The atmosphere wasn’t as strict as I’d previously felt before when I was in the presence of Madam. I only wish I knew her real name. No one seemed to murmur it, and so I assumed it was a secret.

The Madam was sitting across from me, pouring a piping hot cup of tea, despite the intense heat. Her elegant hands were concealed with white-laced gloves today, and her blue dress matched exquisitely against it all, as it usually did. I couldn’t help but wonder why she chose to wear such old-fashioned gowns.

I fidgeted where I sat, regarding my own attire: a simple pink pullover that I always wore, weathered jeans, and white converse.

We were in a place that was by far my most favorite location in the mansion. It looked much like a greenhouse, but the heat wasn’t as humid or intense as one.

Surrounded by a collection of exotic plants that reached the mile high domed, glass ceilings and walls, I spotted greenery that I’d never before witnessed in my life. The place must’ve been as big as a football field, entirely made of stained glass and metal work. The bright light of the sun peeked, casting a soft multi-colored glow, settling into the place quite enchantingly.

The table before us was made of glass as well, round, huge, and contained an array of sweets, sandwiches, and teas. A four-tier silver platter of teacakes sat beside me, enticing me, whilst my own tea wafted tastefully herby smells against my face, fogging my glasses.

Madam directed her stare towards me, smiling softly. “I believe you want to apologize for yesterday.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she spoke first.

“There is no need to apologize. Luka is a tough case, but not so very hard to dislike.” She admitted, stirring in two cubes of white sugar into her tea.

I watched the rings on her fingers glint in the light. Rubies, diamonds, emeralds—but a blue one seemed to catch my eye the most. There, engraved in the middle of that large gem, the letter ‘W’ remained prominent. I wondered if that was the family last name.

“Now, I know you have questions.” She pointed out, taking a sip of her tea. Everything she did looked elegant. “Though I have a story, and it may answer the questions you’ve been wanting to ask me.”

Without being aware of it, I gulped. Somehow this was all making me nervous? Did she think I was being nosy? What were the consequences of that?

“Okay.” I said, unnervingly.

She laughed softly.

All the while, I felt the presence of Mr. Rangel. He was standing there a bit far from us, stiff as always, with a trolley full of more treats and treats we’d eaten. I felt guilty, knowing he was by our side while we ate. It didn’t feel human or nice.

Was this considered normal to them? Even with money, I didn’t think servants were necessary. But maybe the old lady was old-fashioned—maybe the entire family was old-fashioned.

She cleared her throat. “Luka’s mother died when he was seven.”

I choked.

So blunt—she was so blunt about it. How could one think it was okay to drop such news like that?

I took a sip of my own tea to stop my coughing. I really was surprised by what she said.

The lady continued on, not noticing my small cough-attack. “His father is the only person he has, besides me, that is.”

“A-ah, really . . .” I managed to say.

“My son has had a string of ex-wives. I believe it has affected Luka in a negative way.” She told me, taking a small cake from a tray nonchalantly. “My grandson truly has the mind of his father, but he luckily has the heart of his mother.”

I wondered if it was okay listening to her family history. It certainly didn’t feel right to me. This was all private information.

“Lung cancer.” She said. Her eyes remained sharp. No feeling was there anymore. Actually, it seemed as if no feeling remained. “Luka always blamed his father.”

I stayed quiet for a minute, processing everything.

It was then that I knew it’d be impossible to think about it now. I’d have to let the thoughts fester in my mind for a while afterwards.

His mom . . .

Somehow, this made me feel . . .

“Why did he . . .” I began, “Why does he blame his father?”

She appeared pleased that I’d spoken. It made me somewhat comfortable to ask questions. “He owns a cigarette empire in Russia.” She answered me. “That is where most of our wealth comes from.”

My eyes widened.

What?

I tried not choking again. I really could not imagine the amount of wealth these people had. It was more so prominent after she revealed where it came from.

The lady gazed at me sharply. “His mother never once held a cigarette in her life. But it was no doubt exposure and her already poor health that contributed to her death.”

She took another sip of her tea. I shrunk in my seat, watching her. I didn’t believe I was the best individual to hear her family secrets. I was just an ordinary person. I wasn’t a part of their complicated lives.

I sighed at a small cake and stuffed it into my mouth in one bite, clearly feeling overwhelmed. I always ate whenever I felt stressed or anxious.

