UNCONDITIONAL LOVE- LOVE FIND IT'S WAY

"Anastasia, give me back my locket!" screamed Layla. I shook my head. It was mine-the gift my parents had given me on my first birthday. It has been with me since then, but today Layla wants it. She had already taken everything, but this was the last thing my parents left for me.

"Anastasia, you bitch," she screamed, and the locket broke into pieces. My eyes began to well with tears as I knelt down. It was broken and couldn't be put back in its original position.

"It's broken, just like you, stealer," she shouted and slapped me.

"Cook for us, you worthless bitch. You spoil my whole mood," she said, going back to her room. I cried hard, biting my lips. The beads were lying on the floor, and it aches my heart. It was broken and couldn't be repaired with anything. I shook my head, tucked the left bead into my dress' pocket, and got to my feet.

Aunt needs her dinner on time or else she will take mine and won't let me eat. I went back to her kitchen and made dinner.

Being an orphan, I was humiliated by everybody, called names like "a maid," "a murderer of her own parents," and "a lonely bitch." I was beaten on a day-to-day basis and treated as a servant in my own home.

"Anastasia, bitch, come here!" My aunt shouted. I went to her room, looking at her. Her face completely coated in rage, ready to pounce at me.

She pointed to the sheets and asked, "Why didn't you replace my sheets?"

I didn't have time to change because I had been working since the morning. I didn't get time for anything. Sundays are the fun days for everyone but for me it was the worst day. I have to clean the house twice with all the chores.

"I-"

"You become lazy day by day; your monthly allowance is deducted; you won't get anything," she shouted. I didn't object. She gave me a few pennies, called a monthly allowance, which is even less than a maid makes. I changed her sheets and went back to my work, holding my weak body.

I still remember the happy days I spent with my family, the way my father made me laugh, the food my mother made-everything became a delusion. I still remember the day; my parents wanted me to go with them, but it isn't fitting that I didn't go with them. After learning of their accident and the death of my family, my body could not comprehend that they were not with me.

It took me a month to recover from the shock and understand that my parents had become stars.

The bright, smiling star in the sky.

I talked to them for hours, asking them why they left me here with those strangers. I always consoled my heart, knowing they were with me in a new form.

I was in depression after learning about their deaths. A ten-year-old girl who loves to laugh and smile had spent her days in her room, shouting at her parents' photos and asking them why they left her with those people whom she hadn't even met.

And the ironic thing was that the girl was me.

I was forced to live with my paternal aunt and her annoying daughter. My cousin, Layla, does horrendous things and blames me. I was punished for her wrongdoings.

My dad left me some money and a house for my marriage. My aunt only kept me because she wanted my money and this beautiful house, which my dad designed for his family. He didn't know the day would arrive when his only daughter would be the servant in her own house.

My aunt had already taken my expensive dresses, my jewellery, and my mother's accessories and given them to her daughter. Now she wanted that money to make me a beggar and let me rot in the streets. Not only this, but she also tore my family photos and burned them in front of my eyes. I begged her not to do this, but she kicked me in the stomach and slapped me. My face was swollen for a few days.

My aunt's daughter, Layla, was the most popular girl at the university. She was ashamed of me because I don't have classy clothes like her. Her friends bully me. I don't have any friends because I was a poor child, and they belong to a rich family. She was a confident girl, unlike me. I was a simple and low-key girl at the university.

My father belongs to a quite rich family, and my mother belongs to a middle-class family. They both were high school sweethearts, and my mother was so beautiful. My father used to tell me the stories of his rivals, but thinking about the beautiful days makes my eyes fill with tears and my heart with sorrow.

Aunt shouted, interrupting my thoughts,

"Anastasia, you damn girl. Bring my dinner; did you want to starve me to death so you can take everything from my daughter?" She shouted and went back to her room.

"Just a minute, aunt," I say as I walk towards her bedroom. My cousin Layla abruptly stepped forward, placing her legs between them. I didn't see her footing, and I fell.

"Mom, she fell!" she shouted while smirking at me. She wants my aunt to punish me and beat me to death. I didn't look at her but started cleaning the floor. I know she won't let me eat today.

My aunt came, looking at the broken pieces of plates.

"What does this bitch do now?" She raised her hand, holding my waist, and slapped me on the face. The slap came heavily, causing me to fall to the ground once again. Tears are flowing from my eyes. It was not the first time she slapped me. It was her daily routine. I saw Layla's triumphant smile and her aunt's livid face.

