Another day, another beginning.
I blinked myself awake and turned my head slowly toward the clock hanging on my pastel pink wall. 7:51 a.m. Great. I'd been awake on and off all night.
Why didn't I sleep well? I thought as I swung my legs over the bed, rubbing my eyes. My hands landed on my hips. Something about the air today felt heavier—like the day itself was waiting to tell me something.
I walked over and pushed open the window. A soft breeze rolled in, cool and crisp, bringing with it the familiar scent of damp earth and fruit trees. The leaves on the nearby apple trees shimmered under the gentle morning sun, and in the distance, I could already hear the distant hum of the workers beginning their chores.
"Mia! Breakfast is ready!"
I jumped, startled by Mom's voice echoing from below. That woman could yell across five acres and still sound warm and motherly.
She's always been an early riser—an unshakable force of nature. Ever since I can remember, she's managed this farm like it was a kingdom and she was the queen. Sometimes, though, I wondered if we were all just... trapped in this place. I was born here. Raised here. And according to Dad, we'd die here too.
"It's chaotic, polluted, and full of people who'll take advantage of you," he always says about the city, like he's shielding us from a war zone.
I rushed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and brushed my teeth in a daze. The mirror stared back at me—same brown eyes, same sleep-creased cheeks. I sighed and toweled off.
When I opened the door, I nearly bumped into Marco, my brother—and personal morning alarm clock.
"What's taking you so long? They've been calling you for ages," he scolded, already walking away before I could even open my mouth to reply.
I exhaled sharply and rolled my eyes behind his back. I could already hear his future complaints, which oddly made me chuckle. Just imagining his forehead veins popping from annoyance was entertaining. But if he ever caught me laughing at him… yeah, I'd probably be hiding under my bed.
I scanned my closet quickly.
Hmm. Pink sundress. My favorite one. Light, breezy, sleeveless with delicate thin straps and soft floral patterns. It was perfect for mornings like this—when the air was warm but not heavy, and I wanted to feel like something out of a daydream.
Downstairs, the scent of sizzling bacon greeted me like a hug. At the table, Dad was deeply absorbed in the newspaper, his brow furrowed like he was reading a national emergency. Mom was setting out fresh bread and pouring coffee into his mug. Marco sat at the end of the table, grinning at his phone like it was telling him the funniest joke in the world.
Who's he talking to this early? I wouldn't be surprised if he was charming another girl. He's got that kind of look—confident, smooth, way too sure of himself. He looks just like Dad, but younger: same sharp nose, clean jawline, and about six feet tall. The only thing that sets him apart is the tattoos snaking down his arms—something Dad still pretends not to notice.
But then I noticed someone else.
Wait… who's that?
There was a guy sitting next to Marco. Not someone I recognized. He looked like he belonged in a fashion ad, not our rustic kitchen. He had on a dark fitted shirt, arms crossed, chatting lazily while Marco barely listened, too absorbed in his screen.
"Ahhh, Mia, my dear!" Dad said warmly, standing from his chair as soon as he saw me.
"Hi, Dad," I greeted, mustering a polite smile as I stepped closer.
And then I froze.
Where am I supposed to sit?
My seat—my seat—right beside Marco, had been taken. By him.
Seriously?!
"My dear, sorry about that. Sit here instead," Dad said quickly, guiding me to the chair beside Mom. "This is Andreis, Marco's childhood friend. Do you remember him?"
Andreis? The name rang faint bells, but I couldn't place a face. I offered him a forced, polite smile while inwardly glaring daggers at him for sitting in my spot.
In fairness… the guy was good-looking. Really good-looking. The kind of face that probably always smelled like expensive cologne. Tall, neatly groomed, with a smug glint in his eye. Probably full of himself.
Ugh. He even looked arrogant.
Breakfast smelled amazing—freshly baked bread, crisp bacon, and eggs that shimmered golden under the lights. But the moment he took my seat, my appetite vanished. I was the princess of this house, and this random guy just waltzed in and stole my royal throne like it meant nothing.
I liked sitting next to Marco—not because I liked him or anything, but because teasing him at breakfast was a sacred tradition.
"Mia! Mom's talking to you! Are you deaf or what?" Marco snapped, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
My cheeks flushed. Crap. I didn't even realize I had been zoning out—staring, actually. But I wasn't staring at him. I was just... processing.
"S-sorry. No, Mom. I'll just have bread today," I said quickly, offering a weak half-smile.
She frowned and reached over to feel my forehead.
"Are you okay? Are you sick? Bacon's your favorite, right?"
"No, Mom. I'm okay. Just not in the mood today," I mumbled.
"Bro, looks like Mia's in a bad mood 'cause of me," Andreis teased, laughing as he nudged Marco.
Marco laughed too, hitting him back on the shoulder.
I rolled my eyes at the two of them. Boys.
This day was off to a fantastic start.