THERE'S ALWAYS DISAPPOINTMENT IN EVERY decision that I make. And the only option that I have is to keep the disappointments inside, knowing there's no good in making conflicts without facing the proper consequences. 

Even though I was halfway insulted by whoever hid my belongings behind the portrait, I tried to ignore the panic and uneasiness that rose in my throat when I read the Book of Revelation, knowing that there was a quarter percentage that I was only mistaken. Perhaps I'm creating an assumption, but half of me urges my curiosity to grow larger.

I locked myself inside my room, putting the Bible on top of the wooden table as I placed my right hand on the pages. I read the lines again with the softest and lowest tone to avoid being caught because the person who hid it might have despised the idea of Religion. And the most thing that I feared was accusing either the maids or Mrs. Heathers.

"Mary Jane, if you love your momma, please stop praying."

What would've been the answer— I tried to flicker the book page by page. But the words inscribed are far from my scope and limitation of knowledge. The wonders inside my chest turn to deep sanity of thinking when the rain turns wilder and aggressive. I flinch when the sound of thunder startled the corners of my room. Turn boisterous and fearfully strong.

If red could answer all of my questions. How could it imply, according to its rule—I turned around when someone knocked on my door, hiding the Bible and rosaries before lying on my bed. I tried to calm my chest and shut my eyes tight closed, when the door creaked open, and the soft sounds of footsteps were heard, Followed by the hushed whispers of voices.

"She's asleep..."

"She's beautiful..."

"Did she know about...?"

"He likes this woman..."

"Don't come near her. She has the necklace."

My eyes opened, and I turned around, fear etched on my chest. The sudden breeze of cold air blinded me for a split second. When I opened the door, no one was standing; only the dull glow of chandeliers in the hallway radiating from the half-opened door, creaking and stopping abruptly.

I screamed, and my eyes welled up with tears. It took seconds for Mrs. Heathers and her father to come inside, followed by several numbers of maids, "what's happened?" Father asked, coming in front of me before holding both of my arms. I cried painfully, but Mrs. Heathers' face was fixed in a deep frown, looking under my bed before taking the bibles and rosaries that I hid, taking it before walking out of my room at her quick pace. Followed by the anxious maids.

"What will she do with it?"

"Hush, just lay on the bed and rest," he said soothingly. I stared at his blue eyes and nodded. I lay slowly on the bed, tamed fear beneath my sanity.

"Please don't leave me, Daddy," I said hoarsely, just like I had said sixteen years ago. I was only four years old, pleading for my father to stay.

It was cold and dark in mid-winter, and the skies were covered by smoke near the newest factory in our town. It was the setting of old London around 1910, the day when I was expecting to have a ballet performance in one of the most famous theatres near our state. I was too scared by then, locking myself inside my room when the muffled sounds of fighting and yelling were heard on the other side of the wall.

From the tender age of four, I didn't know what to do; I just lay on my bed, embracing my pillow. Knowing that only one and a half hours were left until my performance, I was far from prepared, whimpering when I realized I would not make it. I thought it was my performance that they were fighting for, only if I understood the situation by then... and only if I had a crisp memory and remembered what they were about...

When the quarrel continued, I stood on my bed and took Victoria, my porcelain doll. I won't make it from the cupboard, holding her gently, Victoria. That is what I thought.

The door opened after an hour, settling me as I put the doll back in place. Father stood in front with an agitated yet painful expression in his eyes, "Let us visit the church, Mary Jane."

I stared at him, seemingly baffled and concerned, worrying why my daddy looked so sad and hurt. "But how will I be able to perform, Daddy?" I asked, wondering if he would even take me to the ballet theatre.

He didn't reply; instead, he put on my bonnet and my winter coat, taking my hands as we proceeded throughout the house. The snowflakes touched my button nose, and I had to cover it, not wanting to sneeze among the town's folk. By then, I noticed that my father's hands seemed to be trembling and sweating even though the weather appeared to be cold.

"The sister wants to see you today," Father's voice shook. "And perhaps seeing them would give you some luck from your performance." He lied. He took his smile as he pressed his lips together, looking straight without sparing a glance.

There are a few blurred details that I couldn't patch up. I'm sure my father told me something that day that left me gasping and protesting. It's something that I could hardly believe, but it's already sixteen years, and I already forget the prior details of when my father abandoned me.

