MATHILDA'S POV

February 27, 2017

I would have preferred to stay home today rather than go out for lunch.

Every moment spent near Fredric is exhausting-his coldness, his disdain, the way he looks at me as if my existence itself annoys him. He has never once spoken to me kindly, never even smiled in my direction. Earlier this morning, he said I should "change my appearance" if I ever wanted to be seen as someone worthy-like one of those glamorous supermodels he admires.

How cruel. How unnecessary.

Yet despite his harshness, my heart betrays me.

I *admire* Fredric. I always have. He was my first love.

Since I was a little girl, we've crossed paths so many times-at my father's workplace, in Rosa's garden, at family gatherings-but he never truly noticed me. To him, I was invisible. Just another awkward girl in the background.

And maybe that's exactly what I am.

Who would ever greet a plain, nerdy girl like me? My face has always been covered in freckles, my hair unruly and curly, my body thin and frail. There's nothing striking about me-no glow, no beauty. Just Mathilda, the ordinary daughter of Rosa's chauffeur.

"Mathilda, how have you been, dear? Everything going well?" Mrs. Rosa's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and quickly forced a smile.

"Yes, everything's fine, ma'am."

"Working as a cashier must be tiring, isn't it?" she said warmly. "But honest work is always noble."

Before I could answer, Fredric's low voice cut through the air like a blade. "It's not hard work unless you're running a major corporation. That's where the real headaches begin."

His tone carried that familiar arrogance, the kind that made me shrink inside myself. I could never understand what I had done to make him dislike me so much. As far as I remember, I've always treated him with respect. Perhaps... he can somehow sense that I like him?

"Fredric's been very busy lately," Rosa intervened gently, clearly embarrassed by his rudeness. "He gets stressed easily, but don't take his words too seriously, Mathilda. Every job has its own difficulties. Pressure and responsibility are everywhere."

She smiled kindly at me, but I could sense her disappointment in her grandson's attitude.

My parents stayed quiet, smiling politely. I could tell they were uncomfortable too.

Mother once told me Fredric had always been cold-even as a boy-and a little rebellious. But she also said he carried a heavy loneliness inside him. Losing his parents so young couldn't have been easy.

Still, his distance only makes him more magnetic. That quiet, untouchable aura he has... I can't help being drawn to it. Maybe it's foolish, but loving him, even secretly, makes me feel alive.

Fredric turned toward Rosa again. "Grandma, I don't want to interrupt your lunch, but I have an appointment this afternoon-with Paula. She's waiting for me at her agency for an audition, and I promised to go with her. Can we finish soon?"

The name *Paula* echoed in my mind like an unwanted song.

Paula?

Rosa frowned slightly. "Who's Paula?"

Oh, how I wanted to ask the same thing. I've heard of Fredric's many girlfriends before, but this time... something twisted in my chest. I wanted to know more. Who was this woman who could make him smile, make him eager to leave his grandmother's side?

"I'll introduce her to you later," Fredric said quickly, glancing at his watch. "Can we speed this up, Grandma?"

His voice held a hint of irritation, but there was excitement underneath it-excitement that wasn't for me, of course.

If only it *were* me.

But no, those are foolish dreams-illusions of a girl who means nothing to him.

When Fredric's eyes suddenly shifted to me, I panicked and looked down at my plate, pretending to study the food. My heart raced. He must think I'm staring at him, probably like some pathetic stalker.

Rosa, ever the gracious host, broke the silence. "Goyle, if you don't mind, I'd like to ride back home with you after lunch. Fredric has some urgent business, and I'd rather not trouble the driver."

My father immediately agreed. "Of course, Mrs. Rosa."

Fredric wasted no time. He stood, murmured something that barely qualified as a goodbye, and left without even a glance in my direction. His expression was cold, but his pace quickened as if he couldn't wait to meet that woman-Paula.

I sat there quietly, watching him walk away, my chest tight.

Sometimes I wonder why life feels so unfair.

If I can't have the man I love, can't God at least grant me a little happiness-perhaps just a shred of kindness from him?

---

**Later That Night**

Paula.

