Clarisse's sister Anabelle loved romance, the sloppy kisses, the clichéd confessions and those grand moments that make your heart swell until it's a big, gooey pile of mush. She squealed over the engagement of Prince William and Kate Middleton, balled her eyes out after watching The Notebook and constantly had a trashy romance novel next to her bed. She wasn't one of those dumb girls who battered their eyelashes in hopes of getting free tickets to the movies from her like, totally hot boyfriend. She hoped one day to a part of one of those famous romantic moments, her solace, chick flicks and a box of chocolate.

Clarisse or Claire as she was known to her sister was seen as the practical one, the quiet, obedient, studious older sister. Publicly, she abhorred the idea of commitment, and openly joked of becoming the old crazy cat lady, and in truth, she wasn't afraid of being alone, she rather liked the idea of solitude. She saw a life of adventure, of travel and discovery, she dreamed of trekking though the Amazon or living in a village in the south of France. And while she took pleasure in all those kinds of "motherly" activities, baking, sewing, and admiring all things beautiful, she knew that her thirst for life couldn't be satisfied by dedicating herself to a family alone. Yet despite her adamant declarations that she was somewhat of a feminist, privately, she sighed a little over those heartfelt kisses and shed a little tear when a bride made her way down the aisle. Her deepest, darkest, most horrible secret though, is that she knew why she was set on being alone, she was afraid of being disappointed by the reality of romance.

While it is tempting to call this story a romance, I hope, reader that you will find this story to be much more. Though there is one thing I forget, I have provided you with the heroines, and given you their motives, but I have been shockingly rude and not set the scene for you, reader, and while I dare not reveal the rest of my plot, nor spoil you with a description of my heroes, (if this is the romantic story I claim it to be, then you should know a lot about them already). But I am carried away, the scene, think of a thoroughly ordinary neighbourhood, in a thoroughly ordinary city, where the weather was nothing special, though it had a habit of changing whimsically and raining a little more than anyone likes, the loveliest morning could change into the dullest afternoon much to the bewilderment of forecasters. Think of a quiet street, and a pretty house, a dog, a big yard with many flowers, a mother, a father, and their two daughters. Think of all the goodness in the world being poured into that little family unit. It was a home filled with warmth, kindness, openness and was a place of reclusion and peace for its members. There was nothing particularly special about this family, perhaps they were a little shorter than average, a little stockier than many, but this family were not rich nor they did not posses super powers like so many protagonists you see today. If you passed them in the street, you would have never suspected them to be the centre of my story. But alas, here we are, and that just so happens to be the way the cookie crumbles.

It was one of those terrible drizzling days with not much else to do except to curl up with a good book, none other than Pride and Prejudice as a matter of fact. It was Clarisse's favourite book even though she fancied herself a bit of a Holly Golightly and told everyone that it was Breakfast at Tiffany's instead. After reading Mr. Darcy's second proposal, she closed the slightly tattered, yellowing pages and permitted herself a little sigh, savouring the moment when her two favourite characters of all time, finally come to their senses and realise that they were meant for each other all along. Her peace however, did not go uninterrupted for long—

'Oh my God Claire, I just read THE most romantic story ever!'

And there went any hopes of a tranquil afternoon.

'You would love it! It's about this totally gorgeous hottie, whose is a complete bad guy. He's in this blood gang or something and he falls in love with this super pretty rich girl. But I didn't like her too much. I know, I know, you hate all my stupid romance novels; you're such a literature snob. Where was I? Right. But get this, they're both super intelligent, and they have like, dark secrets. You have to read it! But, oh! I don't want to give too much away, but I can't help it!'

Anabelle then proceeded to tell Claire every minute detail about the "great romance" that she had uncovered, whether Claire was truly interested remained to be undetermined, while she had every appearance of it smiling, nodding and the occasional remark. However, to Clarissa, Anabelle's story sounded much to like Romeo and Juliet. This in turn made her think about other famous love stories, Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester, Anthony and Cleopatra and then back to Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. A smile played on the corners of her lips and soon it betrayed her lack of attention.

'I wish you would listen for once Claire, I know you don't like all the clichés and everything, but there are some pretty amazing stories out there'

'Indeed there are, Anna. But don't you think that the novel you just finished sounded a tad like Romeo and Juliet?'

'No! It was completely different. I mean they were from different times! I mean, sure both the guys were in gangs, and it was love at first sight…' Anabelle paused and reconsidered, her brow arching as her thoughts slowly changed.

'Oh, I see.'

Clarisse smiled, 'Don't worry, you hated Juliet too.'

'Ugh, you're always right Claire, ever the practical great reader.'

'No, it's just that when you read something like Romeo and Juliet you are ruined for any other kind of romance.'

'Well excuse me for not being a fan of Shakespeare's writing, I don't care how cool he wants to be with his iambic pentameter and his rhyming couplets, damn it! I don't understand, give me an old copy of Cosmo any!'

'You don't even allow yourself the chance, Anna. You give up on Pride and Prejudice after two pages every time I suggest it.'

'All the Mrs. and Mr.'s drive me up the wall. Who "waits" on somebody anyway? It's like something out of Cinderella!'

'You insist upon giving up before even starting! You can't criticise something without having read it first!'

'Agh! Shut up!'

'You know I'm right, and if I told you that story like one of your trashy novels, you would understand why I refuse to read books with little substance to them'

'Well enlighten me! You constantly tell me off for not "expanding my mind". You doubt me, don't you? Well you always want to be challenged, so here's a chance to prove yourself wrong.'

Clarisse was startled a little by her little sister's speech, but nevertheless she was excited by the idea of showing her sister what she was missing,

'Was that a challenge?'

'I believe it was.' Anabelle smiled, she knew her sister was catching on to her idea.

'And what conditions do you wish to set down?'

'You have to tell it to me like it was one of my stories.'

'Impossible! It won't make any sense otherwise!'

'An even greater challenge then, what? Are you chicken?'

'Never! I accept your terms, young sister! Although I have one of my own.'

'Which is?'

'That I save the story for a rainy day, or at least a few, there is so much to tell I might need a few sittings to tell you everything in detail. And in truth, I never seem to have time to do anything unless I'm shut up in the house.'

'That's understandable; I'll save you all my rainy days till you're done'

'So are we really doing this?'

'It sure sounds like it.'

'It's a date.'