Rosé King

chapter 1

~~Aurora's  POV~~

My name is Aurora Claire Romano, and today is my 19th birthday. "Yay," right? Well, if you detected a heavy dose of sarcasm in that, you're not wrong. I can't stand my birthdays anymore. It's funny, though, because there was a time when I absolutely adored them—counted down the days, even. It used to be the highlight of my entire year.

Back then, my birthdays were special for one main reason: my Uncle Enzo. He wasn't my real uncle, but my father's best friend. To me, though, he was more than just that. He was my rock, my confidant, the one person I could always rely on. I grew up looking forward to his visits more than anything else. Whenever I knew my birthday was near, I wasn't just excited for the cake or the presents—I was excited because I knew Enzo would be there, and everything would feel right.

Uncle Enzo wasn't like anyone else in my life. He was a solid, dependable presence, someone I could talk to when things got tough, and someone who never judged me, no matter what. There was this quiet strength about him, the kind of strength that made you feel safe without him ever having to say a word. As I got older, though, things shifted. I started to notice more about him—the way he smiled at me, the warmth in his eyes when he looked my way, and that deep, calming voice that seemed to ease every worry I had.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't develop a crush on him, and honestly, it was more than just a little crush. I found myself stealing glances at him when I thought he wasn't paying attention, memorizing every detail of his face, the way his jaw would tighten when he was lost in thought, the roughness of his hands when they brushed against mine in passing. And that smile... that smile was enough to make my heart race every single time. It was like he knew exactly how to make my world stop spinning for a second, and in those moments, I couldn't help but fall a little harder.

But all of that changed on my 12th birthday.

I remember the day so clearly, like a memory etched in sharp, unforgiving detail. The morning had started out like any other birthday—full of laughter, cake, and presents. I was in my usual spot, waiting for Uncle Enzo to arrive, eager for the familiar warmth of his presence. Everything felt perfect, or at least as close to perfect as it could get for a kid. But then, something happened that shattered the illusion of safety and happiness I'd always associated with my birthday.

It started when a group of men dressed in black stormed into the room. They were terrifying—each one of them moved with a purpose, like they were hunting for something. I didn't know what they wanted, but the air felt heavy with danger. Growing up, I had always been a curious child. Sometimes that curiosity was a blessing; other times, it was a curse. On that day, it was definitely the latter. My mind was racing, trying to figure out who they were and why they were here. Were they thieves? Assassins? Or worse?

Suddenly, the air was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire.

"BANG! BANG! BANG!"

I barely had time to react before Uncle Enzo moved. He was fast—faster than I had ever seen him before. With one smooth motion, he pulled a gun from inside his jacket. I hadn't even known he carried one. The next few moments blurred into chaos. Enzo aimed with a deadly precision I didn't know he had in him. Every shot he fired hit its mark. The men in black didn't stand a chance. He shot each one in the head, and I watched as their bodies collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

The room was soaked in blood. It stained the walls, the floor, everything around me, and I could smell the metallic tang of it in the air. My head started to spin, my vision blurring as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. My Uncle Enzo, the man I had idolized, the man who was my protector, had killed five men right in front of me. It wasn't just the violence that shook me—it was how calm he was, how practiced. I had no idea this side of him existed.

I felt dizzy, my legs buckling beneath me. The world around me started to spin, faster and faster, until I couldn't take it anymore. Everything went dark, and I collapsed.

That was the day everything changed. My innocence, my sense of safety, and the way I saw Uncle Enzo. I couldn't look at him the same after that. The birthday I had always cherished, the one day of the year I had always looked forward to, became a reminder of that bloody scene. Since then, my birthdays have been a source of dread rather than excitement. Every year, when the date rolls around, I'm haunted by the memory of that day—by the gunshots, by the blood, and by the realization that the man I thought I knew had secrets I could never have imagined.

It's strange, isn't it? How one day, one single event, can take something you once loved and turn it into something you can't bear to face. My 19th birthday should be a celebration, but all I feel is this heavy weight in my chest—a reminder of the day when everything changed forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EDITED VERSION!!