Chapter One

I am no longer certain what is worse these days. It's either the constant scolding from that wretched boss of mine, who seems to derive immense pleasure from turning my work life into a living nightmare. Every single day, he never fails to display his disdain for the tasks he should be handling, but instead dumps them on me as if they were my responsibility. Meanwhile, he gallivants around, groping and harassing various female employees of the company. It's utterly infuriating. Or perhaps my present predicament, I find myself stranded indefinitely in front of the company building, anxiously awaiting a taxi that may or may not arrive. The uncertainty of the situation only adds to my frustration.

I can't believe how this misfortune continues to accumulate. How much more unlucky can one person be? It seems that right from the moment I was born, I was already marked with this wretched curse.Moving my hair aside my massive "mark" can be seen which i cover up quickly after.

I can still feel the weight of that enormous mark, a constant reminder of THAT day. Although I don't recall the specifics, the people around me have made certain that I never forget.

As I patiently wait for the seemingly endless hour for the taxi service on my phone to locate a ride for me, my mind drifts back to that unfateful day.

It was a day when my world crumbled even further, in a place I could never truly consider a home. Not only because of the physical space itself, but primarily due to the presence of that deranged individual.

The individual in question was meant to be my father, but in my eyes, he was nothing short of a monstrous figure. Thanks to him, I was forced to navigate through life on my own, constantly fending for myself. While my peers were busy learning multiplication tables, I found myself adapting and growing at an accelerated pace. By the age of nine, I had already surpassed high school due to my unwavering dedication to my studies. Yet, no matter what I achieved, that monster remained unsatisfied.

Then came the day when I stumbled upon the origin of the mark that set me apart from other children. It was a moment etched in my memory forever, as I listen to the drunken ramblings of a man in a fit of rage directed towards a mere nine-year-old. "Your mother despised you from the moment you entered this world," he spat, his words dripping with venom. "She kept you around as nothing more than an accessory to her precious status. But one day, she snapped. She lost her mind and attempted to end your life by scalding you with boiling water."

The weight of those words crashed upon me like a tidal wave, shattering any remnants of innocence I had left. The revelation of my mother's alleged hatred and the horrifying attempt on my life left me reeling. It was a dramatic twist in the narrative of my existence, forever altering my perception of the world.

In that moment, I realized the true extent of the darkness that had surrounded me. The monster I once called my father was merely a pawn in a much larger, sinister game. 

"Damn it! That day, I should have allowed her to put an end to you. If only I had, she would still be by my side," he wailed out before succumbing to sleep. As a nine-year-old, I stood there, frozen, in front of his unconscious body, trying to comprehend the words of this monstrous figure. I had just been informed of how my very existence was never desired, how I should have perished. I should have..."

In a dramatic tone of voice, the scene unfolds with a sense of anguish and despair. Sae reflects on the regret of not allowing someone to end the life of the person they are addressing. The emotions are heightened as the nine-year-old child is left to process the harsh reality of being unwanted and the weight of their existence.

"I should have perished on that fateful da-" Just as I was about to complete my sentence, a familiar, comforting, and captivating raspy voice beckoned me.

"Little Miss!" he exclaimed, effortlessly seizing my shoulders while casting a shadow over me with his imposing stature. This man...Mr. De Rose?.

Snapping back to reality, I finally managed to respond, as a concerned giant peered into my soul with eyes reminiscent of a worried puppy fretting for its master.

In a graceful motion, he delicately brushed my hair behind my ear, his eyes scanning my body with an almost frantic intensity. As his hands grew colder, he pulled me closer, his face filled with worry, fearing any harm that may befall me.

"LITTLE MISS!! What on earth happened?!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with concern, as he held me tightly.

"LITTLE MISS!!! Speak to me!" he pleaded, shaking me with an unexpected ease.

"Yes, Mr. De Rose?!" I responded, my head feeling heavy from the sudden jolting.

"Excuse me, can you tell me what happened? I called out for your name, but, you did not respond. Furthermore, I am quite curious as to why you are standing outside at such a late hour".Puzzled, I glanced around and realized that I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that I failed to notice his truck, adorned with flower decorations, parked in front of me for an indeterminate period of time.

Returning to the matter at hand, I hastily told the events to him, albeit omitting the personal introspection I had just mentioned.

