A/N: Yay! Three reviews! And lotsa favorites!
But seriously, guys, while I'm flattered that you would put me on your 'Favorites' list, I also need some reviews. It's what makes you a better writer, yes? Criticism helps me to build upon my strong points. So, please, review my stories instead of just favoriting. Cheers!

6:00 AM, Paris

The raven-haired woman was, by default, an early riser. At six in the morning, most of Paris would still be asleep under the coat of darkness.
Not this designer.
She loved to sit on her balcony and watch the slowly awakening streets and shops as the sun rose, banishing the darkness and spreading the light of a new day. Her little tradition had started when she first came to Paris after the incident. She'd been so homesick it hurt. Somehow, she managed to wake up one morning at five-thirty, just like she had in Danville. Out of habit, she'd strolled to the nearest window before remembering-duh!-she had a balcony. Ever since, she'd had this ritual, and had kept it up every morning for nearly five years.
She woke up as she always did, opening her blue eyes and greeting the darkness. She sat up and stretched before finally standing up. Parisian summers were cool, not overly hot, but still fairly warm. She slipped on her robe and padded softly into the kitchen. She quickly fixed herself a cup of tea before hurrying towards the balcony.
Just in time! she thought as she sat down on one of the chairs. She watched as the sun slowly stretched its way up the strengthening sky in mild orange, cheerful yellow, and soothing pink, turning the few clouds the same colors.
She could've sworn that, by now, the sun had turned and spotted her, and given her a cheery wink and waved in greeting.
Hello, Isabella!
The rational side of her brain scolded her. Stop that nonsense! You're a grown woman with a job, you can't go around saying the sun waved good morning to you!
But the side of her brain which still believed in fairy tales, the side which still believed in happily ever after even after him, begged, Please. Let me revel in my fantasy just for these few moments before I get shoved back into reality.
She took a sip of her tea, watching the streets carefully. As soon as the first few shops opened up, she'd go back and get ready. Usually, the flower shop right across the street was the first to open…yes! There it was, the subtle switching of the closed sign to the open one.
Isabella stood up, still sipping her tea, and made her way to the kitchen for breakfast. What she saw made her start laughing instantaneously.
A raven-haired woman was at the stove, wearing an over-sized T-shirt and pajama pants. Her long hair was slightly curly from sleep and had been hastily pulled into a high ponytail. She was making pancakes-or, at least, attempting to.
Isabella laughed so hard she started crying. "Alex!" she managed to gasp. "What do you think you're doing?"
The other woman turned around. The two were identical, including the pajamas, except for the eyes. Alex's blue eyes were cloudy, blank and staring. She spoke.
"Uhh, making breakfast?" she attempted.
Isabella laughed again. "A for effort," she grinned. "But why don't you let me take over?"
Alex nodded sheepishly and carefully stepped away from the stove. Isabella took her place.
"Why are you up so early?" she asked, saving a pancake from destruction, flipping it expertly.
Alex didn't turn her head from where she was trying to find the orange juice. "I dunno," she shrugged. "I just…woke up." she chuckled. "Listen to how lame that sounded! And I'm supposed to be a writer?"
Isabella chuckled and quickly grabbed a plate, sliding the golden pancake on it. She covered the plate with another, so as to keep the heat in. "You are a writer, Alex," she said, pouring the batter for another pancake. "One of the best, if not the best."
Alex flapped a hand at her twin. "Don't!" she cried. "I don't measure up to half of them! J.K. Rowling! C.S. Lewis! J.R.R. Tolkien! Don't tell me I'm as good as them!"
Isabella shrugged, then felt foolish, remembering her sister couldn't see it.
The phone rang.
"Got it!" Alex called, feeling her way over to the phone and taking it from its cradle. "Hello?"
Isabella tried not to listen, but it was hard.
"No, this is Alexandra. Isabella's a bit busy now, but I can-uh, huh. Yeah. Mm-hmmm. Yes, that's why most people call us."
Isabella cringed at her sister's brusque sense of humor, if one could call it that.
Alex paused. "You do realize we're just sitting down for breakfast, right?"
Isabella groaned. She slid the last pancake on the plate and turned off the stove.
"Give me that!" she cried, snatching the phone out of her sister's hand. Alex stuck her tongue out at her twin-a childish gesture that sent memories of Danville flooding back into Isabella's mind. She quickly banished them and concentrated on the person on the other end.
"Hello?" Isabella asked. "Sorry about my sister. This is Isabella Garcia-Shapiro. How can I help you?"
"Hello, Ms. Garcia-Shapiro." the voice on the other end gave her an image of a strong, tall man. His tenor voice had a bit of nervousness to it. "This is-" he cleared his throat. "Phineas Flynn."
Isabella sank to the floor, her knees bent in front of her chest, her hair riding up the wall, the phone clutched tightly in her hand.
Oh, gods, anyone but him…

A/N: I am really liking this story! I hope you guys like it too.
Well, things are getting a little more complicated now. Review and see what the third chapter says!