Oh my god. Stop staring. Immediately.


    "Stop undressing him with your eyes." Shit! She caught me again, gawking at her brother. But what can I do? He''s mesmerizing. Tall and broad-shouldered, his every movement radiates strength. The flexing muscles beneath his shirt could make any woman weak. His long, dark brown hair is tied back, yet it gleams like silk under the sunlight. I''ve never touched it, but I imagine it''s soft, smoother than anything I''ve ever known. My fingers ache to reach out, to explore every inch of him.


    Not today. Not ever.


    Then, as if sensing my gaze, he pauses. His dark green eyes flick around the room, scanning the windows. My heart skips. Is he looking for me? But no. His attention shifts back to his task, indifferent. Again, he doesn''t see me. Disappointment floods my chest, heavy and familiar.


    He lied. He betrayed.


    "No, I''m just out here for some fresh air," I stammer, avoiding Jessie''s smirk. "Admiring the flowers."


    "Oh, sure," she snorts. "And the handsome bee buzzing around them?" Jessie knows everything. Every glance, every sigh. She sees right through me when it comes to her brother.


    Ronald.


    He''s been the axis of my world for as long as I can remember. Ever since his family came to work for us when I was five, he''s been... everything. That first day, he stood tall beside his mother, his piercing green eyes meeting mine, and my world tilted. His mother, Mrs. Laura, became our head cook, and his father, Mr. Carlo, took care of the garden. But Ronald... Ronald became my friend. My first friend. Maybe my only real one. His presence felt like a secret just for me.


    Mrs. Laura, though, has always despised me. Her sharp eyes track my every move when I''m near her son. When no one''s around, she scolds him in hushed but vicious tones. Mr. Carlo, on the other hand, is kind. Like a second father. He''d hand me a flower every morning with a warm smile and a "Have a good day, Miss Rose."


    But Ronald? He''s a storm. An irresistible, overwhelming force. I''ve seen the way other girls throw themselves at him. The looks they give, the whispers that follow him wherever he goes. It drives me mad. But deep down, I know—or I hope—that he''s mine. Different social classes be damned. Love doesn''t care about wealth or status. It sees the heart and soul, ready to bleed for its truth.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "Shit, you''re overthinking again," Jessie teases, jerking her chin toward the gate. Two girls in skimpy outfits are ogling Ronald. I''d claw their eyes out if I could. But instead, I say nothing, gripping the edge of the bench.


    "You should tell him, you know," Jessie prods.


    "Tell him what? And who''s ''him''?" My heart leaps into my throat at the sound of his voice. Ronald is standing right behind us. How long has he been there? My cheeks burn as I realize I''ve been caught again.


    "Tell you that she''s in love with you," Jessie blurts out, grinning like the devil. My stomach plummets. Oh no. No, no, no.


    "Jessie, can you..." Ronald''s voice trails off as Jessie winks and saunters away, leaving us alone. His footsteps draw closer, and I freeze. My palms are clammy, my heart pounding. His warmth radiates behind me, the scent of him—earthy and intoxicating—filling my senses.


    "My little Rosee," he murmurs. The nickname—Rosee Posee—pulls me back to childhood memories of him teasing me mercilessly. He''d tug my hair, make me cry, then hand me chocolate to make up for it. He was my protector, my tormentor, my everything.


    I''ve spent years longing for him, enduring the pain of watching him with other girls, knowing he''d never be mine. But now, as he''s so close, the ache intensifies.


    "I''m here to invite you to my birthday party," I say, thrusting the invitation toward him without turning around. If I face him, he''ll see the tears threatening to fall.


    "Eighteen," he muses, his voice low. "You''re all grown up."


    "Like you forgot." My voice is sharp, a defense against the vulnerability threatening to overwhelm me.


    "Rose..."


    "Please don''t," I whisper. "It''s my birthday. Let it be a happy day." But before I can move away, he grips my arm gently, turning me to face him. His green eyes burn into mine, and I''m lost.


    "Tell me we''re the same," he pleads. "That this is just a misunderstanding. I''m yours, Rosee. Always have been."


    Liar.


    "Misunderstanding?" I laugh bitterly. "I saw you with her."


    "And I saw you with him." His voice is a whisper, his lips so close to mine that I can feel his breath. My resolve wavers, but before I can respond, a sharp voice cuts through the air.


    "What the hell is going on here?" Mrs. Laura''s fury shatters the moment. Ronald steps back, guilt shadowing his face. Her glare pierces me, filled with venom.


    "Miss Rose, your mother is looking for you," she snaps. "And I''ve told you to stay away from my son. Stop throwing yourself at him."


    Her words slice through me, but Ronald says nothing. He''s silent, a puppet in her hands. My chest tightens as I realize, yet again, that he''ll never stand up for me. For us.


    I pull my arm free from his grip, stepping away. His silence is louder than any words.


    Some battles aren''t worth fighting. And some loves are too broken to mend.