time we were really going to get the ring!