"Izzy, you cannot buy those shorts!" Clary exclaimed perhaps a little too loudly as it turned some heads.

"And, why can't I?" Isabelle questioned. Or Izzy. No one in their right mind would ever call her anything but Izzy.

"Because Isabelle," Clary replied, putting extra emphasise on her name as trying to get a rise out of her friend, as if to test her. "You already have them in black."

"But they are so cute in white."

"Aren't you always complaining that you look terrible in white?"

"Yes, but you my milky complexioned friend, would look stunning in them. They might even give you a little colour."

"Izzy, white for me! What are you thinking? Those shorts wouldn't even last two seconds with me as their owner, you know how much of a clutch I am. I am not even safe from myself."

"Just don't wear them when you paint, all the other stuff can come out easily."

Clary thought for a moment. There was no way she was going to win the argument or the others that would likely follow on their scheduled girly day.

"Fine." Clary sighed.

Two hours, fifteen different store and several arguments that lead to several other garments added to purchases later, Izzy finally allowed for the consumption of food.

The grainy round table and chairs of where they choose to sit very quickly was filled of laughter as this small food break also allowed for some girly talk.

"I can't believe that you really did that!" Izzy said breathlessly between her giggle fits.

Clary half-heartedly huffed. "Well we can't all be goddesses like you," She continued with her story, as if to tell Izzy she really wasn't upset. "So anyway, I finally get up the nerve to talk to this gorgeous guy. I walk over and open my mouth to say something but it was like I forgot how to speak. Not even a sound comes from my mouth so I just stood there gasping like a fish. He noticed and said something like "I know that I'm gorgeous but please don't forget how to breathe. Okay so I'll help you remember, ready so in and out." It was the single most mortifying moment of my life."

As Clary finished her story, a fit of giggles erupted form both the girls. These giggles quickly turned into the kind of laughter that causes you to snort though the need for air.

The good mood very suddenly darkened with the buzzing of both the girls' phones simultaneously. Izzy and Clary looked at the messages that they had just received. Once reading the messages the solemn looks far from the smiles that graced their faces moments earlier.

"A family meeting tonight? My mum and dad haven't been in the same room since the divorce. Why all of the sudden now?" Izzy ranted as her face paled with worry of what this meeting could mean.

"Iz, calm down there will be a logical reason for this." Clary tried to ease her best friend.

"Wait, what's wrong with you?" Izzy questioned just now noticing the change in Clary's posture as well.

"Oh, just my mum wanting me home in time for dinner." Clary told in half-truth not wanting to upset her friend further with the knowledge of her scheduled family meeting also.

The friends soon parted, both becoming too preoccupied with the waiting doom of the meeting that rarely if ever took place.

Clary entered the dining room to be greeted by a feast so exotic that it looked like it had come for a magazine cover. Dishes of all varieties lined the table, each looking as mouth-watering as the last. As if to compliment the dinner that has been set before her, her father sits at the head of the table, wearing his sinister grin.

No one else had arrived in the room yet, Clary did the only logical thing that she could think of. She sat down next to her father that had been absent in her life for the past three years. And even before this he never was welcome at the table for a simple family dinner.

Her father's presence alongside the extensive array of food that lined the table caused a feeling of doubt to set over Clary.

As the room began to fill as people shuffled in, her mom, Luke and even Jonathan did nothing to ease the growing tension.

The conversation never made it past the stage of small talk, this dinner could have been amongst strangers rather than a loving for the most part family.

Soon the scraping of knives and forks against the porcelain plates were the only sounds ringing throughout the reasonably sized room. The occupant at the table were interrupted as the doorbell rang.

Isabelle was greeted by her entire family in the foyer to her house. No one ever cooked anymore. Not since their family was torn apart. The simple everyday actions that were once performed were not even close to the minds of this broken, so-called family.

Without allowing Izzy to change the family shuffled through the door that she had just come through, before pilling into the cars waiting outside.

Everybody has heard the saying that you could have heard a pin drop. Well in the car ride to a distention still unknown for Izzy, you really could have. Not a single word was uttered. Not even the radio dared to break the eerie silence that had settled.

The car finally jerked to a stop after what felt like days, but was probably just mere minutes.

Maryse spoke. Breaking the silence that looked like it would never leave.

"Izzy, honey be nice."

"Whatever, Mum." The girl in question answered clearly not interested in her mother's general warning.

There was no response. Nor was there any time for there to be one.

A waitress showed them to a table that already sat half occupied.

The best friends received the same news simultaneously. There mother's using almost the same words in the same comforting tone. Although the words spoken were anything but.

"Clary, your fiancé is here."

"Izzy, your fiancé is here."

These words caused an identical look of shock to cross both faces.