That name won't stop echoing in my mind.

I wish I hadn't heard it. I wish it didn't bother me this much. But it does.

Tonight feels like one of the worst nights of my life. It's as though hearing that name carved something deep inside me.

I even tried searching for her online. Nothing came up. No clues. No photos. Just the gnawing thought that somewhere out there, she was laughing beside him.

The clock on my bedside table read **11:00 p.m.** I should have been asleep hours ago-I had work early in the morning. But my mind refused to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Fredric's face, his cold eyes, and that name-Paula.

Then suddenly-

"**Darling!**"

The piercing scream shattered the silence. It came from my parents' room.

"Mama?" I rushed to the door, my heart pounding. "Mama, what happened?"

The scene froze me where I stood. My mother was on the floor, convulsing-her mouth foaming, her eyes rolled back.

"Call the ambulance! Now!" my father shouted, his voice breaking.

My hands shook as I grabbed the phone and dialed emergency services. Tears streamed down my face as I gave them our address, my words tumbling out in panic.

Everything felt unreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

By the time the paramedics arrived, my father was kneeling beside her, his face pale and wet with tears. I stood near the wall, unable to move, unable to breathe.

"Mathilda, come," my father whispered hoarsely, gripping my trembling hand.

We climbed into the ambulance. The siren wailed through the night as the vehicle sped through the empty streets.

I saw Mrs. Rosa through the window as we passed her house. She had come outside, looking worried, her nightgown fluttering in the cold breeze.

"Papa... why did Mama fall?" I asked, barely audible.

"That's what I'm trying to understand," he said, his voice cracking. "She came out of the bathroom, then suddenly collapsed. There was foam at her mouth... I didn't know what to do but scream."

We fell silent after that. The sound of the siren filled the space where words failed.

---

We sat outside the ICU, our bodies tense with fear. Half an hour passed with no news.

I kept gripping my hand so tightly it hurt, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

"Will Mama be all right?" I whispered. I had asked that same question so many times that my father stopped answering. He just sat there, motionless, his face hidden behind his trembling hands.

Then the door opened.

A doctor stepped out, his face grim. My father and I jumped to our feet and rushed toward him.

"How is my wife?" my father asked desperately.

The doctor didn't speak at first. He only shook his head.

My father bolted past him, running into the ICU. I stood frozen, grabbing the doctor's arm, begging for an explanation. "Please... tell me. What happened? I don't understand!"

The doctor sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Your mother passed away. It was a sleeping pill overdose."

His words didn't register at first. My grip loosened. My knees gave way, and I sank to the cold floor.

"What?" I whispered. "No... that can't be true..."

But the look on his face told me everything.

My world-already fragile-shattered completely.

My mother was gone.

Gone without a goodbye, without a reason, without an answer.

And I could do nothing but cry into the silence, asking a God who no longer seemed to listen-

Why her? Why us? Why tonight?

POV of Mathilda

March 1, 2017

Today is the day I hate most in the world.

March 1, 2017 - the most terrible, sorrowful day of my life.

The coffin lowered into the ground feels like a nightmare I can't wake from. My mother is gone. The woman who always stood by me, who defended me when life and people became cruel, has left me forever. There's no longer anyone to shield me when my classmates mock my plain looks or my awkward ways.

Where do I pour all this pain now? Where do I send all these tears that won't stop falling?

My father has locked himself in his room since morning. He refused to come to the funeral, refused even to see her face one last time when the coffin was opened. His grief is something beyond words.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mathilda."

The voice came from behind me - warm and compassionate. Mrs. Rosa wrapped her arms around me tightly. The scent of her perfume mixed with the cold air of the cemetery, grounding me for just a moment.

I nodded weakly and wiped my swollen eyes, though the tears kept flowing without end.

"Thank you, Mrs. Rosa," was all I could whisper. My throat ached. I turned again to face my mother's grave. It felt unreal. My mother, my best friend, the only constant in my life... gone.

"Where is your father?" Mrs. Rosa asked softly.

"He didn't come," I said, my voice trembling. "He's still at home. I tried to persuade him - we all did - but he said he couldn't bear to see her buried. He's too broken."

