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.*

MATHILDA'S POV

Being trapped in the car with Fredric's cynical stare drilling into me made it hard to breathe. The tension was suffocating, and my thoughts wouldn't stop circling around my father's pale face and fragile condition. Why do my twenties have to be so miserable? Why does every chapter of my life seem to hurt more than the last?

"Are you all right, Mathilda?"

Only one thing soothed me-the warmth in Mrs. Rosa's voice, her motherly tone that never failed to calm the chaos inside me.

"I don't know, Mrs. Rosa," I murmured softly. "I'm still thinking about my father..."

"Crybaby," Fredric muttered from the front seat, rolling his eyes.

Oh, how I wished I could throw something at him-anything. His voice alone made me feel worse. Couldn't he show even the smallest bit of empathy?

"Fredric, mind your manners," Mrs. Rosa scolded him sharply before turning back to me. "You'll stay in the main house tonight, dear. Leave your father with the nurses on duty. He'll get the best care possible-I'll make sure of it."

Her words broke me. Tears streamed down my cheeks before I could stop them. It had only been two months since Mother's funeral, and now Father's health was failing fast. I couldn't bear it. Why did everything have to fall apart so quickly?

"Calm down, Mathilda," Mrs. Rosa said, taking my trembling hand. "Everything will be fine. I'll make sure your father receives proper treatment. He's in good hands. Our family doctor is already managing his care. Be strong, my dear."

Her touch brought a lump to my throat. It reminded me so much of my mother's gentle hands, of nights when she used to hold me through my tears. If only she were still here-none of this would be so unbearable.

"Stop crying now," Fredric said mockingly. "We'll be there soon, and your face is already a mess. You've got tears and a red nose-seriously, you look-Ow!"

The sharp smack that followed made me blink. Mrs. Rosa had slapped him right across the mouth. I didn't know whether to laugh or stay quiet, but deep inside, I felt oddly satisfied. She'd done what I'd wanted to do all along.

---

Dinner that evening was laid out like a royal feast. The table was covered with silver trays of food, delicate dishes, and glasses that shimmered under the warm lights. Everything looked beautiful-and completely tasteless to me.

My appetite had vanished. All I wanted was to go home and check on Father.

"Eat something, dear," Mrs. Rosa urged, smiling warmly. "Don't make me worry about two people. Trust me, your father will get better soon."

Her eyes were full of affection, so full it almost made me ache. I didn't want to disappoint her. So I nodded, picked up my fork, and took a small bite of the pasta before me.

"Grandma, what exactly do you want to talk about?" Fredric asked suddenly, glancing between us.

Yes. That was what I'd been wondering too. Why had she invited the three of us for such a formal dinner?

"Let's talk after we eat," Mrs. Rosa replied calmly. "Just enjoy your meal first."

Fredric sighed loudly. "Why? We're not the kind of family that sits in silence during dinner, right? Or maybe *your* family is like that, Mathilda?"

The way he said it-mocking, deliberate-made my heart sink. I swallowed hard, feeling a flush creep up my neck. The man I once admired was showing his true nature. How could I have ever thought there was kindness in him?

"I think Mr. Fredric is right, Mrs. Rosa," I said softly, forcing myself to speak. "You can tell us now."

Mrs. Rosa smiled-a wide, almost glowing smile. For a moment, I thought she might have good news about my father or her company. I had no idea that her next words would change my entire life.

"Very well," she said, setting her napkin down. She took a sip of wine and looked between us with eyes that sparkled with satisfaction.

"Go on, Grandma," Fredric said, smirking. "Don't keep us guessing with that mysterious smile."

"I want you two to get married."

My heart stopped.

For a second, the entire restaurant fell silent. I wasn't even sure I was breathing.

Fredric and I spoke at the exact same time-our voices overlapping in pure disbelief.

"WHAT?!"

"Lower your voices," she hissed quietly. "People are staring. That's why I wanted to talk after dinner."

Fredric stood up abruptly, shaking his head as if trying to erase her words from existence. "I don't know what you're thinking, Grandma, but I'm not part of this joke. I'll wait for you in the car."

And just like that, he walked out, leaving me frozen in my seat.

Mrs. Rosa, however, remained perfectly calm, smiling at me as though everything were completely normal.

"Mathilda," she said gently, "come here, dear."

My body refused to move, but my heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to understand. I needed to hear her explain this madness.

"First, I apologize for Fredric's behavior," she said once I finally scooted my chair closer. "He can be rude and cynical, but I'll talk to him. As you've just heard, I want you to marry him."

I stared at her, speechless.

Marry Fredric?

No. That couldn't be real.

Mrs. Rosa's expression was glowing, as though she were announcing something joyful, not something absurd. I admired Fredric once, yes-but that was years ago, before I knew what kind of person he really was. To marry him now would be torture.

"While you were at work," she continued, "I spoke to your father. Please don't think I'm taking advantage of his condition. I'm not. But I'm getting old, Mathilda. I want to see Fredric settle down-with someone I trust, someone I admire. And that person is you."

Her words stunned me into silence.

She reached across the table, clasping my hands tightly.

"Fredric's behavior is the result of his upbringing," she said with a weary sigh. "His father was... difficult. A selfish man who only chased after women. I'm afraid Fredric might repeat that mistake if I don't intervene. I won't allow him to marry someone who only wants his money. Paula isn't right for him. But you, Mathilda-you're sincere. You're good. Your family has been loyal to mine for decades."

My lips trembled. "Mrs. Rosa... there's no love between us. Mr. Fredric loves his girlfriend."

Her smile softened, but she shook her head. "Love can grow in time, dear. Fredric will come to appreciate you. He was just shocked, that's all. I'll talk to him once we get home."

I felt my heart sink.

It was useless to argue.

Fredric would never love me. To him, I wasn't even beautiful-I was a burden, an obligation, a symbol of everything he despised.

Mrs. Rosa patted my hand again. "Let's finish dinner," she said kindly. "We'll discuss this later. I hope you'll accept Fredric as your husband, Mathilda. Even if it takes time, I'll wait for your answer. You're the only one who can change him-who can stop him from chasing meaningless women and finally become a man."

I stared at her, the fork still in my hand, my food untouched.

She began eating again as if she hadn't just rearranged my entire future with a single sentence.

Meanwhile, I sat there in stunned silence, my thoughts spinning out of control.

*Marry Fredric?*

The same Fredric who mocked me, who hated being near me, who barely treated me like a person?

I couldn't do it.

But then... how could I refuse the woman who had done so much for our family?

I looked down at my trembling hands and whispered silently, *Mom, what should I do now?*

Because whatever I chose next would change my life forever.