Chapter 2 ANASTASIA

I woke up at five, turning off my alarm. My body ached from yesterday's beating. I got up from bed but stumbled and let out a small cry of pain when I saw the bruise on my body.

"Anastasia, be strong," I whispered to myself. I steadied myself and took a step forward, heading to the bathroom. I turned on the tap, closing my eyes, hoping the hot water would wash away the pain.

After a soothing hot bath, I quickly changed into my old clothes. Layla's friends had given them to me, knowing I couldn't afford fashionable attire. They teased and taunted me, but I bore it all in silence. Their words couldn't overpower my quiet strength, and I took pride in that.

I went downstairs to start my morning chores. I couldn't leave for class until the whole house was cleaned and tidied. My aunt couldn't afford to hire another servant.

My room was on the first floor, while my aunt's and Layla's rooms were on the ground floor. My parents' room had become my aunt's, and Layla had taken over mine. I had fought, cried, and begged for a month to keep my parents' room, but in the end, I lost. The last thing that connected me to them was taken away.

"Well, it seems like you had a good night, Anastasia," Layla sneered. She sat, checking her too-short dress that barely covered her.

"Do you like it, Anastasia?" She asked, showing me her freshly painted nails.

"I do," I replied.

"Too bad, Miss Low-class can't afford them," she chuckled.

"By the way, dear, did you make my lunch?" My aunt emerged from her room, taking a seat.

"I have to leave for my shop," my aunt emphasized the "my." She knew it was my mom's shop, but she liked to think of herself as the owner.

"Yes, Aunt," I brought her breakfast and stood aside.

"Ana, some important guests are coming today, so be on your best behaviour and pick out something nice from Layla," she said. It was the first time she tried to portray herself as a good aunt, not the one who bullied her niece.

"I don't want people thinking I'm a cruel aunt who can't provide for her orphaned niece," she ordered, her tone softer than usual.

"And prepare dinner accordingly. You know I have that stick from yesterday, just in case," she smirked, finishing her breakfast.

She washed her hands and left. The marks from the beating were still visible on my back. It wasn't the first time she had hurt me; it had become a daily occurrence. Bruises covered my body, hidden from the world. I didn't have the strength to complain, knowing she'd find new ways to hurt me.

Her punishments were the worst. I still remembered one time when she locked me in a dark room for two days without food or water, just because I was late with her dinner.

I was always respectful to her, but she only saw me as a servant. Some days were harder than others. I struggled to accept that my family was gone. I used to hurt myself, but reading my mom's diary gave me the strength to fight. She always wanted me to be strong, so I put on a brave face for others, but inside, I felt terribly alone without them.

I started writing in my diary, telling my parents about my day. I wanted them to be proud of the woman I was becoming, the daughter they had always wished for. The same girl they had always wanted.

I left the house, locking the door behind me, and caught the city bus to go to the university. Layla had a fancy car, but I wasn't granted that privilege. She was the popular girl on campus, while I was the bookish loner. I didn't have friends, but Layla had many. They all came from rich families, and there I was, their so-called servant, doing everything they asked, from helping with assignments to fetching their lunch.

Layla often skipped classes with her friends and her boyfriend Sammy, who was a popular rich boy and my biggest bully. I didn't know much about him, except that his dad was a big businessman.

Once he played a prank on me, putting gum on my seat, and that day I was wearing pants. It was humiliating, but I couldn't do anything about it. His dad was a major supporter of the university, and no one dared to stand up to him. One student tried, but he was humiliated by his friends.

Now I was used to their pranks. They didn't bother me anymore. I arrived at the university, ignoring Layla and Sammy, who were inseparable. They sat close, like two people sharing one breath. Yuck.

Somebody sprinkle holy water on me.

I focused on my locker, erasing the hurtful words scrawled there. They didn't know anything about me. I took out my book and headed to my class. My first period was math, and I loved it. Most people didn't, but it was my favourite subject after management.

I always wanted to work for my dad's company, but I didn't get the chance. My dad used to say "believe in yourself," but I didn't have as much patience as him. He was my hero, the best dad any girl could wish for, but sometimes we don't get everything we want.

My aunt didn't pay for my university fees. According to her, I wasn't a privileged child. I always wanted to study at the best university, and with a lot of determination, I worked hard for the scholarship. I ranked first, so I got a full scholarship. My aunt made some trouble, but I did everything to get into Layla's college. She didn't want to admit I was related to her in front of her friends.