Mrs. Rosa rested her head gently on my shoulder. I could feel her sadness radiating too. Maybe because she'd known us so long, our grief felt like hers.

"Life is strange, Mrs. Rosa," I murmured, my voice breaking. "I've always longed for affection, for someone to truly protect me, to make me feel safe. But now, she's gone. I was already a girl who didn't fit in - awkward, teased, unwanted. If it weren't for my mother, I wouldn't have survived. Does God really think I'm strong enough to face this cruel world alone?"

As if the sky heard my question, thunder rolled overhead. Dark clouds spread quickly, and raindrops began to fall - soft at first, then heavier, more insistent.

"Come, Mathilda," said Mrs. Rosa, gripping my arm. "We should go home. It's going to rain harder. Look at that wind, look at the sky."

I gently pulled my arm free and shook my head.

"You go ahead, Mrs. Rosa. I'll stay. I want to cry beneath the rain and be alone with her... just a little longer."

Before she could answer, a familiar voice shouted from behind us.

"Grandma!"

I turned. Fredric was running toward us, holding an umbrella.

Mrs. Rosa stepped back as her grandson reached her, his clothes already damp.

"Come on, Grandma! Let's go! Why are you still standing here?" Fredric's voice was sharp, irritated. I ignored them both and turned back to the grave, staring at the freshly piled earth.

For a moment, I thought they had left. But then I felt a sudden grip on my wrist.

"Let go!" I snapped instinctively, pulling my hand free. Anger burned in my chest - not because he touched me, but because he wouldn't let me grieve my own way. Couldn't they understand that I wanted to feel this pain - to *face* it, not escape it?

"You're so stubborn!" Fredric shouted. "It's raining - what more do you want? Standing here won't bring her back! You have to face reality!"

I turned to him, rain soaking both of us. He had given his umbrella to Mrs. Rosa, letting himself get drenched. His hair clung to his forehead, his shirt plastered to his chest - and yet, all I could feel was fury.

"Of course I'll face it, Fredric," I said, my voice shaking. "You don't have to tell me how to handle my own grief. But I want to be here. What's so wrong with that? Go home. Your grandmother's health is more important than forcing me to leave."

He scoffed. "Tch! Do you really think I'm watching over you because I care? Damn it! Grandma, let's go. There's no point trying to reason with this woman."

His words pierced deeper than I wanted to admit. He turned and walked away through the rain, his grandmother following reluctantly after him. Their figures disappeared into the mist.

And I stayed - sitting at the edge of the grave, letting the rain soak through my clothes, the thunder drown my sobs, and the earth beneath me grow dark and heavy with tears.

---

**May 4, 2017**

I ran across Mrs. Rosa's courtyard as fast as my legs could carry me.

Her call had come only fifteen minutes ago - my father had collapsed.

Since my mother's death, he had changed completely. Three months of silence. Three months of refusing food. He rarely spoke, barely slept, and avoided home as if every corner haunted him with her memory.

Truth be told, I was barely any better. My world had gone gray. Even my once-burning admiration for Fredric had faded to ash. Nothing mattered anymore.

But I tried to stay strong - for my father.

The housemaid met me at the gate, pale and anxious. "This way, Miss Mathilda. He's in the guest house."

I hurried to the small cottage at the back of Rosa's estate. When I stepped inside, the sight nearly stopped my heart.

"Dad..."

He was lying on the bed, his face ghostly white.

"Don't come closer."

I froze mid-step. His voice sounded foreign - cold, sharp.

"But Dad-"

"*Don't come closer!*" he barked again, his tone suddenly fierce.

I hesitated, my chest tightening. Mrs. Rosa appeared behind me and quickly pulled me into her arms.

"Come, child," she whispered, leading me outside. I was shaking, my mind spinning.

"What's wrong with him? Why won't he let me near?"

"Mathilda," she said softly, "your father is... deeply depressed. He's traumatized. The loss has broken him completely."

Tears welled in my eyes. "What should I do, Mrs. Rosa? He needs someone with him, someone to take care of him. But how? I don't even know how to help anymore."