“As for Luka’s ex-girlfriend," This time, it was she that sighed.

Honestly, I was surprised. All this time I thought the girlfriend was the least of the lady’s problems. I assumed he was heartbroken over her. Was that the case?

“He’s not heartbroken, exactly.” She said, reading my mind. “He realized she only wanted him for his wealth, which, does not come as a surprise. His own string of past lovers, including most people who stick to us, come for that sole reason.”

At that remark, I shrunk even further in my seat. She’d just stated why I was there in the first place. I needed money to pay her back for what I broke.

Also . . . Lucas and . . . past lovers?

She saw this and smiled, “You. You are a different case. You are not here to solely leech on us. I know that very well. In fact, our wealth seems to make you . . . uncomfortable at times.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

But why was she sparing me from calling me a leech? I knew most definitely that I was in some way.

“I believe that has done something to Luka as well.” She said. A hint of sorrow slipped in her voice before she could compose herself. “I also believe that is why he spoke so harshly to you yesterday.” She admitted. “He doesn’t understand that you are only trying to help him.”

With my eyes cast down, I kept my mouth shut.

She continued on, “I brought him here permanently about a couple months back, not too long ago. He visited on occasion throughout the years, though deep down I should’ve known I was his best guardian all along.” She poured herself another cup of tea. “Maybe he wouldn’t hold such hate in his heart if I’d taken him in earlier.”

“I don’t think it’s ‘hate’ necessarily.” I said rather abruptly, surprising even myself.

The lady appeared shocked at my sudden voice of opinion, but she didn’t look angry. Her greyish eyes scanned me. “Tell me, what do you think it is then?”

Out of habit, I curled my fingers around my sweater cuffs, playing with them. I didn’t know why I felt brave all of a sudden there. I must’ve just been thinking aloud when I’d said that.

Still, I needed to respond, “Well . . . when I was seven, I experienced something new—something scary at the time, even when it really, really isn’t.”

The lady lifted her chin, directing me to continue.

In the end, I ended up revealing the dream I’d always had. It was a very stupid dream, but one that I always remembered nowadays, since leaving this small town meant I’d be alone while doing it. It held importance even now in my situation with school. I was never alone, ever, in my life. This would definitely be a challenge for me. 

Loneliness was a very hard thing to go through. The feeling in my gut knew that 'hate' wasn’t what Lucas had in his heart—he didn’t know what it was like having others who wanted him for him. That was all.

She sat there as severely as ever, hands on her lap, thinking. After a few minutes of silence, I began to regret telling her what I thought.

But then—

“Mr. Rangel.” She suddenly said, making me jump where I sat.

The butler was there by her side in an instant. “Yes, Madam?”

“Fetch me the family picture in the silver frame. It's in my study. The one taken at the funeral.” She instructed him.

In one quick motion and a nod of his head, the man left swiftly to fetch her request.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

“You are rather empathetic.” She observed.

I shook my head. “I—I don’t believe so, ma’am.”

“Hmm . . .” She said. “What are you planning to study at university?”

This came as a shock. I never imagined the lady of this mansion to ask me such a question.

Truthfully, I was still debating on some majors, though one struck out a lot of the time. I did not know if it would be possible—though with all my heart I did want to help people. 

“Psychology.” I told her, feeling a bit shy.

I was never good at talking about myself with others.

“Interesting.” She said, looking genuinely interested. It confused me. “Luka is studying Botany.”

Botany? That would explain the flowers.

“But enough of that.” She set her teacup down. “You’ll get to know him as the months proceed. I shouldn’t have to explain everything. He can do that for himself.”

“Uh . . .” Is all I could say. Sometimes I forgot I would be spending the entire summer with him. This was only the beginning.

She chuckled at that. “Enough about Luka. I wanted to explain another thing.”

I waited for her to continue.

“The mansion in the past was not exactly a mansion.” She revealed. “It was a school. An academy.”

“That’s . . . hard to believe.” I said, taking a look at the place.

“Oh no doubt construction saved this land, but it was in part due to Luka’s mother and her money.” The lady got up from her seat slowly. I stayed where I was sitting. “What I’m trying to say is—that this property is more spacious than any of the manors here. So if you did become lost back then, I assume it was our land you fell into that day.”

