At 8 am, Christopher was on foot. Showered and dressed, with the key to the car he had rented in hand, he leaves the hotel and asks the doorman where he can buy flowers. He stops the car in front of the designated florist, buys a bouquet of red roses with tiny white flowers, and, back in the car, drives to the door of the modest hotel where Saphira was staying.
He parks the car and, with a branch in hand, is getting ready to leave when he sees her. Saphira left the hotel, wearing a beautiful, simple white dress that made her look like a village girl capable of making princes who pass by fall in love with her. In her hand she carried a small suitcase.
Christopher's smile widens when he sees her, and his heart jumps in his chest, as if he were a boy in love. She was standing at the hotel d