"You must be patient," she said, rubbing my back gently. "Your mother's death was his greatest fear. Now he's lost her, and grief has clouded his reason. I'll talk to him slowly, give him time. For now, stay here. Rest."

Before I could answer, a familiar male voice echoed from the front of the courtyard.

"Grandma, where are you?"

Fredric.

I looked up and saw him walking toward us - tall, confident, immaculate as always - with a beautiful woman beside him. I recognized her instantly. Paula. The famous model.

My stomach twisted.

I lowered my gaze, not wanting to look at them.

"Oh, Fredric," said Mrs. Rosa, smiling faintly. "Perfect timing. I actually need a favor."

"What is it?" he asked casually, his hand resting on Paula's waist.

"I need you to take Mathilda home," she said firmly. "Help her pack her things and bring them here. She'll be staying for a while."

I turned to Mrs. Rosa, shaking my head. "No, it's fine, I can-"

Fredric interrupted sharply. "What?! I have plans! I'm taking Paula to lunch. We came here to invite you, Grandma. Why should I waste my time escorting her? She knows where she lives, doesn't she?"

His annoyance was palpable. Paula looked uncomfortable but didn't speak.

"Fredric," Mrs. Rosa said in a tone that could freeze stone, "I said take her home. Are you going to ignore my words now? Don't tell me my grandson has become too proud to help someone in need."

Her eyes darted to Paula, and the model flinched slightly. "Of course not, Mrs. Rosa," Paula stammered.

"Then go," said Rosa.

Fredric sighed heavily, muttered under his breath, and turned on his heel. "Fine. Let's go."

He didn't even look at me.

I turned to Mrs. Rosa, unsure what to say.

She smiled kindly. "Pack your clothes and essentials, dear. Come back soon. You'll feel safer here - and you'll still have to go to work, right?"

I nodded weakly, though my heart was a mess of confusion and sadness.

As I walked toward Fredric's car, I whispered to myself,

*Why does every road I take always lead back to him - even when I wish it didn't?*

FEDRIC'S POV

I have no idea what possessed my grandmother to make me drive this girl around. God, my car has never carried anyone like Mathilda before.

What if her messy red curls shed all over the back seat? What if her clothes smell cheap? What if her backside isn't even clean enough for my luxury leather interior?

The thought alone irritates me.

Thankfully, Paula is sweet and understanding. I really didn't make a mistake choosing her as my girlfriend.

We've been together for almost three months now, and I'm sure she's the one I want to marry. It almost sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, but it's true - I love her deeply.

Paula is the first woman who's ever made me take a relationship seriously. Until she came along, women and beauty were just distractions to me - games to play when I was bored.

But Paula changed that. She made me feel something real. She made me believe that love could be more than a fleeting impulse. Her face is stunning, her heart kind, her manners elegant - everything about her is perfect.

The only problem? My grandmother disapproves. Every time I bring up Paula's name, Rosa's face turns cold, her expression unreadable. She changes the topic as if Paula doesn't exist. I don't understand why.

"Here's fine," Mathilda's voice suddenly said from the back seat.

I slammed the brake a little harder than I should have, startled. We had stopped near a small shop not far from her house.

"Hurry up," I snapped. "My time isn't meant to chauffeur you around. If it weren't for my grandmother, I wouldn't have even let you into my car."

"Fredric," Paula said softly, her tone a warning. "Watch your manners."

"Thank you, Paula," Mathilda replied before I could respond. "I wouldn't have come either if it weren't for Mrs. Rosa."

I turned around sharply, glaring at her. How dare she talk back? The nerve of that girl.

As soon as Mathilda shut the car door, Paula reached out, touching my cheek gently. "Why are you so angry?" she asked, her eyes calm and soft.

"Didn't you hear what she said? She's just a weak girl. She has no right to talk to me like that."

Paula smiled faintly. "You know the kind of person Mathilda is, don't you? She's beneath you. It's not worth it. You and I live in different worlds from hers - surely you understand that."

