"𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑"

IV

Morana's point of view:

It had been two days since I'd arrived at the new orphanage, and to put it bluntly, it wasn't as bad as I expected. But don't get me wrong—it wasn't great either.

The building itself was... okay. It wasn't some sprawling Italian villa with marble columns and manicured gardens (thank God), but it wasn't a dump, either. Three stories, decent stonework, lots of natural light. The kind of place that said, We care about appearances, but not enough to make this place actually feel like home.

The inside was painfully organized—pristine wood floors, spotless windows, furniture that was all matching tones of beige and sensible brown. No scuff marks. No personality. It was like the whole building had been scrubbed of life and individuality.

Not that they'd let me explore much. For the past two days, I'd been stuck on their new arrival program, which was apparently code for: Sit still, listen to boring lectures, and don't even think about having fun. Every time I even glanced at a staircase or an unmarked door, some staff member would pop up out of nowhere like a hall monitor on steroids.

"This is just to help you settle in," one of the staff had said with a strained smile.

Settle in. Right. Because nothing helps you settle in like being monitored 24/7 and lectured on things like "personal responsibility" and "respect for property."

Let me just say this: I'm not a bad kid. I don't steal, I don't fight (unless provoked), and I'm not running some underground candy-smuggling operation. But I do have a tendency to... push boundaries.

For example, yesterday, I might've accidentally set off the fire alarm. I wasn't trying to start trouble—not exactly. I just wanted to see if the sprinklers actually worked. Spoiler: they did.

They weren't happy about that.

The staff sat me down in a very serious meeting after that little incident. They said things like "dangerous behavior" and "poor judgment," but honestly, I tuned out halfway through. All I could think about was how I missed the fire alarm at St.Claire's. That one had a satisfying clang when you pulled it.

Still, I promised to be good—at least until I found a better way to entertain myself. They didn't need to know about the Zippo lighter tucked safely in my pocket, a gift from an old friend.

I liked having it with me, flipping it open and closed, watching the flame dance. Something about fire just... called to me. It was chaos in a neat little package, and I respected that.

I also wore my cross necklace, the one I never took off. It wasn't a religious thing, not really—it was just mine. A piece of my past I couldn't explain but refused to let go of.

The kids here weren't much different from the ones at St. Claire's. Some were loud and eager to make friends. Others were quiet, keeping to themselves like they'd perfected the art of invisibility. And then there were the ones who couldn't decide whether to be jealous of me or infatuated.

I'd always drawn attention, and not always the kind I wanted. It was the way I looked, I guess. The long, curly brown hair that never stayed where it was supposed to. The big, dark eyes that people always described as "doe-like," which was just a nice way of saying I looked like I was permanently curious or startled.

My lips were full—something that seemed to bother other girls more than it impressed me—and I had dimples that refused to let me look serious when I smiled. Add in the fact that my body had curves in all the places people seemed to notice, and you had a recipe for trouble.

And oh, was trouble brewing.

The boys here weren't subtle. They'd trip over themselves to say hi, offer to carry my things, or just stare from a distance like I wouldn't notice. It was awkward, especially since I wasn't interested. Not in them, not in their awkward compliments, and definitely not in being the center of whatever weird social hierarchy this place had going.

The girls? That was a mixed bag. Some of them were nice enough, though I could see the flickers of envy in their smiles. Others? Not so much. I'd caught more than one icy glare sent my way, usually when I wasn't even doing anything.

What was I supposed to do? Shrink myself down? Walk around with my hair in a bag and a sign that said, I'm not a threat, I swear? No thanks.

Then there was the bombshell about the private school.

Apparently, the orphanage had a deal with one of the best schools in the area—a ridiculously rich place called Liceo Sant'Agata. They offered scholarships to orphaned kids, and guess who had been awarded one? Yours truly.

I had no idea how that had happened until I thought about it. Sister Clarisse's. It had to be her. She probably sent them my grades, wrote some glowing recommendation letter, and made me sound like I wasn't just scraping by on caffeine and spite.

Now, I was stuck waiting for classes to start, wondering how on earth I was supposed to fit in at a place like that. Rich kids and uniforms and fancy teachers. It sounded like a nightmare.

And as if that wasn't enough, there was the matter of my heart.

The orphanage had already set me up with a cardiologist in the city—a specialist, apparently. They hadn't scheduled my first appointment yet, but I was sticking to my meds like clockwork. One little pill in the morning, one at night. It kept my heart steady, for now.

They watched me like hawks, though. Every time I coughed, someone was there with a glass of water and a worried expression. It was exhausting, having people treat you like you might shatter if the wind blew too hard.

So here I was, two days in, stuck in a limbo of lectures and restrictions, waiting for my life to start. Waiting to see if this new place would be any different or if I'd just end up as "the girl with the weak heart" all over again.

I reached into my pocket, flicking the Zippo open and closed, watching the flame flicker before snuffing it out.

"Let's see what you've got, Italy," I muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hoped you liked this chapter .
Do you guys like the story?

Please don't forget to vote,comment and share.

Sending lots of love

-M