[Page 3: The most beautiful sight I have ever seen was the day I met you for the first time.]

For the past few days, the sky has been constantly grey with rain. Families had taken to sitting around the fireplace, nursing mugs of hot beverages, and hoarding comfortable blankets to make a warm nest for themselves and their loved ones in the living room.

And while she would always love spending time with her family, Marta Montmer, two months shy of fourteen, couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the dark clouds.

“The sun is out! The sun is out!” Marta’s two youngest siblings, Agnes and Thomas, both six years of age and twice as much of a menace as any of the Montmer children have ever been at their age, sang as they jumped up and down, trying to get a better view of the outside.

“Alright now, settle down. Being too excited would not convince Mom to let you all outside,” Emma, second eldest of the Montmer children, chided her siblings with her signature kind but firm voice that always made the twins obedient faster than their own mother sometimes. Marta still doesn’t know how she even does it.

“That includes you, as well,” Emma’s finger then pointed at Marta, making the younger one indignant. “Hey! Don’t include me with the kids!”

“I know you,” the elder sister replied, one corner of her lips ticked up, “I can practically see you vibrating in your shoes.” Marta stuck her tongue out at her, but it only made Emma laugh.

It didn’t take the twins long to pull their mother towards the door, each step making them even more excited. “Alright, alright, stay still for a moment.” Mrs. Montmer always prided herself on being collected and prim in the eyes of the public. But even she could not entirely rein in two hyperactive bundles. Nevertheless, she tries her best. “Remember the golden rules, you two?”

“Don’t run across roads!” Agnes cried in a delighted voice, her arm raised in attention.

“Don’t jump in the water! ” Thomas quickly copied his sister.

“Don’t talk to strangers!”

“Don’t accept frozen desserts from strangers! Even if they looked delicious!”

“I’m not sure the last sentence is part of the original rule,” Marta whispered to Emma, the two sharing a quiet laugh.

“Close enough, but you forgot the most important of the rules.” Mrs. Montmer held up a finger, “That is, you must always remember your manners and be polite. Don’t go picking fights with other kids, especially when I or your sisters are not around. Is that clear?”

“Yes!” the two chorused, nodding and looking quite serious. Their mother only shook her head, fondness evident on her face. She urged the twins to change into proper clothes, and the two older sisters took that as their cue, as well. Marta secured her hair with a hat and grabbed a coat to fight off the nippy air. She turned back around in a hurry when she almost forgot to take her leather bag from her table.

Their pace was unhurried as they enjoyed the warm sun after being cooped up in the house for days. Mrs. Montmer gripped the twins in each hand firmly, managing to not let herself be dragged around as the two youngest ones took in every sight in delight. Marta's spirits also feel lighter; the world looks like it is brimming with life and colors, the rain bringing them the water needed for them to flourish. Marta’s hand itches, wanting to capture the scenes around her.

The family soon arrived at the park, which was filled with more people than they expected. It seems that everyone’s taking this chance to enjoy the sun after all that rain. There was a lake at the center of the park, where they could see a few younger kids playing by the banks. Little Agnes and Thomas lost no time pulling their mother to join in the fun.

“I’ll walk around some more. I’ll find you guys later,” Marta waved as she started walking near the edge of the park. Their mother looked like she might oppose, but Emma waved her off before Mrs. Montmer could get a word in. "Take care!" she heard her sister call as she moved towards a more shaded area.

The weather really was too perfect. She sat on a bench shaded by large flowering trees, their little yellow petals falling to the ground like snow as the wind rustled their leaves. It was the perfect foreground Marta could ever ask for.

She quickly grabbed everything she needed from her bag: a stiff board with a paper clip, blank sheets, and her pencils. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let the air out through her mouth before opening her eyes. With her board and paper on her lap, she started sketching.

Lines followed each other and the stroke of her pencil, quickly taking shape of the view in front of her: the tranquil waters of the lake, the people mingling and enjoying each other’s presence. Without stopping, her left hand reached down for her sets of colored chalks, and slowly the art in her hands came to life. Marta’s shoulders slowly loosened even more, her gaze so focused that she never realized how the wind picked up, making more petals rain down on her. A strong gust of wind blew her hat off her head, her dark curls tumbling down her shoulders.

“Oh!” Marta cried, her focus shattered as her hair covered her eyes. She blew some strands off her mouth and quickly turned around, seeing her hat caught in the wind. As she was about to run after it, a hand reached up to catch the wayward item.

“Oh, thank you,” Marta called. As she moved closer, she felt something in her shift, almost unnoticed. Her hat was in the possession of a young man, tall and a little lanky , wearing a long black jacket that made him look taller still, and a hat of his own. Marta barely reached his shoulders. With a charming smile that made Marta’s cheeks warm, he offered the hat back to her, “I believe it’s yours, miss?”

“Yes, thank you. I thought I’d have to chase it down the street with all this hair in my eyes.”

The young man laughed, and Marta felt her heart and stomach doing something funny. Has she eaten something bad during lunch earlier? And did the weather become hotter for some reason? Unconsciously, her brows furrowed slightly.

“Apologies,” the young man--as he looked to be very close to her age-- said. “I don’t mean to be bold. It’s only… you look beautiful with your hair down”

Marta was quite sure her face was already obviously red by this point. “Quite a charmer with your words, you are,” she said, though it was said without heat, despite the feeling of embarrassment.

She tried to sneak a look at him: dark eyes, sun-touched face, a square jaw. His jacket, though well-kept, had the faint wear of long use. Among the prim crowd in bright clothes, he stood out—like the central figure in a painting.

When she noticed the shadow of a smirk on the young man’s face, Marta turned her eyes to the side, conscious of being found out. A second later, however, the smirk turned into a smile.

“Hardly,” the man said with a shake of his head. “I’m just telling the truth as I see it. You, my lady, are a breathtaking beauty.”

The words echoed with such sincerity that Marta felt herself getting warm. For a moment, it was as if time stood still. A reciprocating smile bloomed unconsciously on her own lips. “Thank you.” The two of them were locked in each other’s gazes, rooted in their spots until Marta heard the familiar voices of her little siblings.

“Marta! We’re getting snacks!” Agnes called as she ran in her direction, with their mother holding onto Thomas and Emma following close behind her.

“I. . . have to go,” Marta said, startled as a hint of disappointment bubbled from the pit of her stomach. It is not every day that one could meet such pleasant company. “Thank you again for your help, Mr. . .”

“Benedict,” the man quickly offered. “Benedict Dean Clarke.”

“Mr. Clarke. My name’s—”

“Miss Marta. Correct?” The man, Benedict, took off his hat and offered a bow. “It is a pleasure to meet and talk to you. May our paths cross again in the near future.”

“Likewise.” Marta quickly returned to her bench to pack her things. She met her family halfway and was quickly grabbed by Agnes while babbling about ice cream. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Emma looking at her curiously, but she kept herself facing forward, still feeling the warmth on her cheeks.

Unbeknownst to her, the young man was still standing in his spot. His eyes followed the family as they crossed the street. He was smiling more freely now, with a hint of awe in his gaze and tone.

“Miss Marta,” Benedict whispered, his hat still on his chest. “I pray fate would cross our paths again.”