Leila hummed a lively tune while descending the stairs, relieved to find her mother absent. Entering the kitchen, she set to work preparing a meal, determined to make the most of the limited ingredients available. With a spark of creativity and resourcefulness, she aimed to create something delicious that would satisfy their hunger.
Once, Leila had basked in the warmth of a joyful family. Her kind-hearted mother, a devoted father, and the playful little girl she used to be formed a close-knit bond. As a middle-class family, they enjoyed a comfortable life, and as their only child, Leila was cherished and adored.
Her parents showered her with love and attention, indulging her every desire and pampering her fully.
But fate had other plans, and the joy that once filled their home was short-lived. The house, once a vibrant and warm sanctuary, had slowly transformed into a hollow and desolate space. The turmoil unleashed by her father's actions had shattered their lives, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hopes.
Leila deeply missed the cheerful presence of her mother, who had always been an eternal optimist, radiating warmth and positivity. Her mother's bright smile and infectious laughter had once filled their home with joy, and her dreams of a bright future had inspired Leila to reach for the stars. But now, her mother seemed to be merely existing, letting life slip away from her grasp.
As the savory aroma of stir-fried vegetables wafted through the air, Leila's stomach growled in response, reminding her of the physical toll of her efforts. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, a testament to the hard work she had put into cooking a meal from scratch. The simple act of cooking had become a labor of love, a way for Leila to hold on to the memories of happier times and to find solace in the midst of chaos.
Determined to make the best of the situation, she gathered the trays of food and headed into the dining room, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Rosaline sat at the table, idly fiddling with the utensils in front of her, boredom evident in her demeanor. Leila gently set the trays down and took a seat opposite Rosaline. The two ate in silence, the only sound breaking the stillness being the occasional clink of utensils—a rather somber atmosphere.
Every now and then, Rosaline glanced at Leila, as if she had something to express. Her gaze eventually landed on Leila's bandaged hand. However, Leila remained oblivious to her mother's attention, fixating intently on her plate, radiating an aura of coldness and gloom.
"What happened to your hand?" Rosaline couldn't bear it anymore and broke the silence.
Leila moved her hand away from her mother's sight and responded stiffly. "Nothing." Rosaline scoffed and no longer paid attention to her.
'It's not like you care,' Leila thought to herself. She found it increasingly difficult to comprehend her mother. One moment, she was warm and compassionate; the next, she transformed into a harsh critic. Leila had long since given up on her, convinced that the mother she once knew was gone for good.
"What happened to that old hag? Why didn't I see her today?" Rosaline asked nonchalantly, lifting a spoonful of soup to her lips.
The old hag that Rosaline was referring to was Mrs Smith. She was the only loyal servant who remained after Leila's father vanished. Mrs Smith was Leila's nanny when she was little. Following her father's disappearance, the family could no longer afford to keep numerous servants, leading them to work at other wealthier households.
Only Mrs Smith stubbornly refused to leave. The old nanny to take care of Leila and her mother despite being given a meager salary and Rosaline always making things difficult for her.
Leila who was also eating paused. Pounding her fist on the table, she barked. "I keep telling you, you shouldn't call her that!"
Rosaline was totally unfazed by her violent actions. "Well, where is she?" She inquired again nonchalantly. Leila took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check.
"Her granddaughter wasn't feeling well so I sent her back home to attend her."
The room fell into a profound silence. Leila stared blankly at her plate lost in a whirlpool of her memories. It was as if she could still hear the echoes of joyous laughter and see the bright smiles from days long past, a bittersweet reminder of happier times.
"Don't eat too quickly! No one is going to steal your food away. And don't eat too much either." Her mother laughed while affectionately rubbing little Leila's head.
"She can eat as much as she wants. Stop nagging at her." Her father smiled. "You spoil her too much." Rosaline teased, her voice light but tinged with genuine concern.
No matter how much she tried to recall his face she could no longer remember. With time, it had become blurry in her memory. Well it was for the best.
Rosaline tried to start up a conversation. "When your father was still around..."
Leila suddenly stood up, the chair screeching loudly against the floor. "I am going to wash the dishes," she declared, her tone sharp.
She did not want to hear about anything related to that man. Every night after her father left, Rosaline would reminisce the beautiful memories of the past that felt like an anchor pulling Leila deeper into the past that she desperately wanted to escape.
The dinner ended rather abruptly. Rosaline returned to her room and Leila went to wash the dishes. She retired to her room as soon as she was done. The young girl took off her shoes and tossed them away carelessly before throwing herself onto the bed.
Because of the exhaustion from today's activities, it did not take long for her to drift off to sleep..
The night slipped away quietly, leaving behind a tranquil stillness. As dawn broke, a serene morning unfolded outside, revealing dew-kissed trees glistening in the soft light. The gentle blue sky stretched endlessly, promising a beautiful day ahead. If anything to Leila, it meant another day of suffering.
