Chapter 3

"What are you saying, you idiot! How did you let her notice your stalking?"

He bent down and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but there was someone else behind us, and I didn't want him to see me chasing her. I had to hurry, and that's when she noticed me."

"Someone else? Was he following you?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, sir, he was after her. I don't know who he is yet, but I'm checking on him."

A wide smile appeared on his face: "You don't have to; I already know who he is. Just never lose sight of her; I want to know her every move."

Rina

Karen shook her head: "Then I'm going home alone from now on."

"Not always, I'm not going to go teach her every day..." Murphy interrupted me. He suddenly approached, and I turned back automatically before he placed a piece of candy in my hand.

She looked at him in astonishment: "What is this?"

His eyebrows furrowed: "Isn't it your favorite?"

Yes, but why would you give it to me?

"I don't know, maybe you'll eat it," he replied, pretending to think.

I answered angrily: "Stop the sarcasm, take it back, I don't want it."

He put it back with a laugh: "It doesn't contain drugs, I swear." Then he returned to his seat without allowing me to say anything.

I looked to the other side and found Karen resting her face on her hand, watching me with a strange look.

"What?"

She smiled softly: "Nothing, I just thought I saw lovebirds for a second."

I stood up excitedly: "What the hell are you babbling about!"

She laughed sarcastically: "Don't get nervous, he'll notice you."

"I will find someone else to sit next to," I said as I walked away.

Why would Murphy suddenly do something like this? I hate situations like this; they make me feel stupid because I never know how to handle them...

Melina poked her head out of one of the cars parked in the school parking lot: "Rina, I'm here."

I walked toward the car, and as soon as I approached, a man in his late forties—a little heavy-set with light hair and a friendly laugh—turned toward us and greeted us cheerfully.

"Nice to meet you. You have been Miss Melina's constant topic of conversation for a while; I'm glad to see you at last."

"Don't exaggerate, it was only once or twice," Melina said, embarrassed.

He replied, laughing: "Don't believe her. I used to hear her talk about you every day and ask the young master to make sure."

I was going to ask Melina about the "young master," but she cut me off excitedly: "Anyway, it's the first time in a while I've been excited about studying. I think we'll have fun, and I'll also show you my room."

The car pulled away, and I looked out the window, watching the road. I was feeling a little nervous—am I going to meet a lot of people at her house? She had insisted we go straight after school, so I was still in my school uniform. I bet my hair looked like a wild cloud flying around me; should I really introduce myself to them in such a horrible sight?

The car made its way down a lane full of trees. The long road, seemingly surrounded by a forest, caught my attention. No houses appeared for quite some time, until a large, elegant yet old-looking gate came into view, showing signs of recent restoration. As we approached, the gate opened to reveal a huge, magnificent house that felt like something out of a medieval palace. Two huge men stood behind the gate as guards. I opened my mouth in awe, taking in its elegant details.

We got out, and another car was parked nearby. A young man who looked familiar stepped out, and Melina ran toward him with joy: "You're back at last!"

He turned and hugged Melina, and I gasped in shock as I realized who he was. A sentence slipped from my lips involuntarily: "What are you doing here?"

He looked up at me, seeming to have just noticed my presence: "Rina!"

Melina looked between us: "Do you know each other?"

We answered at the same time: "Yes." Then he added, "It's my home."

Your home? Are you relatives? I asked in amazement, gesturing toward them.

Melina replied, "Yes, he's my cousin—or rather, my mother's cousin."

She turned to him and continued, "Rina has been my private tutor starting today."

My mind raced for a moment. So he's Melina's cousin, and they live in the same house, but why didn't he tell me earlier? Is it possible he didn't notice my friendship with Melina for a whole year? That didn't make sense, especially when I saw the driver salute him and call him "Young master"—which meant he was the very person Melina had spoken to me about.

Of course, there had to be a reason he kept it a secret.

Suddenly, I remembered something. I put my hand on my hip, approached him, and stared at him suspiciously: "Did you transfer to another school?"

He blinked several times before replying, "No, I was traveling and just came back today. I'll be back at school tomorrow."

I sighed in relief: "Good, I thought I lost my classmate to some wandering phase."

He smiled: "I would never abandon my class and my friends."

I laughed at his dramatic comment.

Melina took me on a short tour of the house's beautiful garden, which Alex had excused himself from, claiming he was tired from traveling. In a way, I found his reaction unnatural; he was deeply surprised by my presence here, perhaps shocked by the sudden collision between his private life—which he always kept far away from his friends—and reality. I decided I would try my best not to pry too much or dig into his personal life.