"You see, she broke your favourite cup set, mother." She kicked me in the stomach.

"Clumsy bitch, it's not your money you wasted; it was my money; your so-called father left us with nothing, but now you have to pay; pay for my plates, you broken thing; bring the stick, Layla." "I have to punish her," she smirked.

Layla took the stick from her room and gave it to her. She hits me on the back, and I cry in pain.

"Aunt, she came in front of me." I whimpered in pain.

"You are blaming my daughter; you are just like your bitch mother, always putting the blame on others," she shouted.

"It's not enough for her; I have to give her some more punishment," she said while holding a stick.

"You have to work extra hours in Ashley's shops, and you will not get any dinner today," she said. Layla was laughing and looking at me with pitiful eyes, making fun of me. It was a sigh of relief; it was actually not a bad punishment.

Ashley's shop has been just two blocks away from my home. It was started by my mother. She was a great cook and the best baker in the world, and I learned to bake from my mother. We both used to bake cookies, and she usually shared all her recipes with me.

Now my aunt is the owner, and I am the servant. I used to clean the tables and do a waitress job there. I always wanted to be a baker, but I didn't get the opportunity. My aunt didn't pay me but gave me food and daily clothes.

"I will do it, aunt, but please don't beat me." I pleaded with her, but Layla put her heels on my finger.

"Layla, give her your concealer to hide her marks, or Mrs. Spenser will suspect you also." She pointed towards me.

"Cook for us, you worthless bitch." She said this while walking back towards her room.

Mrs. Spenser is a kind lady who is like a mother figure to me; she is also the landlady of Ashley Shop, and her son is a billionaire. She knows my aunt and also warns her that if she tries to hurt me, she will call the police, so when my aunt beats me, she gives me concealer to hide my marks.

I went back to my room after doing chores and sat on my bed. My room is not a room but a storeroom. My previous room had been taken by Layla. It was the biggest room in the whole house. The theme of my room was the princess that my father decorated for me. He always called me his princess and wanted me to have the best of everything, but at last I was in suffering. We didn't get what we hope for, same with me. I didn't get what I thought and everything I had was already taken from me, my parents too.

I removed my cardigan and put some ointment on my marks. Some were already faded, and some were new. I know there will be a big bruise tomorrow, but it doesn't matter; I'll get used to it. I opened the knot of the beads and put it inside the box. I'll work hard to make it better even though I know it can't be made the same as before.

Kissing my family photo, I looked at my mother's face. I got my beautiful eyes from my mother. My father always wanted to hide me from the world because I was too innocent for this cruel world, but now I have to fight alone in this cruel world without his protection.

Now he was no more, no more to hide me.

Looking at the last photo of my family, I felt happy in my heart. I kept it a secret from my aunt. If she got to know about it, she would destroy it. I don't know what grudge she held against my family.

I walk towards my bed. I don't have a blanket; I use pieces of torn curtains to cover my body. Sometimes I had a nightmare about an accident, and I used to cry at night. I close my eyes and go to sleep every night with the thought of some good change in my life, but without my family, it's unimaginable.

****************

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.

****************

We both exchanged numbers. He was a good friend, well-known at the university. I could see girls admiring him, sending glares my way, but he paid them no mind, engrossed in our conversation. Some tried to join us, but he ignored them. It brought a sense of happiness, a rarity for me in this university.

He opened up about his family - a businessman father and a full-time housewife mother. There was a brother, a subject he preferred not to delve into. I didn't press, respecting it as a sensitive matter due to their strained relationship.

After class, we headed back. The bell signalled the end of lectures, and I caught a bus home.

Aunt had returned and was changing table covers herself, an unusual initiative. It hinted at important guests.

"Ana, Ana, prepare dinner fast; guests will be arriving shortly, and also change your torn clothes," she instructed sharply. "It smells awful; just change it fast!"

"Yes, aunt," I replied.

I swiftly prepared dinner and a chocolate cake for dessert, following her specified menu. Setting up the dining table, I replaced wilted flowers with fresh ones before quickly changing into my dress.

Layla never gave me anything too revealing; if she did, adjustments were in order. I wasn't one for baring much skin.

Downstairs, the guests were already seated on the sofa. I whispered, "The dinner is ready," before making my way back to the kitchen. They moved to the dining table, and I served the meal.