When we arrived at the Church, the tall gray doors with a few sculptures of angels were pushed open as Father held my hand. He took me into one of the empty, long wooden chairs and knelt, clasping both hands and closing his eyes tight before trembling and crying softly.

Knowing my father, I already feel that something bad might happen. I trusted him that he wouldn't do something unacceptable—when he finished praying, Father took my hand, and we exited the Church; there's this one place where he took me. But the only thing I remembered was a dark and concave place somewhere else that was steep and narrow. When fear overtook me, I held Father's hands tightly and stared at him, "Please stay with me, Daddy,"

The rain stopped my memories abruptly, bringing me back to the present. My chest tightened from the things that I oath to forget as the soft pillow supported my throbbing head. Look at my father, who seemed uncertain.

WHEN MORNING COMES, the heavy rainfall stops, and the mansion is covered with a thick silence. I wished I was with Dominic because he always made me feel safe and sound. Touching the rose necklace and staring at my breakfast, thinking that there was only one day left till Monday, the actions themselves made Naomi unsettled. "You should at least eat something, Young Mistress. Your parents might be alarmed to know that you didn't."

I breathe deeply and look at her. "What did Mrs. Heathers do with my Bibles and rosaries?" I ask weakly, hoping she didn't throw them all away because a few things connect me to foster care.

"I do not know, young mistress, pardon me." She spoke, lowering her head before taking a step back. I shook my head and stood up from the bed, leaving the room to find the answers myself—Naomi kept calling from behind. Still, I wasn't too preoccupied with my own train of thought to acknowledge her opinion. I pushed the dining hall door open just to see Mrs. Heathers with her father, eating their own breakfast with a few butlers and maids surrounding them.

"Mary Jane, take a seat." Father greeted me, soothing my mood. But I stood up properly when I noticed the maid's superior was frowning at my demeanor. I glance at Naomi, and her eyes warn me that I should have changed before getting in here because of my nightgown.

I breathed deeply and sat beside Mrs. Heathers, across from Father. Staring at my plate as one of the maids filled it with indulging breakfast, "Pardon me, but I have something to ask," I spoke when the maid finished serving; Mrs. Heathers lent her full attention and put both hands atop the table.

"Before you ask, and since you are already here. I would be delighted to have a late afternoon picnic at the lake near our mansion. Your father and I have decided it will be a good opportunity to have some quality time together," Mrs. Heathers smiled warmly.

"But it rained yesterday. Is it really alright if we—"

"That will be fine. I ordered George just an hour ago to check the lake. The setting and current state seemed fit and stable. Anyway, Mary Jane, what again did you want to ask?"

"Oh," I interjected. "I just want to reclaim my bibles and rosaries."

The color in Mrs. Heathers' face drained. Suddenly uncomfortable and unstable from her seat, she muttered, "I keep it. For your own good, "in her softest voice, almost inaudible. I furrowed my eyebrows and stared at her, confused and insulted—because even though she's my mother, there are things that she does that are beyond the boundaries of etiquette.

"Young mistress, let's change your clothes," Naomi offered, already noticing the situation—I excused myself. I followed Naomi, entering my room and locking the door behind us.

"Did you know where she took it?"

"Pardon?"

"I meant my Bibles and rosaries. The things that she took under my bed because I remembered that she got out of my room carrying my belongings," I said in a hushed tone. I frequently glanced at the door to see if someone would interfere. Naomi looked at me, and her voice lowered to the same pitch as mine.

"I did see her with a few of the housemaids, walking in the hallway with your things. But I prefer not to eavesdrop further. Therefore, I apologize."

The sympathy rose on my chest, and I nodded with understanding. 

As Naomi came by my side and assisted me in fixing myself. When she'sshe was done with my hygiene, she made me wear a lovely midnight blue gown that made a flowy texture and fair smooth silk. It took me minutes to admire the dress before Naomi made me sit on my chair, brushing my dark blonde hair several times before putting a charming ribbon behind it. "You are lovely," she complimented me as she always did. Putting the strands of hair on my back and smoothing it with her fingers.

