Prologue

01/28/2006 - New York, Manhattan, Central Park.

I tightly clasp my small, shell-shaped hands together, raising them to my mouth to blow warm air into them. The bitter cold is evident as I watch the hot breath escape in white vapor. My gloves, dark blue in color, offer some protection against the chill.

I walk through the park at a slow pace, despite being six years old already. I have no friends to play with in the snow, or engage in any other games.

It's a sad reality that those who approach me only do so to ridicule and laugh. I've never quite understood why, which is why I keep my words to a minimum. I can't fathom why children are unkind to me, always playing cruel tricks that leave me feeling excluded and melancholic.

My mother converses with a friend, both seated on a bench a few meters behind me. Mrs. Millenis appears to be quite kind, although she doesn't smile often. I've spoken to her only once before; my mother mentioned that she has two daughters who are only slightly older than me. I've never had the chance to see them, as they arrived at the park before me and ran off to enjoy themselves together. And here I am, walking alone. Unfortunately, I don't have any siblings. I've asked my parents before, but my mother said she couldn't give me a little brother. I noticed the sadness in her eyes when she said it, so I never brought it up again. I hate seeing my mom sad.

"Hey guys, look at the crybaby!" Leandro's voice pierces my ears. I glance at him, dressed in a cream-colored jacket with a red cap and gloves. I release my breath, tired of this treatment, and let my hands fall heavily at my sides.

"Cat got your tongue, did it?" Suzana adds, mocking me, dressed from head to toe in pink.

I choose not to respond, continuing to walk as if they aren't addressing me. A shiver runs down my spine, causing me to pause. I feel the remnants of icy snow on the back of my neck, reaching up to touch it. I turn my gaze to Leandro, who already has another snowball ready in his hands.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's ugly to treat others like dogs?" Leandro sarcastically asks before throwing the snowball. It hits me square in the face, and the impact forces me to take a few steps back, but I manage to maintain my balance.

"Let's teach him a lesson, everyone!" he exclaims loudly, rallying the other children.

I'm thrown to the ground and endure kicks to my stomach. The first blow steals my breath away, causing me to curl up and hug my knees, seeking some semblance of protection. After what feels like an eternity, they finally cease their assault. I hear the sound of their footsteps fading as they run away, and I release a relieved sigh. I get up and make my way to the nearest tree, sitting on the white ground covered in snow. Placing my arms on my knees, I lower my head, overcome by an immense sadness, and begin to cry.

I strive to be strong, to not let their actions affect me, but it's too difficult. I wish I could play, run, and scream with everyone, but no one wants me around, and it hurts deeply.

"Look sis, someone over there is sad," I hear a gentle voice say. I'm drawn to the voice; it sounds pleasant. However, I pay it no attention and continue my cascade of tears.

Suddenly, my tears cease, and I feel warm arms enveloping me in a comforting embrace. I

 lift my head in surprise and find myself met with kind, innocent eyes devoid of malice. I've never seen eyes this color before—violet. They are incredibly beautiful and radiate an uncommon kindness. My focus then shifts to her mouth, which forms a wide smile, revealing a missing tooth that doesn't detract from her beauty.

"Don't cry, things will get better," she says sympathetically, as though she understands that my world is crumbling.

"What's your name?" I ask absentmindedly, no longer preoccupied with her sadness but instead captivated by her beauty. She seems like an angel.

"My name is Aya. I'm five years old! Look," she says, holding up her hand, displaying all five fingers to indicate her age. It's so adorable. "I have to go now. My mom told me not to be late. Dad is coming home today," she adds, planting a kiss on my cheek before running off. I notice another girl running alongside her, slightly older than Aya.

My heart warms with gratitude. I will never forget this girl—I feel it was a sign from God, telling me not to give up, assuring me that there are still good people in the world. I hope to see her again.

Feeling calmer now, I rise from the ground and brush off the excess snow from my hands onto my pants. I quicken my pace and meet my mother, who smiles upon seeing me approach.

"It's a shame, my son. If you had arrived a couple of minutes earlier, you would have met Mrs. Millenis' daughters. They are really cute," my mother says, holding my hand.

I remain silent as we make our way to the car. Aya's violet eyes replay in my mind, eliciting a smile from me.