Every year, like clockwork, Nathan's family boarded the ferry bound for Calendra Island. It had become a family tradition—well, more like a family strategy. The annual visit to the Council of Elders wasn't just for warm hugs and herbal tea. No, it was a calculated pilgrimage meant to secure blessings, curry favor, and hopefully squeeze a little more luck into their already wealthy lives.
Nathan, by then a teenager with growing shoulders and sharper eyes, understood the game. Everyone wanted something from the elders. Some wanted advice, others wanted influence, but everyone—and he meant everyone—wanted the approval of the Grand Elder.
The Grand Elder wasn't just a figurehead. He was the figure—wise, powerful, and sharper than a tax audit. His word could shift the tides of a family's destiny. A single nod from him could open boardroom doors, seal political deals, and elevate one's surname from "wealthy" to "legendary." Nathan's father had explained it like this: "To be in his favor is to be touched by fate."
And every year, they made sure to be seen. Nathan's mother would bring boxes of fruit preserves and rare wine. His father would wear his finest coat and speak in the most respectful tone his voice could muster. Nathan? He came prepared too—with questions.
Over time, Nathan became more than just the quiet son who tagged along. He was invited to sit with the Grand Elder, to discuss the estate's affairs, to walk through the rose gardens and learn how the family land was managed. There was an unspoken recognition between them—that Nathan was smart, curious, and perhaps, just perhaps, a worthy successor of something.
He was drawn to the Grand Elder's office the most. It was a cozy room that smelled like old paper, incense, and pipe smoke. The walls were covered in family photographs, and Nathan, sharp-eyed as always, noticed one particular thing: the faces of Joseph's daughters were everywhere.
At first, it was subtle. A small frame in the corner—a baby with pigtails smiling at a rose. Then the next year, a toddler grinning in a yellow sundress. Then a little girl holding a trophy. And then another picture. And another. Each visit, more photos were added. Samara, the older one, with her golden glow. Elena, the younger one, with her unreadable, mesmerizing eyes.
The girls were growing into young women—beautiful, elegant, and always doing something worth photographing. Nathan tried not to be jealous. But when your own baby picture is buried in a corner and other people's kids are getting an entire wall? Well, it made a person curious.
So, when Nathan reached his twenties—already managing parts of the family business, dating eligible women, and carrying himself with an air of polished charm—he did what no one else dared.
He hired a private detective.
It wasn't anything dramatic. No trench coat, no magnifying glass. Just a smart, discreet woman named Teresa who specialized in "discreet reputation management." Nathan gave her a simple brief: Find out everything you can about Joseph's daughters. Where they go, what they do, who they meet. I want school records, hobbies, patterns—everything.
Teresa delivered.
He started a file cabinet.
It wasn't creepy—not in his eyes, at least. It was research. Strategic documentation. And as the years passed, the files grew thicker.
Samara, the older daughter, was a star student. Valedictorian in high school, scholarship offers pouring in. She went on to study political science at a prestigious university, took internships in government offices, and joined humanitarian projects in remote islands.
Elena, the younger one—well, she was harder to pin down. Brilliant, but different. She was more artistic, more fluid in her interests. She excelled in music, painting, even philosophy. One report noted she once won a debate championship without raising her voice. Another mentioned she had a knack for showing up in a place and somehow shifting the energy of the entire room.
Nathan would sometimes sit in his office at night after everyone else had gone home. He would open the drawer of his file cabinet, take out the manila folders, and look at their pictures. He'd read their achievements, trace the notes in Teresa's precise handwriting.
There was something about Elena that never left him. Maybe it was the first time he saw her in the rose fields, when she was barely two, and her aura lit up the space like a dream. Or maybe it was just the feeling that she mattered, in a way no one else did.
Of course, life didn't wait for magic.
Eventually, Nathan's parents arranged his marriage. It was all very elegant and pragmatic.
"Maria is from the Vasquez family," his father said over dinner, buttering his bread. "Top of her class. MBA. Her father owns half the shipping yards in Duvano. And," he added with a grin, "she's beautiful."
Nathan didn't argue. He was raised to be agreeable.
He met Maria at a cocktail event two weeks later. She was graceful, intelligent, and indeed stunning. Their conversations were polite. Their engagement photos made the rounds in social media circles with thousands of likes. The wedding was scheduled for the summer.
Everything was perfect.
And yet… the file cabinet remained.
He didn't look at it often. But sometimes, when Maria was away on business trips or when the nights felt too quiet, he would unlock it, sift through the documents, and feel that old sensation in his chest again—that hum in his bones that something important was waiting.
Then, one seemingly ordinary Thursday afternoon, it happened.
Nathan had been invited to speak at a youth leadership summit held at a university in the City of Denara. He stood onstage in a crisp gray suit, giving a practiced talk about innovation, integrity, and strategic growth. The auditorium was filled with students, mentors, and organizers. It was all very routine.
Until he looked toward the back of the room and felt the breath catch in his throat.
She was sitting in the third row from the back. Quiet. Poised. A soft expression on her face. And though nearly fifteen years had passed since he'd seen her in person, he knew it was her.
Elena.
Her hair was longer now, curled gently over her shoulders. She wore a simple blouse, a pen in hand, notebook open. She wasn't trying to get attention. She just… was.
And she still had that aura.
Nathan stumbled over his next sentence. His thoughts, usually razor-sharp, fuzzed like static. He quickly regained his composure, but something had shifted. The rest of the speech, he wasn't thinking about business. He was thinking about the rose fields. About that tiny girl with an impossible glow. About all the years he'd kept her name in a folder like a secret he wasn't supposed to have.
When the event ended, students flooded the stage for pictures and autographs. Elena didn't rush. She stood by the side, casually slipping her notebook into her tote bag.
Nathan moved toward her, heart pounding for reasons he couldn't explain.
Elena looked at him with a smile on her face. When it was her turn to greet Nathan, she shook his hand and congratulated him for his speech. She asked to take a picture with him, and he also took a picture with her using his phone.
Elena and Nathan talked for a bit before parting ways. Nathan was taken away by the event organizers to take more pictures of him on stage. But Nathan couldn't resist looking back at Elena.
Elena did a simple bow toward him and left the auditorium quietly.
Memories kept flooding back to Nathan, and he wished he could talk to Elena longer. The colors of Elena's aura had changed a bit over time, but it was still this great magnificence he has ever seen.
She wasn't just the Grand Elder's favorite.
She was destiny, standing right in front of him. He had a few precious moments with her, but he let it slip away.