Scarlett Rose was always that kind of girl who never gave up easily. If she wanted something, she would work day and night for it until she got it. People around her always said she had her mother's determination — and her smile too.
She was studying architecture at MIT, one of the toughest and most respected universities. Her classmates used to joke that she was "the professor's favorite" because of how perfect her models and designs always turned out. But what they didn't know was that Scarlett spent nights awake sketching, adjusting, and starting over again and again.
Architecture wasn't just a subject for her — it was her way of feeling close to her mom, who used to love old buildings and dreamt of visiting Italy one day.
Her mother had passed away four years ago in a car accident. Even now, Scarlett still remembered that day clearly — the flashing red lights, the hospital smell, her dad trying to hold himself together while she stood there numb. That memory hurt, but it also kept her strong. Every time she felt tired, she told herself, "Do it for Mom."
Her dad, David Rose, worked in a small cake shop in Massachusetts. It wasn't a big place, but it was warm and smelled like sugar and vanilla all the time. He always said baking cakes was his way of keeping life sweet after everything they had lost.
One chilly evening, Scarlett came home after a long day of classes. The sun was already setting, painting the sky orange and pink. She opened their old wooden mailbox, not expecting much. There was the usual pile of letters — bills, advertisements — and one envelope that made her heart skip a beat.
It had a red wax seal on it. The words "Università di Bologna" were printed neatly at the top.
For a second, she just stood there staring. Then her hands started shaking as she tore it open.
"Dear Miss Scarlett Rose,
Congratulations! You have been selected for the Master's Program in Architecture at the University of Bologna, Italy."
Her eyes went wide. She blinked twice, as if making sure she wasn't imagining it. She got in.
Her professor, Dr. Andrew garcia, had written a recommendation letter for her, saying she had "exceptional vision and creativity." Scarlett had smiled when he said that, thinking he was just being kind. But now… it was real.
She actually got in.
She held the letter tightly against her chest, her heart racing. "Mom, I did it," she whispered softly.
When she stepped inside, her dad was busy in the kitchen, frosting a cake. His apron was dusted with flour, and there was a bit on his cheek too. He looked up, smiling tiredly. "Hey, sweetheart. Long day?"
Scarlett couldn't stop grinning. She held up the letter. "Dad. Look."
He wiped his hands and took it carefully, his eyes scanning the words. It took a few seconds before he looked up, his eyes already wet. "You got in?"
Scarlett nodded, biting her lip. "I did. I really did, Dad."
David laughed a little, but it came out shaky. "Your mom would be so proud of you, Scarlett."
She hugged him tightly, feeling his shoulders tremble. He didn't say much, but that moment said everything.
Later that night, he made her favorite — vanilla ice cake, the one her mom used to bake for every birthday. The smell filled the kitchen, and for the first time in years, the house didn't feel lonely.
They sat together, eating and laughing about small things. Scarlett told him about the architecture workshops in Italy, the famous old buildings she wanted to see, and how nervous she felt about living so far away.
Her dad smiled, though his eyes looked a little sad. "Promise me one thing," he said quietly.
"What?"
"Don't lose yourself there. I know you'll do great, but remember who you are — my little girl who never gave up on anything."
Scarlett smiled, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I promise, Dad."
That night, when she went to her room, she placed the acceptance letter on her desk. She looked out the window at the night sky. Somewhere far away, across oceans, was Italy — the place her mom had dreamed of visiting, and now the place where Scarlett's new chapter would begin.
She imagined walking through the cobblestone streets, sketchbook in hand, surrounded by old cathedrals and breathtaking architecture. And for a brief second, she thought of someone from her past — a boy with messy dark hair and a quiet smile. Nicolas Volkov.
Her childhood neighbor, her first crush. The boy who used to walk her to school, who made her laugh when she cried.
But he was gone now. His family had moved away when she was twelve. All she knew was that they'd settled somewhere in Italy.
"Probably just coincidence," she murmured to herself. But somehow, her heart gave a strange little twist.
She shook her head, smiling softly. "It's been ten years, Scarlett. Don't be silly."
Still, as she turned off the light and lay down, she couldn't help but wonder what happened to him. Was he happy? Did he ever think of her?
Maybe, just maybe, fate was waiting for her in Italy — in the same country that once took him away.
And she didn't know it yet, but destiny was already preparing their next meeting.