The following day, Myra didn't leave her room. She said she wasn't feeling well and didn't want to be disturbed by our mother while resting. Minerva, meanwhile, was picked up by her friends to go to the palace, while my stepmother was busy preparing to go somewhere she claimed was important. She wore a white dress layered with a shawl made of sheepskin, topped with a black hat trimmed with lace.
I knew that outfit well—it was one of the many I regularly washed. Sometimes, I'd even try them on when no one was around. Maybe it was because I envied her, how she could wear beautiful clothes like those while I couldn't.
"Do you have any plans later?" she asked while putting on her heeled boots.
"I do. . ."
"Don't go. I want you to take care of Myra until she gets better."
"But. . ."
"I don't care how important your plans are, Rowela. What I want is for you to watch over my daughter until she recovers." She spritzed on her strong perfume and slung her expensive bag over her arm.
"As you wish. . . Mother."
She stared at me as she slipped on her white gloves and slid a ring onto her middle finger—the very same design as the ruby ring I had pawned not long ago.
"I have something important to attend to. If anyone asks, tell them I'll be home late," she said, tilting her head slightly to admire the ruby ring.
It looked exactly like the one I had pawned—same setting, same ruby. I couldn't help but wonder how she got it. Did she buy it from the pawnshop? Or could it just be a coincidence?
I couldn't say for sure, but something didn't sit right with me. I needed to keep an eye on her.
An hour later, I decided to go to the market to buy medicine and some fruit for Myra. I treated her like a sister. We weren't that close, but she'd always been kind to me. I still remember when she was the only one who remembered my eighteenth birthday. That night, I was quietly reading when she entered my room carrying a cake and a book as a gift—she knew I loved reading. It was the first time someone made me feel like I had a real family, and I will forever be grateful to her for that.
At the market, I stood torn between red and green apples. I forgot to ask Myra what kind she preferred, and now I couldn't decide.
"Are you buying that or not?" the vendor snapped, her brows furrowed.
"H-How much for both?"
"One hundred. Final price."
I quietly scoffed but grabbed a bag of apples and paid.
After buying the medicine, I was about to head home when I caught a glimpse of a familiar sheepskin coat heading toward the entertainment district. I immediately followed, wanting to confirm if it really was my stepmother.
I pulled my hood over my head and walked with my head down. She took a seat across from an older man. When I got a closer look at his face, goosebumps ran up my arms—it was one of my clients. A thousand questions ran through my head. What exactly was their connection?
Vincent, the barista, widened his eyes when he saw me sneak in. He glanced at my stepmother and sighed. He knew both my client and my stepmother.
"Juice," I whispered.
He took his time preparing it, aware of my true intention—to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"My daughter is looking for a suitor," my stepmother began. "Her name is Minerva. She's beautiful, sweet, and intelligent. You won't regret marrying her, Mr. Sebastino."
The older man looked serious, not at all pleased.
"I'm not sure I can accept that offer. I'm already in love with someone."
"Is it Rosa?" If I'd been drinking, I might have choked on the spot.
The man didn't respond, and my stepmother went on, casually swirling her tequila glass.
"Rosa's name is known by many men. She's popular here in Zenon. Rich, with many admirers. Look here—isn't this the ring you gave her?" she said mockingly, showing him the ruby ring.
My heart raced. I didn't even notice Vincent setting my drink down. Sweat dripped from my forehead as panic settled in.
"That's…"
"Yes, it's your gift to her," she said with a wicked smile, caressing the ring.
"How did you…?"
"How did I get it? Simple. The daughter of my friend works at a pawn shop. A woman came in one day with ten pieces of jewelry and said her name was Rosa. She even invited the girl out to eat. The girl was so excited she told her mother, and the rest, as they say…" She trailed off. I shut my eyes tightly.
"That's how I found out and decided to retrieve the ring myself." I never imagined she could be this cunning—maybe even more than I'd given her credit for.
"Impossible! Rosa is wealthy and comes from a noble family!" the man shouted, nearly breaking the glass on the table as he slammed his fists down.
"Believe what you want. I'm only telling you the truth."
I downed my drink in one gulp. Vincent could see the fear on my face. I signaled for another, needing something to calm my nerves.
"If that's true, I'll send my men to find Rosa and get to the bottom of this!"
"Good. I agree," she said with a laugh before sipping her drink.
Panic crept in again. If they found out I was Rosa, it was over for me. I left money on the counter and slipped out of the lounge, trembling. My legs barely carried me as thoughts swirled in my mind.
I'd thrown away the blonde wig I used that night, and my real hair was black, so they likely wouldn't recognize me. The clothes I wore belonged to Minerva, but that shouldn't raise too many suspicions, right?
My makeup that night made me look like I was in my thirties, even though I usually passed for sixteen. Surely, I was safe… right?
"Move!"
"Huh?"
I couldn't tell who shouted until I bumped into a firm chest. My bags fell, and I clutched his shirt to steady myself.
His coat was made of deep blue leather, with a badge on the sleeve. When I looked up, my heart skipped. It was him—the man from the newspaper. He was even more handsome in person. I was so stunned I didn't realize the guards had pulled me away from him.
He lowered his head slightly to meet my eyes but said nothing, showing no anger.
"Watch it next time, girl. Of all people to bump into, it had to be the commander," the guard warned me.
I walked away dazed, heart still pounding. They say time stands still in moments like that—and I believed it.
I smiled all the way home, dropped the fruit and medicine on Myra's table, and was about to leave when she called out.
"Are you okay? You look dazed."
"Just tired," I replied, my mind still reeling.
In my room, I couldn't stop thinking about him—his face, his calm expression. I shook my head and tried to erase the memory, but it lingered.
Now that I've seen him in person, I want to meet him again… talk to him… maybe even become his friend. I took out the old newspaper clipping and stared at his face once more.
Would I ever have a chance with someone like him… if fate allowed us to meet again?