I decided to eat my already cold breakfast, spending half of my morning in my room staring at my window—I remembered that after the storm, I would spend my time with the other foster children. Cleaning up the backyard as Luciana would help me prepare the lunch that we would eat after the cleaning. Living with people I barely know is simple at most, but I'm overwhelmed. I thought I would feel more warmth now that I'm with my parents. But..

"It's time to go, young mistress," Naomi said, denoting my thoughts.

When we arrived at the lake, the personal householders prepared the table and meals that we'd be having. I observed them as Mrs. Heathers would entertain me by telling the precise details surrounding our area. Pretending to listen and let my thoughts drift away from the scenery, the water seemed dark blue, almost black. And the skies contrasted with the tall green grass.

"This place is the perfect setting for our picnic. I do not know if you still remember it, but we used to go here when you were just a babe," Mrs. Heathers said to keep the conversation going.

I didn't respond and bit my tongue, preventing me from spilling out my thoughts that might be far more disrespectful. Mrs. Heathers became tired after a few minutes of talking and looked at the unprepared table. "Mary Jane, why won't you go around here for a while? I know that you want to explore things on your own." Her head nodded to either of the maids, and I suddenly felt uneasy.

Naomi accompanies me when I take my walk. She frequently shares her words regarding her previous life with Mrs. Heathers—she told me that she'sshe was only fourteen years old when her father took her as one of the maids. When her family died in a giant fire that broke out here in our town, Mrs. Heathers had a sister. Still, ever since she entered our house, they were separated and never saw each other again.

Her forest green eyes stared with sorrow, but even though I wanted to help her move on from her despair, I, too, had something that I couldn't move on from.

The lake seemed calm and soothing. I sat on the cleanest grass and looked at the beautiful scenery in front of me—I haven't hadn't seen such beauty for the past few years of my life, and the more I observed nature, the more I understood it.

"I'll give you some alone time, young mistress. I will just ring the bell if Lady Devana and Master Henry seek your presence," she bowed her head. Stare on me for a few moments before taking her leave.

When I turned my attention back to the lakeside, my eyes furrowed when I saw a distant dark blue dress walking further from the deepest part...a ." Waitait!!!" I called out, running towards the person. My gown got drenched from the cold water, but I chose to disregard it and ran further. The person stopped, turning his head.

He's not as beautiful and dominant as Dominic, but the thing that caught my attention was the deepest brown of his eyes. His hair was dark copper, and his skin was never pale. There were few specks of silver beneath his eyes, and his jaw's chiseled appearance seemed demanding and secure. I have a feeling that I've seen this man before.

I tried to recall my memory, but nothing came out of it. The man's eyes spoke confusion, and his lips parted to say something, but Naomi was already calling me.

WHEN MONDAY COMES, it took half my day to travel back to Mastema. The guards opened the gate and I got in, saying my words of gratitude to George for bringing me here. Walking towards the dorm, I instantly saw Dominic, who was already waiting for me. His black raven hair was raked in an enticing invitation, and his dark gray eyes looked longingly at me, anticipating my arrival. "I've waited," he spoke softly, kissing my head when I was already standing before him.

He took my hand and helped me with my belongings, and I couldn't help but notice that Dominic seemed more beautiful; perhaps it was because of the days that I hadn't seen him. His hand held mine firmly, guiding me through the hallway and proceeding to his room.

It felt strange knowing that a man wanted me to protect myself and stay on his territory alone. But I knew that Dominic was different, and he wouldn't let any harm be done between us.

Dominic put on my dresses inside his closet as I bathed. It only took me ten minutes because I already wanted to go to sleep. After I was done cleaning myself, I put on my nightgown. I exited the bathroom and walked towards the bed to see Dominic on the sofa with a navy blue book on his lap. Both hands were on his chin, serious and deep in thought.

I sat on the mattress. "Dominic," I started, "it rained on a weekend, right?"

"Yes, Mary."

"But yesterday, it'sit was quite confusing because the lake that we go to is clear and stable, without any signs of storm," I furrowed my eyebrows, propping my elbows on my lap.

He didn't respond, but he raked his hair using his fingers, staring at my demeanor amusedly, like a master who has his favorite possession.

"I met a guy yesterday, but I have a feeling. I think I knew him before like we had a close relationship in my early childhood years."

His eyes suddenly darken.

"I see,"