Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4– Miexha's Request
Miexha Verra's POV

Rule No. 3: Do not cry in front of Grandpapa. It makes him uncomfortable.

I cried anyway.

In front of my family. In my hospital bed.

I did not intend to. It simply... happened.

One moment, I was sipping chamomile tea, wrapped neatly in my second blanket. Next, they were discussing whether I should return to homeschooling, and my voice fractured before I could stop it.

I lied.

"School was wonderful," I said softly. "My classmates were kind. I felt... welcome. Almost normal. The sunlight through the classroom windows was prettier than the one in my tower."

Mommy Cienna smiled with visible relief. 

Daddy Rickzen gave a firm nod, as though that was the only acceptable outcome.

Mama Sarah wiped the corner of my mouth with a silk handkerchief and tucked a third blanket around my shoulders.

Papa William adjusted his monocle and studied me as if I were a rare flower—slightly wilted, but still recoverable.

My brothers, Rome and France, stood nearby smelling faintly of car leather and peppermint gum. Kuya Sphere remained quiet, holding little Hannah carefully against his chest.

They all looked so capable.

So... normal.

And then I broke again.

Because I am not.

"I don't want to go back," I whispered.

The room stiffened.

"I mean— I do want to go back. To school. Please. Just until I finish high school."

"Miexha," Grandpapa said calmly, "that is not up for discussion."

"It's too dangerous," Mommy added, already tapping instructions into her wristpad.

"Sweetheart, you don't understand what people are capable of outside these walls. You could be—" Mama's voice trembled. "—taken."

"But I promise not to reveal who I am," I insisted.

Mama Sarah knelt beside my bed, smoothing her palm over mine.

"You are not like other girls," she said gently. "Your name carries weight. Your background invites danger. And your body... is delicate."

"I know," I whispered, tears slipping past despite my effort. "I'm not asking for a tour. I only want to sit in a classroom. With other students."

Silence settled over the room.

"I just want to feel alive," I continued, my voice trembling. "Even if it is difficult. Even if it is only for a little while."

No one answered.

So I pressed on.

"If I spend my entire life locked inside beautiful rooms in the mansion, protected from everything... then what is the purpose of surviving?"

I wiped my nose clumsily against my sleeve—an unladylike act that would have horrified my etiquette tutor.

My ears buzzed faintly. The fever must have returned.

Soon, the arguing began outside my hospital room.

"She'll get worse."
"She already is worse."
"It's not safe."
"It's her wish."