Heart of stone

The first rays of the sun gently filtered into the small house, caressing the worn walls of Livia's bedroom. She slept deeply, her peaceful face contrasting with the harshness of her daily reality. The touch of the sun on her skin slowly woke her up, prompting her to stretch long, yawn, and then jump up. The golden light danced in the room, revealing an organized mess: cookbooks, hastily folded clothes, and a small cracked mirror reflecting her tired image. Glancing at her phone, she saw that it was already 6 AM. No time to waste.

There were chores waiting for her, tasks to accomplish to survive. Each day was a struggle.

She headed to the small window of her room, a gesture that had become a ritual. Through the glass, she looked at the gigantic house across the street. It was a majestic dwelling, with balconies adorned with colorful flowers and walls painted a bright cream color. Through the window, she caught glimpses of silhouettes inside, sitting at the dining table, having breakfast peacefully. The smell of coffee and toast seemed to float in the air, and her heart tightened at the sight of this scene. She saw herself in their place, savoring a worry-free morning, without having to think about what would happen next.

- Eat as much as you can, but don't forget that one day I will come back to reclaim what belongs to me, she thought, clenching her fists. The memory of her parents and the home they had lost still haunted her. But one day, she would reclaim what was rightfully hers. She was certain of it.

Lost in her thoughts, Livia didn't immediately notice the vibration of her phone. She answered without looking at who was calling, a habit she had acquired over time.

- Paulo, I'll join you in a moment. I just woke up, let me be for a bit.

- It seems that Queen Livia doesn't remember what day it is today. But well, good morning to you too and... happy birthday! he replied, teasingly.

Livia rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips.

- Nonsense. I told you I never celebrate my birthday. I didn't even know it was today, she murmured, a slight shiver of despair crossing her mind.

- In that case, you should thank me, because I think I'm the first to wish you that, he insisted, still cheerful.

- Thanks anyway, even if I didn't ask you to do it, she replied, a slight smile grazing her lips despite herself. Paulo's tone, although light, was filled with sincerity.

- I'll do it as long as you're near me. Listen, you're not going to hold it against life, are you? It's your birthday, we have to celebrate it! he said enthusiastically, trying to break through Livia's shell.

Livia closed her eyes for a moment, her heart heavy. She had never been one to celebrate her birthday. Not when she felt that everything had been taken from her, that life had stolen what she believed she was entitled to.

- I will never celebrate my birthday as long as my adversaries enjoy my father's money, while I have to work like a slave to meet my needs, she said in a cold voice, her words filled with bitterness.

Paulo remained silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging heavily between them. Then, in a calmer voice, he replied:

- You and I both know it's impossible for your uncle to drop this matter. He will never give you your inheritance. So forget it.

- Do you realize? she replied bitterly. I understand that you are very poor, that you're not used to these sacrifices, but you don't know what it feels like. It's easy to talk when you have nothing to lose.

- I know you're suffering, Livia. But you can't keep going like this. Life isn't fair, but you can't control everything. You have to move forward. For you. For your future. I will be there for you, no matter what, you know that, he said, his tone filled with sincerity, trying to convey a bit of hope to her.

She let herself fall onto her bed, a heavy silence settling between them. She didn't want to hear that, but a part of her knew he was right. Life would not stop, and she had to move on.

- Thank you, Paulo, she finally murmured, calmer. I will try. But I promise nothing.

- Alright, alright, miss, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Today is your birthday, so you better come here as soon as possible because I have a gift for you, Paolo said, his tone lighter but with a hint of teasing.

- Alright, Paolo, I'll come, but I don't want to hear you sing "Happy Birthday," or you'll get a punch in the stomach, Livia replied, smiling despite herself, her mind relaxing a bit.

- Understood, I wouldn't want you to punch me in the stomach, so I won't sing; I'll just give you your gift silently.

- Good boy, then let me get ready, I'll join you in a few minutes, she said, amused by their exchange.

She hung up, then stared at her phone on the small table for a moment, her eyes turning to the large house across the street. The house, the very one that belonged to her, the inheritance her father had left her before he died. But her uncle, greedy and cruel, had taken possession of everything, chasing her from the family home since she was five years old. Since then, Livia had lived in poverty, alone, fighting every day to survive.

She remembered the days when she wandered from house to house, asking for a bit of bread or a little water. Her father's house, though full of riches and treasures, had become a symbol of pain and injustice. She often watched others through the windows of her little shack, seeing them eat hearty meals, live normal lives, while she settled for dreaming of a better life.

Her memory took her back to those moments when she sat on the steps of the entrance of the family home, watching children play in the garden, their laughter echoing like a reminder of what she had lost. She had never set foot in school, never known the warmth of a real family. When she fell ill, it was to her uncle that she turned, but he showed no mercy. He forced her to work even harder, to do household chores in exchange for a bit of money for her care. That was the only way for her to survive.

But deep down, Livia knew that all of this would end one day. She was growing up, and with age came understanding. She vowed that one day, she would reclaim everything that belonged to her. She would do everything in her power to recover her father's inheritance and restore her name.

After these thoughts, she got up, determined. She headed to the small kitchen, quickly prepared something to eat-a simple slice of bread with a bit of butter, a luxury she rarely allowed herself. Each bite was a reminder of her childhood, of moments when she was surrounded by laughter and warmth. She went to the bathroom, mentally preparing to face the day. A cold shower to wake up, refresh, and prepare for what awaited her. She washed her hands, looked at herself in the mirror, and took a deep breath.

Once ready, she put on her worn jacket, grabbed her backpack where she had slipped a few essential items, and left her shack. The fresh morning air whipped her face, a sweet promise of renewal. She hailed a taxi, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension, and got in, her gaze fixed on the future.