Chapter 11

As his grip tightened around my neck, a sense of suffocation enveloped me. The pressure on my throat made it difficult to think, let alone speak. His question echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat: What right did I have to live?

In the darkness that threatened to consume me, a flicker of defiance sparked to life. Did I need a right to live? Wasn't the mere desire for happiness and peace reason enough to cling to life? But as his hold tightened, doubts crept in, clouding my thoughts with uncertainty.

Struggling against the overwhelming force constricting my airways, I realized something profound was stirring within me. Despite the despair that threatened to overwhelm my senses, a small voice whispered in the depths of my soul: Maybe I don't want to die.

With that realization came a surge of determination, a stubborn refusal to succumb to the darkness that loomed over me. Though every fiber of my being screamed for release, I fought against the tightening grip, clawing desperately for air, for life.

In that moment of struggle, a newfound clarity emerged. It wasn't a matter of having the right to live; it was about finding the will to survive, to endure the hardships that life presented. As I fought against the hands that sought to snuff out my existence, I clung to the flicker of hope that burned within me, a beacon guiding me through the darkness toward the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

I woke up with a start, my face drenched in sweat. Fear gripped me as thoughts of my father invaded my dreams once again. I didn't want to see him, not even in my sleep.

I had to shake off the lingering unease. Work would distract me. Quickly, I got out of bed, got ready, and headed to the store.

Upon arrival, I found the manager sitting in a chair, absorbed in the TV while arranging a bouquet. The store hadn't opened yet.

"Good morning," I greeted.

"Huh? Violet? Why are you so early? It's just 7 in the morning."

"I woke up early and had nothing to do, so--"

"Did something happen?"

"What will happen?"

She remained silent for a moment as I hastily donned my apron.

"Wait! Did you have breakfast?"

"Huh? No," I replied.

"Go to your favorite person's store and have some breakfast first. I'm not open yet," she said, removing the apron from my body and nudging me out of the store.

"Don't rush back," she added, shutting the door in my face.

*Sigh*

What a bad day. I needed to fill up on energy by seeing Adil.

I walked to his store. Actually, I had never been to his store this early in the morning. It was always at night. If only eating was a luxury, then having breakfast was more than a luxury.

My mother always insisted that my father, her, and I always have breakfast together, but after she died, my father hardly came out of his room. By mid-noon, he would emerge, only to start drinking immediately after.

I always wanted to eat together, but he used to tell me it was a waste of food for me to eat the portion of my dead mother. He already considered me dead when she died; he wanted my mother to be in my place.

Why didn't I die in her place? I asked myself this question countless times. I didn't find any particular answer.

I entered his store, which was bustling so early in the morning. Adil was already there, charming as ever. But today was particularly crowded, with ladies struggling and fighting to get inside.

What's happening?

Should I go to the back?

Maybe I shouldn't. I pushed my way inside because I was curious to see what was happening. A person was standing at the counter who wasn't Adil.

He had pure white skin, a slight beard, and deep emerald eyes. His hair, tied in a bun, was soft and wavy. He was tall, and he had a small tattoo on his right hand—a tattoo of two swords crossed with blood dropping between them. He was simply so handsome. More handsome than Adil, more handsome than anyone I had ever seen. He felt familiar, but I couldn't recall seeing him before.

I stood in line to order, noticing many women asking for his number. If I had seen him earlier than Adil, I would have done the same. He looked irresistible, and his looks made any woman flaunt. He was just so hot.

His visible hand nerves while taking orders were alluringly visible. Suddenly, he looked at me, gave me a smirk, and then looked away.

What the hell just happened? He looked at me, right? Or was it someone else? I glanced back, and there was a big line behind me. I was sure it was someone else. Right?

Finally, it was my turn to order.

I looked at the menu, but as always, I was clueless about what to eat. I didn't have a preference.

"What do you recommend?" I asked, and he smiled at me.

"Isn't it better to eat something you like rather than a recommendation, Ms. Violet?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Adil told me."

"Why isn't he here today?"

"Some general issues, but Ms. Violet, you have to decide quickly because many people are standing behind you," he spoke.

What? I didn't know what to order. Don't rush me.

"Recommend--"

"Ms. Violet, quick."

"Th--then this," I said, pointing in a panic.

"That's a very tasty dish, Ms. Violet," he spoke and gave me the bill.

I moved out of the line. Th--that was so scary. This is the first time I ordered on my own. I wonder if it tastes bad.

I sat down in a just emptied chair. After a few minutes, he brought me the dish I ordered and placed it in front of me.

For looks, it looks so normal.

Somehow my hand is shivering to taste something I selected on my own. I shouldn't have come here.

"Have a taste, Ms. Violet," he spoke.

Why didn't he leave yet?

I took a spoonful of food and placed it in my mouth. There are butterflies in my mouth. The taste is incredible. I just can't believe I am eating something so delicious.

He walked away without saying a word, but I could see his small smile around the corner of his mouth.

The first time I ordered food. The first taste is so beautiful. I feel so happy that my eyes teared up.