I sat up quickly.

Was she implying . . . ?

The lady set her used teacup onto the trolley. “I don’t believe I am wrong.”

“I—it could be a possibility.” I reluctantly replied, after gathering myself.

“Luka has not changed much since he was a little boy.” She said, taking my teacup and placing it on the trolley as well. “I am surprised you did not recognize him.”

“Honestly, ma’am, I do not know if I believe it just yet.” I told her truthfully.

She paced, “Well, I don’t think Luka has figured it out either.”

“ . . . are you going to tell him?” I asked her.

“What fun would that be?” She responded, chuckling to herself.

It was then that I realized just how strange his grandmother was. She had an icy exterior, but she also had a devilish sense of humor.

“Shall I let him figure it out himself?” I said.

She shook her head. “I will let you do as you please. You are his guardian, after all.”

I prevented myself from heaving a sigh at the mention. “Yes. I guess so.”

“In the meantime, I do hope you will find the patience to bring Luka out of his room. He is not normally one to stay locked up. It is worrying to the staff here.” She remarked. “If anything, I suggest looking in the garden if he becomes . . . broody.”

Behind us, Mr. Rangel appeared.

The man was truly fast at his job. It amazed me.

“Come, Sammy.” She ordered, “Please take a look at this.”

Mr. Rangel carefully displayed the object before us with white-gloved hands. The madam stood next to me.

I looked at her, and then at Mr. Rangel before setting my sights on the picture. The frame was shiny, silver, polished to perfection. The photograph that lay inside it though, was of a scene quite gloomy and dark. Totally different than what the atmosphere was like among us at that moment.

It was of the Madam and a young boy.

“That is Luka when he was seven.” She pointed out.

I looked more closely, but still, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The Madam was a lot younger, though I could still recognize her severe stare. The boy next to her was almost her size. He was tall, very skinny, and he had on a black suit with a—

“The scarf.” I said quietly.

That was the same scarf the boy had used to treat my wound. It was a blue scarf with tassels, made of soft material. I remembered it because my mom still had it somewhere in the house.

I turned to the lady. “That can’t be . . .”

“I’m afraid so, dear.” She replied. “You’ve met Luka before, in the past.”

“No . . .” I said, doubting the evidence.

As if sensing my discomfort, Mr. Rangel took the portrait away.

The lady placed her hands behind her back, “This is surprising news to me as well.” She began to pace again. “To think that you two have met before—it truly is strange.”

I continued to look at the portrait, despite it being facedown and out of reach. Shivers climbed the back of my neck. It was like I was experiencing déjà vu.

No way was it Lucas back then. It must’ve been a mistake.

But then again, how could one argue when real proof was there? The lady wouldn’t be lying about something like this. So it was most likely the truth.

“I’ve met him before?” I asked no one in particular.

That was, as the madam had said, very strange.

So very strange indeed, particularly about one part: he wasn’t even crying. The picture was taken at a funeral, and he’d discovered me during that funeral. That was why he was wearing black. I had found it so unusual.

Then I thought of how that mourning boy felt the need to make me, a crying boy . . . happy? Just what was going on through his head when he met me? I was crying over nothing, when in reality he was the one who was deeply hurting.

Wait—

Which funeral was it?

His mother’s . . . ?

I found my chair and sat down, rubbing my temples. A sudden rush of memories began filtering through my mind.

“It can’t be.” I said.

I couldn’t simply forget what that boy grew up to be. That definitely could not cloud what I needed to do. Kind or not, that was years ago. He was not the same boy I’d met back then.

“He never mentioned anything about you at the time.” The lady revealed. “Luka must’ve kept it a secret all along.” She muttered below her breath, “He always seems to do just that.”

“I’m finding it hard to believe that’s the same boy.” I said.

“You are correct.” She agreed. “But it does not deny one thing.”

I looked up at her wearily. “What?”

“Luka never trusted anyone, ever, in his entire life.” She informed me. “I find it odd how he chose to help you.”

That was harsh.

I bit my lip. This was getting weirder and weirder—much like fate had a play in this. I didn’t even believe in fate, much less destiny!

It was just a weird coincidence.

“Yeah, odd.” I said to her.

It was just a coincidence. That was all. Just a weird coincidence . . . so—

Why did I find it hard to believe?