Melina had told me beforehand that after her parents divorced, she lived with a number of relatives—I remembered her saying more than ten—but I hadn't expected them to be her great-grandfather's family, which was Alex's family. This estate must be part of their family heritage.

"It's good that you all live together," Melina said after we sat down on a garden swing. "I've always wished for a house full of people and commotion—the usual bickering between siblings over chores or the TV controller, things you only realize are valuable when you don't have them."

In a way, she was right. Having people around in this house probably helped her get through her turmoil, but as she knew, our house wasn't like the dream homes people imagine; sometimes, the people around you are the problem itself.

I shook my head in understanding. Melina's struggles weren't just about her parents' divorce or her separation from her father; they stemmed from an entirely new, overwhelming environment. I suspected the root of the problem was her grandfather, of whom I was already forming an unflattering image before even meeting him—especially since he had insisted I come to her house for tutoring because she wasn't allowed to go out much.

A girl in uniform, evidently a servant, approached respectfully: "Miss Melina, dinner is ready, and everyone is waiting for you at the table."

I raised an eyebrow. Waiting for you? Does that mean I have to go in and sit with them?

Melina looked at me as if she read my thoughts and told the maid, "We've decided to study in the garden, so could you bring our food out here?"

The maid looked troubled: "But, Miss, Mister..."

Melina cut her off: "It's fine, I have a guest."

The maid hesitated for a moment before leaving respectfully.

A few minutes later, a man approached. You could sense his prestige and dignity just by looking at him: silver hair, hazel eyes whose wrinkles couldn't hide their sharpness, dressed in elegant formal attire.

He spoke with a hint of humor, though his firm tone was unmistakable: "So you're Rina, the one who caused all that fuss."

I stood up instinctively, trying to explain what he meant, and Melina did the same, starting with, "Grandfather..."

She fell silent when he glanced at her.

So this was her grandfather; he truly fit the grandeur of this house.

He continued, extending his hand: "I'm Marcos, Melina's grandfather and the owner of this house."

Why do I feel like he's showing off his belongings? Still, something like this was worth bragging about.

I shook his hand in return: "Hello, Mr. Marcos. As you know, I'm Rina, Melina's tutor."

He smiled: "Actually, I've been longing to meet you after hearing Melina talk about you. I was disappointed when you refused my invitation to come inside and dine with us, but upon reflection, I realized I should have invited you myself instead of sending a messenger. Now, you'll accept my invitation, won't you?"

I couldn't find a polite way to refuse, so I simply smiled and went with him in defeat.

The interior design of the building mirrored the exterior, giving an impression of deep antiquity, while the sophisticated furniture added a touch of modern elegance. We entered a massive dining room featuring a long table, at the head of which sat Mr. Marcos. Several other family members greeted me—none of whom I knew, except for Alex.

"Take your seats," Mr. Marcos said firmly. "Let's eat before the food gets cold."

Everyone yielded to his command instantly, and I realized that in this house, Mr. Marcos's word was law.

I sat next to Melina, noticing her mother, Mrs. Clark, sitting nearby. I greeted her silently with a nod.

I picked up my fork and cast a quick, nervous glance around the table. Most people were engrossed in their meals, though a few curious glances drifted my way. I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, eating nervously.

Just then, someone passed by the doorway of the dining room, and Mr. Marcos's voice rang out: "Won't you join us? Show some respect for the table."

The person approached the door. I looked up, and as I did, I dropped my fork involuntarily. My eyes widened, my breath hitched, and my heart pounded violently. I couldn't believe it—was he one of Melina's relatives too?

At that moment, I realized one thing: this house was hiding far more secrets than I could have ever imagined.

Rina POV

I feel strange...

Walking to school alone, the path feels much longer. I hate it when Karen is away; even though she just caught a cold, my day feels utterly boring without her.

I shook my head to clear away the thoughts, and my eyes fell upon a young man walking in the opposite direction, wearing a sports cap and headphones, his brow furrowed sharply while his brown eyes wandered.

The moment I looked at him, I felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation—as if a hand had reached out, touched my heart, and squeezed it...

I quickly averted my eyes as he drew closer so he wouldn't notice me staring. But as he passed me, I caught his reflection in a store window: he had turned and was looking back at me. I didn't dare turn around to meet his gaze. I felt a rush of nervousness at that moment, just like every time I remembered this encounter—an uncharacteristic, unforgettable feeling that had preoccupied my mind for days. I still couldn't explain it, but I was certain there was a reason behind it.