Her words made me pause. I hadn't expected her to sound so blunt, so sharp. But something about it thrilled me. Paula could be both kind and cruel, and I liked that about her - it reminded me of a rose: beautiful but with thorns.

"Honestly," I said with a grin, "I thought you'd defend her. Turns out I was right about you. People like Mathilda... they take advantage of kindness. I've seen it too many times."

Paula laughed, her red lips curving into that perfect, seductive smile. The way she looked at me made it impossible not to lean in.

Our faces drew closer - just a breath apart - when the back door suddenly opened.

"Oh, sorry," Mathilda muttered, climbing in with a backpack.

Perfect timing.

Paula and I instantly pulled apart. The moment was ruined. My first kiss with her - gone, thanks to Mathilda.

"Let's go, Fredric," Paula said with a small laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

I bit back my frustration, slammed the car into gear, and drove off toward my grandmother's house.

If Mathilda hadn't interrupted us, I would've finally kissed Paula. I haven't even touched her before. That's another reason why I respect her so much - she's not like the shallow women I've dated before. Paula has standards.

I glanced at the rearview mirror. Mathilda was staring out the window, lost in thought, her reflection faint in the glass.

"I don't know what you're planning next," I said coldly, "but you should understand something. You'll never fool my grandmother, Mathilda. Don't even think about taking advantage of her kindness."

"Fredric," Paula said softly. "Why say that to her? I'm sure Mathilda isn't that kind of person. Even if she's not on our level, there's no need to be cruel."

Paula looked at me with that charming smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. We were in sync - perfectly aligned in thought and tone. She understood me better than anyone.

Still, I meant every word. I've always had a feeling about Mathilda - that quiet, poor girls like her might act innocent but secretly crave opportunity. They might use sympathy to get what they want.

It's better to warn her now than regret it later.

"Fredric, look," Paula whispered, chuckling. "You've made her cry."

I turned around slightly. Mathilda was wiping her eyes, silent, her shoulders trembling.

I sighed. "Save your tears, Mathilda. I just want you to understand your place. My grandmother may be kind, but I'm not a fool. Don't try anything. Got it? Stay for a day if you have to, but don't overstep."

She didn't move or answer. She just sat there, quiet and still.

Pathetic.

For a second, I almost expected her to argue - to shout or defend herself. But she didn't. She just kept silent, and somehow, that silence irritated me even more.

Weak people like her don't fight back. They just crumble.

---

"Mathilda, why are you crying?"

The question made me flinch slightly. Grandma's voice was sharp, suspicious.

"I'm not crying," Mathilda said quickly, forcing a smile. "Some dust got in my eye. I'm fine. Anyway, Mrs. Rosa, I should get back to work. I'll return later. I left my father alone at home."

She was good at hiding things.

I exhaled, relieved. "Well, Grandma," I said, "can we go to lunch now? I'm starving."

Mathilda walked past me, glancing sideways. Her look lingered for a second - hard to read - then she turned and left. I gave her a cold, mocking stare in return.

"Mathilda, wait," Rosa called out. "After work, stay where you are. Fredric and I will pick you up."

I frowned instantly. "What? Pick her up for what, Grandma?"

Rosa smiled slyly. "I thought we could go out together this evening - just the three of us."

"Three of us?" I repeated. "As in... you, me, and *her*?"

"Exactly. And Paula's not coming," she said simply.

Mathilda looked surprised but didn't speak. She just nodded politely, muttered something, and hurried away.

I turned back to Grandma. "Why are you making such a ridiculous plan? Paula and I-"

"Enough, Fredric," she interrupted. "No arguments. My decision stands. You're coming with us. Without Paula."

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "This is insane."

Rosa ignored me completely and started walking ahead. Paula gently rubbed my back, but even her touch couldn't calm the irritation boiling inside me.

I wanted to scream.

Everything was perfect - the day, the mood, my time with Paula - until Mathilda ruined it.

Now I was stuck in the middle of some absurd plan I didn't understand, my first kiss stolen, my temper flaring, and my grandmother's stubbornness making everything worse.

I clenched the steering wheel once more before stepping out of the car.

*This is madness,* I thought bitterly. *Mathilda has ruined everything.*