Prologue

Ever since it was justified that the world is round, I started listing the groups of people in this universe that I don't really need to deal with during my not-so-intriguing lifetime.

First, STRANGERS.

I blinked my eyes twice, trying to convince my self that it's not really happening, that I bumped my head on the wall or something, and everything's just a hallucination.

Okay, okay. Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Miss, ah, can you move a little? My position is quite uncomfortable. You see, I'm pregnant."

Damn. It's not a hallucination. I am really in a three-wheeled vehicle, and I remember the days when I don't even care what to call it! Because of this day's catastrophe, I could not even have the guts to know the fucking reasons why Heather Cassia is in a tricycle!

"No need to tell me that you're pregnant. Not that I'm stupid to think that you're carrying a moon in your stomach." I couldn't stop rolling my eyes, yet I didn't bother to throw a glance at her. "I'm not going to move. After all, I'm not obligated to do whatever you ask me to."

I told the driver earlier that I will triple the pay, or even more, yet he didn't listen. He said that this pregnant woman here is his sister-in-law, and there's not enough tricycle for the both of us unless we share in one. Thus, whatever difficulty we have right now is entirely the consequence of their decision.

The woman moved. "Yes, Miss, indeed, you are right. No one has the right to force you do something you are not obligated to do. But all I'm asking is your kindness. That's the only thing I can possibly receive in a matter where no rule is applied."

I finally faced the woman and I clearly saw how she blinked her eyes the moment she witnessed my reaction — indifferent, uncompassionate, disgusted.

Well, I have no time playing like an angel. If they think I am evil, my deepest apology folks, I don't care.

"Kindness, you say?" I laughed sarcastically. "What a luxury word. It is so luxurious that I almost forgotten it exists. Because you know," I tilted my head, my eyes are glued back on the road, "if courtesy runs the world, we're now marching in an inevitable death. Because courtesy is often, if not always, the reason why a person dies. Is it not suspicious? Why would a good thing kill countless of people? I don't want to show it if it will only lead me to my own downfall."

"Miss—"

"Anyway," I cut her off, "coming from your little mouth, there is no rule, so whatever my choice right now, I won't be disobeying any. Here it is: screw your courtesy. I don't need to offer you that because I am pretty sure that our paths won't cross again. So, what for?"

Second, PARENTS.

"You should not buy whatever you want, Hid. Our business is now kissing bankruptcy, you should be aware."

I put all the paper bags I am holding on top of the glass table and smilingly faced my mother.

She's still in her business attire with her eyeglasses on, making her look intimidating and distant. Nevertheless, I was never been feared by her looks, her words, her actions, and her position. Good thing she can't blame me enough because I am her younger reflection. She can't criticize her own image after all.

"Mom," I dramatically exhaled, "I need all of these. Didn't you teach me to recognize my needs?"

Folds appeared on her forehead. She did not hide her exaggerated tired exhale. "You're exactly doing the opposite, young lady. Those aren't your needs. And please, not again. We're not going to argue about this."

A fancy smile made its way to my lips. "That's why you should just shut up, Mom." For a second, I paused when I realized what I just said. Oh, careless little mouth.

"Are you disrespecting me now, Heather Cassia?" Now she's serious . . . and mad . . . and hurt. Jesus, here we go again.

"Mom—"

"Do not buy a new mobile phone, or another pair of shoes, or another set of cosmetics and jewelry, unless if it's completely necessary. Stop eating in expensive restaurants as well, because I am very much aware that we have enough food in this house. Don't abuse our money just because you think we are rich. We are now slowly going down, Hid. You're old enough, I should not be explaining now."

She turned her back to leave, but I spoke loud enough for her to hear. It made her stop just three steps away from me.

"Isn't it too much? People of my age are enjoying their lives! Isn't it a shame that you want me to experience otherwise?"

"Heather!" My mother's eyes are wide enough to tell that she's now losing her temper. "Some people in your age can't even eat three times a day. What else do you want? You are lucky compared to those living in the slums. So are so much luckier than the thousands of children in the difficult parts of the universe. Do not be childish!"

My fingers clenched the hem of my shirt as my blood seems to rush in my head. I am also fuming with anger, but I suppressed it from appearing. I held my head high and slowly approached her.

"Children do starve due to their parents' irresponsibility. If they aren't ready to support their family, why fuck at all?"

She gasped, the sound did not able to escape my sharp hearing. Her jaw clenches. The veins on her neck turned evident that they almost popped. Her reaction is too strong for me to put a name on it.

However, I am far from being done. I am Heather Cassia Del Puerto, and I wasn't born to be corrected.

"So tell me, Mom. Were you just too obsessed with sex, or you're simply an irresponsible mother?"

"HEATHER!"

