Aurelia Valente woke to the smell of warm pancakes and the soft humming of her mother downstairs.
Sunlight spilled across her bedroom floor, turning the wooden boards golden, almost glittering—like the world itself was trying to celebrate her.
Today was her 10th birthday.
She jumped out of bed, her long dark hair bouncing behind her, and ran down the stairs where her father was waiting with a tiny cake topped with ten pink candles.
"Happy birthday, princess," he said, kissing the top of her head.
Her mother wrapped her in a gentle hug, whispering, "Make a wish, Aurelia."
Aurelia squeezed her eyes shut and whispered in her heart:
I hope nothing ever changes.
I hope we can stay like this forever.
She blew out the candles with a wide, innocent smile.
They planned to go to a theme park to have fun on Aurelia's birthday.
They laughed together. They ate together. They drove together—singing to her favorite song as her father started the car. Aurelia pressed her face to the window, watching the bright city blur past them.
Everything felt warm. Safe. Perfect.
Her last perfect memory.
The world changed in a single sound.
A blare of a horn.
A sudden swerve.
Her mother's scream.
Her father's hand reaching back toward her—
The crushing roar of metal.
Then nothing.
Aurelia woke to darkness.
Not the comforting kind she knew, but a heavy, cold emptiness.
Something was over her face—an oxygen mask. Her body felt weightless, her head pounding. Machines beeped somewhere far away. The air smelled like disinfectant and loneliness.
She blinked slowly.
White ceiling.
Hospital lights.
Silence.
Where were her parents?
Her heartbeat trembled as she whispered, barely a breath, "Mom…? Dad…?"
No one answered.
Instead, a soft voice came from the doorway.
"Aurelia…?"
A man stepped inside—a stranger with silver hair and dark eyes. His suit was black, immaculate, too formal for a hospital room. His expression was unreadable, stern yet unsure… as though he was someone who did not know how to comfort children.
She had seen him only in pictures.
A name her parents rarely spoke.
He knelt slowly beside her bed.
"I am… your grandfather. Don Valente."
Aurelia stared at him, her lips trembling.
"Where… where are Mom and Dad?"
For the first time, the frighteningly powerful Don couldn't hide the grief in his eyes.
He exhaled.
"Aurelia… they didn't survive."
Something inside her collapsed—like glass shattering into a thousand pieces.
Her breath hitched.
Her chest tightened.
"No… no… no!" she cried, shaking her head as tears poured down her cheeks. "They said nothing would happen! They said— they said—"
She broke.
Her grandfather reached out, awkwardly placing a hand on her shoulder. The gesture was stiff, unfamiliar, but meant to be comforting.
"You are not alone," he said quietly. "You will come live with me now."
But the words slipped through her pain like water.
Her world—her family—was gone.
On the day she turned ten.
And nothing, absolutely nothing, would ever be the same again.