California University was one of the most respected in the state. It had everything a student needed- a big library, lecture halls, a dining hall, parking, a garden, and even a gym. I had only seen the library so far, because in my free time, I liked to study in quiet places. I went to the main hall, got my books from the locker, and went to my math class. Some students were discussing the assignment that Mr. Spark, the math teacher, had given. He was quite strict and didn't tolerate students being late. I had been on the receiving end of his anger once, but I still admired him a lot. The way he managed the class was always impressive.

"Look who's here," one student poked my head.

"The Nerd. Anastasia, ever been kissed? Or has someone dared steal your first kiss?" Jayson shouted, attracting a crowd.

They all wanted to know what would happen next. Jayson was Sammy's best friend and also my biggest tormentor. He flirted with every girl in the university and changed girls like clothes.

"No," I whispered, looking down. I didn't want to engage with him.

"Who's up for a kiss from the Nerd?" Jayson challenged. Roy, a fellow student, nodded.

"He likes her!" They all laughed.

"Boy, go and do as I say," Jayson whispered to Roy, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Students were hooting and laughing at me, and some were even recording the scene to show to others.

"No, I will never kiss him," I pushed Jayson and ran out. They were laughing and making fun of me, but I couldn't do it.

I went to a park near the university. It was the quietest place where I could cry and breathe freely. Here, no one would bully me, and no one was there to hurt me. The air was fresh and cool. I sat on a bench, feeling the breeze on my face.

"Mama, mama, I want an ice cream; please just one," a child nearby pouted.

How adorable.

I watched the scene and smiled, remembering my own childhood days. My dad used to come here and spend time with me. We'd eat ice cream and my brother would tease me about my playing skills. Everything was in the past, but the present was even harder. Those who loved me had already left me.

I looked at the sky, closing my eyes.

"What happened?"

"Why were you crying?" I opened my eyes and saw him.

"Is someone bullying you?" He asked. I looked at him and he smiled. I'd seen him somewhere, but where? He looked so cute with his dimples, grey eyes, and that smile. Everything about him was beautiful.

"Have we met before?" I asked.

"Duh! We're both at the same university," he replied.

"That's why he felt familiar," I murmured.

"Now tell me, sweetie, why were you crying, sitting alone in the park?" he asked, sitting beside me.

"No, I wasn't crying. Something was in my eye," I lied. He rolled his eyes. Why did he care if I was crying or not? It's not like we're friends.

"Lying to me or yourself, sweets; I saw Jayson bullying you," he said, studying my face.

"You already know, so why did you come here? To make fun of me or to tell me how weak I was?" I asked.

"I want to know your name, sweets," he said.

"My name is not Sweets. Don't call me that; my name is Anastasia," I replied with a frown.

"Whoa! A feisty girl. I'm just giving you a friendly nickname. I didn't come here to make fun of you, but to encourage you to fight back," he said, smiling, and I smiled back.

"Look, the way you fought with me. Why don't you fight against them?" He asked.

"Fight them? It's not possible," I replied.

"Anastasia, fight for yourself. Don't let them bully you," he said. I nodded.

"I promise I won't let them bully me anymore," I smiled and looked at the children playing.

"By the way, what a beautiful name you have; it suits you," he winked. I wasn't used to compliments. I'd always been teased for my looks, but never complimented. I blushed.

"How does my name suit me?" My curious mind asked.

"Because your eyes hypnotize me. I can't feel myself; it's like I'm falling for you," he replied, and I rolled my eyes.

Here we go again. His sweet words could make any girl fall for him, but I wasn't one of them.

"Oh, I didn't get your name," I asked, ignoring his flirtatious lines.

"My name is Samar, and can I get your number?" He smirked.

How straightforward.

He even asked for my number. We'd only talked for ten minutes.

"Why should I give you, my number?" I teased.

"We're not even friends, and you always ask girls for their number when you first meet them," I said.

I knew he wasn't a bad guy. Eighteen years of life had taught me how to judge people.

"No, you're the first girl I've asked for a phone number. Usually, girls give me their numbers, but you're different. And about being friends, we can become friends, right? So, friends?" He asked, extending his hand.

"Your hands are dirty from the ice cream," I teased. He quickly cleaned them, and I shook his hand happily.

"Yes, friends," I smiled.

We both enjoyed each other's company. We talked a lot. He was a chocolate lover and hated tomatoes. After spending a few more hours together, we headed to Nicholas Cafeteria near the park. We ordered cappuccinos. He loved coffee, but I preferred tea, though I did have caffeine sometimes.

He was a cool guy, and now he was my one and only friend at the university.

Yes, I'd made a friend.

For others, it might have been a small thing, but for me, it meant a lot. He was quite good at flirting, but he only did it in a friendly way. We had some things in common. He wasn't that bad.

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