Emanuele De Rose, an incredible florist whom I had the pleasure of frequently conversing with, has truly been a source of comfort and kindness in my life. Not only does he possess a calming presence, but he also goes above and beyond to treat me with utmost care and affection. From baking delectable sweets to hand-feeding them to me, he has shown unwavering support, especially during times when I was unwell and unable to work.

What sets Emanuele apart is his selflessness. Despite having his own responsibilities, he willingly comes to my house to assist with household chores, even though it is entirely unnecessary. He insists that I already have enough on my plate and he wants to alleviate some of the burden. This act of kindness truly exemplifies the remarkable character of this man.

But let me tell you, Emanuele is not just your typical kind-hearted old man. He is a force to be reckoned with! In order to maintain his health, he has built quite an impressive physique. Standing at an impressive 6'7", he often laments about the challenges he faces due to his towering figure. Most doorways in Italy are simply too small for him, and he never misses an opportunity to share his frustrations about it.

I cannot express how fortunate I am to have crossed paths with such an extraordinary individual. Emanuele De Rose is not only a skilled florist but also a true embodiment of compassion and generosity. His larger-than-life personality, both figuratively and literally, adds an exciting and unique dimension to our interactions.

As i await for a reaction, my mind gets swept away once more,I couldn't help but giggle as I reminisced about the times I had spent with Mr. De Rose. It felt like just yesterday, but in the blink of an eye, five years had already passed. Time truly flies, doesn't it?

I scolded myself for daydreaming so much. It was time to focus and get back to reality. "So, Mr. De Rose," I began, looking up at him with admiration. His towering figure commanded respect, and I patiently awaited his response. However, as he gazed towards the company building, a look I had never seen before crossed his face. It was not the sweet, kind expression of the old man I knew. Instead, it resembled that of a ferocious creature, ready to devour whatever had angered it.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel fear in that moment. Instead, a strange sense of comfort washed over me. Despite his fierce expression, his hands remained firmly planted on my shoulders, as if he were ready to shield me from any harm.

"Mr. De Rose?" I called out again, this time capturing his attention. In an instant, the expression on his face transformed from that of a beast to the familiar, gentle look of a puppy.

He gazes at me with eyes filled with empathy, his hand gently shifting from my shoulder to my back, while the other tenderly strokes my lustrous black hair. His touch makes me feel cherished, and as he opens his mouth to speak, his voice resonates with warmth: "You must have had such a challenging day, sweetie."

In that moment, his eyes, his voice, and the transformation of his initially cold hands into a comforting, scorching heat leave me momentarily speechless. I manage to stammer a response, my excitement palpable: "Umm...yes... "

a part of me was consumed by the overwhelming thoughts I had towards this man, who is twice my age.The sheer intensity of the situation electrifies me, as if I am caught in a whirlwind of exhilaration.

My face flushed with a deep shade of crimson, consumed by a wave of embarrassment as my hidden desires leaked through the recesses of my mind. Suddenly, he effortlessly lifted me off the ground, his strong arms enveloping me, and began striding towards his truck.

"Let's get you home, little miss," he uttered with a tender care, opening the door and gently placing me inside. As he reached towards the glove compartment, his broad chest shattered the illusions I had woven, igniting a pang of envy within me. Why did it have to be so much bigger when mine was hardly noteworthy?

To my surprise, he pulled out a beautifully adorned blanket and a pillow, both adorned with delicate flowers. Confusion etched across his face, he asked, "What's wrong?" After flexing his chest at me. In response, I crossed my arms and pouted, unable to articulate my feelings.

"I don't know, you tell me," I retorted childishly, my voice laced with a hint of petulance. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he positioned the pillow behind my head and draped the blanket over me. Closing the door, he made his way to the driver's seat, ready to embark on our journey home.

"Let's go home then, little miss," he smiled warmly at me, his eyes filled with affection, before focusing his attention on the road ahead.

As he drives, I find myself fixated on him, captivated by his kindness and overwhelmed with gratitude for having crossed paths with him. Gradually, drowsiness begins to consume me, and he astutely senses it, adjusting his speed to ensure a smoother ride. With a contented smile, I surrender to sleep, closing my eyes in search of much-needed rest.

Yet, amidst my slumber, a lingering question haunts my thoughts: Why did he come for me? Ah, well, I shall ask about it later, for now... i need sleep