"Letting go means to realize that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny." - Steve Maraboli

Stefan's POV

I was surprised that I could talk so much, that too, with a complete stranger, just a teenage girl. I usually avoided talking and immersed myself in work. Inheriting my dad's multinational chain of hotels and resorts at a young age after completing an MBA from Harvard, I worked very hard to make Springwell Club and Resorts a billion-dollar worth success story. Although we three brothers shared the responsibilities amongst us, my life was a complicated mess. Apart from my family and a handful of close friends, I avoided interacting too much with others apart from work.
Annabelle brought out a side of me I had kept hidden for a long time. Her big innocent green eyes twinkled and shone, mesmerizing my soul while her long soft brown hair cascading down to her waist made me want to run my fingers through them. Her soft creamy skin and pink plump lips had me craving to taste their sweetness. I couldn't understand the new feelings within me. I wanted to be near her, see her, and feel her softness in my arms all the time. It worried me since I never had such strange feelings for anyone yet. Sure, I had my quota of one-night stands and plenty of dates with the opposite s*x, during my college days, but not anymore. I had grown out of that phase.
I had difficulty controlling myself when near her, but I knew deep in my heart that she could never be mine. I didn't want to complicate matters by developing feelings for her. She was too young for me, too innocent, and I needed to keep my distance from her.
But as the days went by, laughing, interacting, and knowing her, my resolution to keep my distance from her crumbled to dust and I felt more and more attracted to her soul, her beauty, and her personality,
Like a moth to a flame.
Like an alcoholic to the liquor
Like a bee to its honey,
Like the planets around the sun.
She was my sun.
Even Duke warmed up to her and followed us around, taking in our conversation and interacting the best way he could. Annabelle was more comfortable with him now. A week went by and it was the day that I needed to take gran to her orthopedic surgeon. The tests were done two months back when I visited gran. I had to go away on an important business meeting in Paris and returned directly here to consult my gran's doctor with the test reports.
I updated Annabelle about gran's condition. She wanted to accompany us to the doctor. Gran's orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Timothy Smith, checked her reports and informed us that gran was suffering from acute osteoarthritis. She needed ongoing treatment, physiotherapy, and a 24-hour nurse to take care of her day-to-day needs as she lived alone. Her bones were weak and a specialized diet was prescribed. Annabelle understood every detail so that she could guide gran's caregiver. We also found an excellent nurse, Ellie Stewart, a thirty-eight-year-old loving and caring widow, who had no family. She instantly took a liking to gran and Annabelle and started working for us. Having settled everything, it was time for me and Duke to return to New York, but because of Annabelle, I didn't want to leave.
After a hectic day full of conference calls with Tristan, my brother, and two important clients, I was left with a splitting headache. After dinner, I went to the terrace with a bottle of whiskey to relax and think about my life and the mess that I was in. On reaching there, I saw Annabelle on her swing, her favorite place in the world.
"Can't sleep?" I asked her, looking into her sad eyes. Her mesmerizing green eyes shone in the moonlight, her pale creamy complexion was brighter than the twinkling stars and her rich dark brown wavy hair smelled of strawberry and vanilla. She kept biting her plump pink lips, deep in thought. I wanted to kiss her and taste her sweetness and forget all the problems of my life.
She didn't respond. "Rosy, what's wrong?" I asked softly, my eyes not leaving her face. I glanced down at her lips. She had stopped biting them, but they still looked luscious and plump.
She looked at me. "What did you call me?" 
"Rosy," I whispered.
"Why Rosy?" she whispered back.
"Because your face has a rosy hue," I answered as I leaned toward her. Her breath hitched, she blushed crimson and her eyes dilated with anticipation. I looked at her lips and leaned in more till my lips touched her forehead in a lingering kiss. I wanted to kiss her lips, but she was just seventeen and I didn't want to corrupt her innocence.
"Tell me what's bothering you?" I asked again, and she looked at me.
"Today's my mom's birthday. I was thinking about how my life would have been, had she been alive," she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. I wiped it away tenderly and pulled her into my arms and crushed her to my chest. She sobbed, and her arms wrapped around my torso. I dipped my head on her shoulders and smelled her hair and neck. I knew that if anything could be called blissful, it was this moment. 
"Let's bake her favorite cake then and share it with everyone?" I suggested.
"Would you help me with it?" she asked hesitantly.
"Why not? Let's go," I agreed. She nodded and smiled. I had to release her, but missed her embrace immediately. A deep involuntary sigh escaped my lips, realizing that she fitted me perfectly as if she'd been made just for me. My mind strangely remembered her theory of love and destiny. I blinked them away and held out my hand for her to take. She complied, and we went downstairs to the kitchen to bake Rosy's mom's favorite cake. I felt happy when she started enjoying our time together.
"I never met her, but Pops told me all about her. Like me, she loved dancing. She was a professional dancer but after marrying my dad, she had to forget her passion for dance. Dad never appreciated or approved," she reminisced.
"You can keep her dream alive. She's always watching and blessing you. I'm sure she would have been proud of you," I encouraged.
We came to know so much about each other; In the next few days, we took care of gran together and cooked for each other. Rosy was a wonderful cook and I could worship her hands after every meal.
"How did you learn to cook so well? You have magic in your hands," I told her sincerely, meaning every word.
"Our old housekeeper, Maria, taught me. It's stress-busting for me. It helps me relax," she confided with a grin.