On the riverbank, Aaron Faber, holding a towel wrapped in ice, arrived at the spot where Samara had just been, only to find her gone. He looked around—at the slowly flowing moat, the willows planted on both banks—but Samara was nowhere to be seen.
Where did she go? Did she go home by herself? Aaron Faber scratched his head, frowning. So disobedient. Didn't I tell her to wait for me?
Worried, Aaron Faber took out his phone to call Samara. He had always kept her number; she was the first contact in his list.
My angel! That was Aaron Faber's private name for Samara. In his heart, she was an angel, albeit one not yet his.
But that's okay, he mused. The angel will be mine eventually. I just need to wait patiently for her to grow up and become an even more beautiful woman.
Aaron was nervous about calling Samara for the first time. What if she asks how I got her number? he wondered. What should I say?