Rays of sunlight poured into the room, illuminating every corner with a warm glow, while a cool breeze drifted in, carrying with it the fresh scent of blooming flowers.
Leila opened her eyes slowly and scanned her surroundings. Oh, she was still stuck in this nightmare. Last night she had dreamt she had gone to a place where she had everything she wanted, everyone was friendly and there was lots of food. Lots of food, huh?
Leila yawned lazily as she stretched herself. Her eyes fell on the clock on the wall and she suddenly cursed. She was late for work. She quickly got out of bed and went to bathe. Thinking of the old baker's stern face as he stared at her disapprovingly made her shudder.
Leila worked at a small pastry shop called GoldenRose in town. It wasn't that famous but it still had a considerable amount of loyal customers. The salary was rather poor but it was sufficient to cover for the basic needs she required.
Carefully she smoothed the wrinkles on the blue, shabby dress she wore, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the fabric. With a practiced motion, she tugged the long sleeves down to conceal the ghastly bruises that peeked out on her arms.
These injuries were a painful reminder of the times her dear mother, overwhelmed by her own emotions, unleashed her fury on Leila.
In those moments of rage, Leila became the target, absorbing the blows without a word, choosing silence over confrontation. She had long since learned that fighting back would only escalate the storm, leaving her feeling even more trapped in a cycle of pain and despair.
Grabbing her bag, she stormed out of the room and raced downstairs.
"Miss Leila, aren't you late for work again?!" A warm concerned female voice rang in her ears, startling her. "Mrs Smith what are you doing here? Is your granddaughter feeling well already?"
The old lady in a servant uniform was holding a plate with meat buns in her hands standing not far away from her. She was surprised to see her back so early. She thought she would be gone for a week or so.
"Beatrice is feeling alright now. The fever has subsided. I rushed back to give you this. I knew you would leave for work on an empty stomach if I didn't come back."
A warm feeling bubbled inside her. " Thank you, Mrs Smith" Leila thanked her gratefully while picking two big meat buns from the plate. "I will be on my way now."
"Miss Leila?" Mrs Smith called her. However Leila had already ran out and slammed the door shut.
"You shoes..." She continued with a helpless look on her face.
The town buzzed with activity. Leila hurried along, trying to finish both meat buns in her hands. With her cheeks puffed out like an adorable little hamster, her face glistened with oil. She frantically brainstormed a convincing excuse to share with her boss.
While lost in thought, she did not notice the person in front of her and bumped into him. "Watch were you are going!" The man yelled.
Leila immediately bowed and apologized. The man seemed to recognize her from somewhere. "Hey, you are that whore's daughter. What's her name... Rosaline!"
Leila pursed her lips and hurriedly left with her head bowed.
"You and your sl*tty mother are not welcome in this town!" The man shouted after her.
Because of the man's shout, a few heads turned and were now staring at her in a hostile and repulsed manner.
Everyone in this town knew her mother was a good for nothing drunkard who slept around with many men. Thus most people did not like her and looked at her in disgust and contempt.
At first she felt uncomfortable and blamed her mother and had gotten into a huge fight because of this but now she had become numb to their insults.
She felt a wave of relief wash over her when the small old building came into sight. Its old weathered sign that read GoldenRose swayed slightly in the breeze. As she pushed the door open gently, a little bell chimed, announcing her arrival with a cheerful tinkling sound.
The little pastry shop was already crowded and a young woman was frantically moving to and fro, servicing the customers. When she noticed Leila coming in she smiled brightly. "You are finally here!"
"I apologise for being late." Leila lowered her head in shame.
"When have you ever been on time?" The waitress rolled her eyes, making Leila's cheeks turn red, deeply embarrassed. "Now hurry along. Mr Rodrick is surely going to give you an earful."
Leila mentally prepared herself for the baker's scolding as she dashed into the kitchen.
She knocked over something when she carelessly rushed in, creating a clanking sound, successfully attracting the attention of the baker who was busy mixing the flour. Leila gulped as she carefully picked up the thing she had toppled over.
"Leila Hart," the baker's old voice sounded in her ears, making her stiffen.
"So clumsy as always," he continued grimly.
"Mr Rodrick, I..."
"Save your stupid excuses for later and get to work," he interrupted her. "Margaret can't handle it alone out there. You and I will have a good chat later."
She bobbed her head vigorously, trying to appeared as obedient and well behaved as she could. "I understand." Mr Rodrick handed her a tray of tarts. "Off you go."
Her lips curled up happily. For now she had escaped her fate from getting scolded.
"I'm not yet done with you." He gruffly said.
Leila swallowed hard and scurried off quickly like there was something chasing after her without looking back. Mr Rodrick's no nonsense look scared her more than anything and right now he appeared to be in a very bad mood. She anxiously wondered what was going to happen to her after work.