THE HEART I HIDE

The world, I’ve always believed, is divided into two types of people: old or young, tall or short, those who know how to be happy… and those who complain no matter what they have.

Some people can be surrounded by every luxury and still find something to grumble about. For them, nothing is more important than money; they never learn to appreciate the small joys life offers.

I never thought I’d meet such a person on my eight-hour flight from London to New York.

My father often says, It doesn’t take long for your life to change in a city like New York. Back then, I thought he was just being dramatic.

Now I understand because my life changed after I met this woman.

The hum of the engines was almost soothing until the sharp, irritated voice of a woman cut through the cabin.

“Can you not do your job?”

I opened one eye. The air hostess was bent over apologetically beside an elegantly dressed woman in her forties. A scarf,fine, pale wool rested over her lap.

“This shawl is pure pashmina,” the woman continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “If it gets damaged, your entire staff couldn’t afford to replace it. Don’t just stand there. You may leave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the hostess murmured, cheeks flushed.

The name printed on the passenger manifest was Diana Westwood,renowned jewelry magnate, society icon, and, judging by her tone, someone used to the world bending to her will.

“Goodness. Useless girl,” she muttered under her breath.

That was enough to make me “wake up.” I yawned deliberately, stretching just enough to let my hand “accidentally” knock the glossy magazine from her grip.

“Ah,my bad,” I said with an innocent smile.

Diana gave me a cool, assessing look. “Seems I’m meeting ill-mannered people today.”

“Why would anyone need manners to sit on a plane?” I replied casually. “You’ve paid for your ticket, haven’t you? And I’m sure your pure pashmina scarf is… very expensive. But this magazine?” I tapped it lightly before handing it back to her. “You can replace it.”

She took it without a word.

Another hostess arrived. “Good morning, ma’am. Good morning, sir. What can I get you?”

I smiled at her, but before Diana could open her mouth, I cut in. “I’ll have”

“Excuse me,” Diana snapped. “Will you take my order, or just stand there ignoring me? Is your entire staff so unprofessional?”

“They’re not like that,” the hostess began, but I interrupted again.

“Listen carefully,my seat comes before yours. That means my order should be taken first.” I turned back to the hostess. “If you don’t mind, may I place my order? Make it quick, please.”

Diana’s eyes widened in disbelief, but the hostess took my order before moving to her.

“Thank you so much for your kind attention, Miss Susan,” Diana said sweetly, a smirk curling her lips. “French fries and chicken.”

I added, “Make sure both meals are super fresh.”

When the food arrived, I made a point of eating messily. Diana’s lips curled in disgust.

“No etiquette. Middle-class behavior. People like you don’t deserve to sit on a plane,” she muttered.

I smiled. “You’ve guessed right,it’s my first time on a plane.”

“No wonder,” she replied, clearly pleased with herself.

“I’ve worked hard all my life. Thought I should take a break.”

“Oh, so you work?” she asked with mock interest.

“Yes, of course,” I said around a mouthful of food.

“Close your mouth when you eat!” she barked.

I kept talking just to irritate her. Within minutes, she’d called the hostess to change her seat.

Before she could walk away, I said, “Excuse me,wait. You have such a pleasant personality. Give me your card. We should go to lunch together. I’m serious,you have to give me your number.”

She left without a word, her frustration almost tangible.

Later,“Come on, everyone, you have to get ready for school,” Rose Westwood called out to the children at the orphanage where she worked.

“Lily, Laurel, Isabel, Mike, Tyler milk first, then you can leave,” she said, smiling as they teased her with a barrage of questions. She shepherded them onto the bus, waving goodbye.

Just as the bus pulled away, the children tossed a bouquet toward her.

“Happy birthday, Rose!”

She caught it, laughing. “Thank you!”

Her grandmother’s call came moments later. “Your mother’s flight just landed meet me at the airport.”

When Rose arrived, her grandmother embraced her warmly. “Happy birthday, my beautiful girl.”

They stood together as Rose predicted exactly how her mother’s arrival would unfold handing luggage to Uncle Kelvin, offering her shawl to Uncle Ralph (who would misunderstand and shake her hand), and being swarmed by paparazzi before she even reached them and true to Rose’s words, it happened exactly that way.

Diana Westwood finally reached them, pulling Rose into a brief hug in front of the cameras. “What are you wearing? You look like one of those middle-class people.”

She turned to Kelvin. “Hand over the gift for Rose.”

No happy birthday and no warmth.

Rose’s smile faded as her mother swept past. “I told you she wouldn’t,” she murmured to her grandmother.

Outside, Rose was unlocking her red Ferrari when a man slid into the passenger seat.

“Drive,fast! I have to catch my driver before he leaves with my luggage. My sister’s dress, my father’s watch it’s all in there!”

Rose blinked. “How did you get into my car?”

He stepped out, opened the door again, and slid back in. “Like that.”

Against her better judgment, she drove after the taxi he pointed out. Halfway through the chase, he admitted, laughing, “That story? Total lie.”

She glared at him. “You wasted my time for a joke?”

“Stop here,” he said, hopping out to buy cotton candy. He handed her one. “My dad always said sweet things make a bitter day better. You looked sad. I thought you could use it.”

Before she could answer, he was gone.

That evening, the Westwood mansion buzzed with activity. Staff moved briskly from room to room, arranging flowers, polishing glassware, and setting the stage for what the city’s elite would later call the party of the season.

It was Rose’s birthday,but everyone knew the real reason for the extravagance. Tonight, Diana Westwood would be unveiling the crown piece of her new jewelry line.

From the staircase landing, Rose could see her mother in the grand salon, speaking sharply into her phone. Uncle Kelvin stood nearby, clipboard in hand, overseeing the final details.

“Is everything ready as I asked?” Diana asked, voice crisp.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kelvin replied.

“Good,” she said, then turned her gaze toward Ralph, who was fumbling with a tray of champagne flutes. “Kelvin, teach Ralph how to be useful like you. Sometimes I wonder why I keep him around.”

Ralph’s ears burned red as he lowered the tray. Kelvin gave him a sympathetic glance but said nothing.

Diana’s attention shifted back to business. “Has Rose tried on the new jewelry?”

Kelvin called up to her. “Rose, come here! Try this on,it’s the necklace your mother’s launching tonight.”

Rose descended the stairs, glancing at the sparkling piece resting in its velvet box. She reached for it but before it could touch her skin, her phone rang.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” she said quickly, stepping away toward the hallway.

Diana’s eyes narrowed, her polished smile dropping the second Rose disappeared from sight. “Whether she likes it or not, she said in a low, deliberate tone, she is wearing that necklace tonight. My business depends on it.”

Neither of them knew it yet,but someone was about to crash into their perfect lives with a lot of drama and shake it to the core.