A deep, baritone voice echoed in my four-cornered room. If it's only a decibel louder, the ground will surely shake.

I did not bother to throw him a glance. A voluntary sigh escaped my lips as my fingers unconsciously played with the strands of my hair.

I know where our conversation is going, especially that dad is here. I can now clearly visualize the scenes from this minute onwards.

Yet at the end of discussion, the most appropriate conclusion came from me.

"I'm your daughter. My flesh and perceptions, my attitude and identity . . . are simply inherited by no other than you two. Now rejoice."

Third, SISTER.

I pulled Aldrin's neckline as my fingers travelled to his abdomen. Our kiss deepened and our tongue played a perfect rhythm. A soft moan escaped from my lips as a strange heat started to overpower us both.

His rough palm traveled on my naked upper body. From my neck, he slowly went down to my breasts, stomach, until he reached my jewel. I bite my lips, trying not to make a sound. Yet as soon as he entered his finger inside my lower fleshy folds, I wasn't able to stop myself from making a loud sound already. And as my moan enveloped the room, the door banged open, revealing the shocked expression of my sister.

"What the . . . " She's speechless, and so am I.

No, not because I'm guilty that if only she didn't arrive, I'm already making out with her boyfriend. I'm speechless because I simply don't care about 'what-the-hell-is-happening?' kind of questions.

I stood up and put back my clothes. The mood is ruined. Great.

"Sister, don't you dare leave the room without explaining!" my dear Hyacinth finally reacted after minutes of silence.

"Explain what? You've seen it. What you saw is exactly the explanation you are needing. Gotta go."

"No!" She held my hand to stop me. "We are siblings. Isn't that enough for—

"For me not to do this?" I raised both of my brows. "You should thank me instead. I did what I deemed to be necessary. You found out that your boyfriend is capable of cheating. A simple temptation has made him fall on the palm of my hand. Isn't it funny, yet clever? It's a blessing in disguise. Be realistic, Hyacinth." I chuckled. "Besides, if ever there was something that happened between us, I am not the one to be blamed. We both wanted it. As a human, we have the right to have that something we desire. And we are about to have 'it' only if you did not interfere. You're just a girlfriend. That does not mean you're his owner."

"You're the worst."

"I couldn't agree more." I stepped closer to her, leaned near the curve of her neck, and whispered, "Sometimes, you need to step out from your position because some things would make you realize that you don't deserve to be there."

Fourth, COUSINS.

"I'm wearing the color of my name on the upcoming university ball," my cousin, Aconite, stated. We are currently spending the rest of the day in our favorite café. Her head turned to her left. "What about you, Perrie?"

"The color of semperflorens, then. I'll be having a personalized dress."

"Me too," Poppy seconded.

"It's a deal. We should wear the color of our names."

"You have two names, two different colors," I nonchalantly reminded Aconite. It's making me sick that our names are all flowers. Now they are having a fuss out of it.

"Any of the two, then. They both look great on her," the Almighty Semperflorens cheerfully replied.

Poppy clapped her hands. "So, it's settled. There should be only one designer for our dresses, and only the color differs. Oh my God, isn't that so sweet?"

"Don't give me that kind of shit, Poppy," I counteracted, caring less about my choice of words toward her. "What are we, spoiled-bratt toddlers? Have your own design and I'll have mine."

"But, I'm okay with Poppy's idea, Hid," Nite spoke. "It's only a once in a blue moon moment. Aren't you proud that we are cousins?"

"Oh, what an emotional kind of persuasion," I dramatically commented. "Unfortunately, it didn't succeed to convince me. It's up to you if you want to have similar dresses. I will have my own designer. Exclude me with your idiocy."

"Heather!" There's a warning in the way Perrie called my name. "We are the eldest here, act like one."

I rolled my hair through my fingers. "Now the angel 20-year-old has spoken." I indifferently shrugged my shoulders. "And the evil 20-year-old is speechless."

I continued sipping my coffee, and when I'm done, I stood up and smiled at them. "Still, I'm not liking your ideas. Because as long as it didn't come from me, it's not a worthy thing to consider. Remember, I'm . . . the . . . best . . . Del Puerto."

I walked out, leaving them the kind of atmosphere that has never been strange to anyone who know me.

And lastly, HUSBAND.

Wait, husband?

"Mrs. Lavigne, Sir Lord has asked for your audience. If possible, you should already be in his office before lunch time."

My lips were pressed together as I harshly put my cup of coffee down on the table.

"Mrs. Lavigne, you say? Call me Ms. Heather Del Puerto, because I am not married, do you understand? I am not married. And most especially, I am not married to a man named Lord Lavigne. NOT IN MY WILDEST DREAM!"

Because even though I am wrong . . . I AM RIGHT.