An older man, in his late fifties, gestured towards me, asking, "Who is she?" I kept my eyes on the floor, avoiding any reason for my aunt to reprimand me.

My aunt explained, "She is a servant, and we all provide respect to our servants, so come sit with us, Ana."

Seated beside a young man in his early twenties, his gaze remained fixed on me. I felt a twinge of self-consciousness. "We've decided that Layla should get married to this young man. They are also my business partners and Layla's future in-laws," announced my aunt. Layla blushed, an unfamiliar shyness about her.

I focused on my dinner, but suddenly felt a hand on my thigh. I chose to ignore it, until it persisted. I clenched my hands and stood up. "Don't dare touch me," I warned. He feigned innocence, winking at me. "I never touched girls like you. You try to seduce me with your hands," he falsely accused.

I looked at my aunt, but she remained silent. "Disgusting! Shame on you, servant. Dad, see this girl; she is a slutty bitch!" he shouted, glancing at the old man. My aunt's eyes held a fire.

"I know, son, something is off with this girl; she was continuously looking at my son," the old man remarked. My aunt believed an outsider over her own niece.

"Servants are always servants," he affirmed, placing his hands on his son's shoulder.

Layla stepped forward, looking at me. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from us?" she demanded. "She wants my future husband; she wants him. If she dares to seduce him, I will cut her fingers," she threatened.

"You bitch, I will chop your fingers, so you will never be able to roll your hands on someone's thighs," she vowed, slapping me. I tried to explain, but she continued to curse me.

The young man behind her smiled, mocking me. I approached my aunt, attempting to explain, but received another slap.

"Leave my house!" she roared, pointing towards the door. "Aunt," I whimpered, in pain, covering my face.

I fell to my knees. "He is not like you; he belongs to a great family, unlike you; first your mother seduced my brother, now you, Anastasia, get out of my house before I lose my temper and do something to you," she thundered.

"Madam, don't lose your calm on the servants," the man coaxed my aunt, smirking at me.

"Get out of my house, Anastasia!" she shouted. I cried hard. "No, I won't leave my house; this is my house, my family's house; I won't leave it; you both should leave my house," I interjected.

"What did you just say?" She asked. "This is your house." She came closer and threw punches at my stomach. It hurt.

She can hit me with the stick, but I will not leave my house. The house belongs to my family.

At last, when I was lying on the floor, she kicked me out of my own house. "Do not dare to come here, or else I will throw all your mother's belongings out; do you love them or not?" She laughed, and I didn't object. Those things belong to my mother; she kept them in a safe. I don't want to lose them. I didn't object and went out.

I have no place to live-no place to stay. I went to the nearby park and sat on the bench, looking at the sky. "Mother, Father, please, I beg you to take me with you; I can't live anymore; I can't; I am broken; I am weak; I can't fight against her," I murmured.

The chilly air hit my bloody face. I took out my phone and called Samar. He is my only friend that can help me now.

Restlessness consumed me. I couldn't bear to wait for my aunt's door to swing open; deep down, I knew it never would. The home that cradled my memories for eighteen years now felt like a stranger's abode.

Summoning what was left of my courage, I called Samar. "Can you meet me at the park near my house, please?" I asked. A reassuring "yes" was his reply. Words felt inadequate; the pain reverberated through every inch of me.

Minutes stretched into eternity. Finally, a car glided to a stop before the garden gate. Samar rushed towards me, and I quickly hid my face with a muffler.

"Hey, sweetie, what brings you to this chilly place?" He settled beside me.

"Just enjoying the night view," I lied.

He chuckled softly. "You're not the world's best liar, Anastasia."

I sighed. "I know. I need to ask you something." The words hung in the air, heavy with their weight. Samar was my lifeline.

"Today, can I stay at your house, please?" My voice trembled, tears streaming down my face. My bruised visage throbbed, my heart a mosaic of shattered pieces.

"Of course, sweetie, my home is your place. But what happened?" His gaze honed in on my bruised face. I tried to shield it, but it was futile; he'd already seen.

"What happened to your face?" He raised his voice, concern etched in his features. His touch sent a jolt of pain through me. "How did you get these bruises?" Anger simmered in his eyes, yet I couldn't bear to stir more trouble for myself. "Who dared to hurt you?"

"I'll tell you everything, but please, let me stay for just one day," I implored. Samar nodded, gently holding my hands. I buried my face in his shoulder, and together, we left.

********************