Reborn Again To Marry My Enemy's Son

“Here you go, I added an extra tip just for you,” Mrs Morgana says, smiling as she hands over a paycheck to Francesco Rossi. “Thank you, Mrs Morgana’’ Mrs Morgana smiles in return, allowing for the wrinkles on her head to show. Her eyes are mixed with concern and pity for Francesca, who gets on her bike smiling so jovially, you’ll think she won the lottery. To her, she just did. Her boyfriend, Carlos, had one dream, to go to Rowland college, an Ivy League university. It was his biggest dream and somehow, he had convinced Francesca to pay his tuition. Francesca, naïve and blindly in love, gave up her scholarship and started working three different jobs to send her boyfriend to his dream school. Unknown to her, his parents had already paid for his tuition. Which he squandered on partying and clubbing, which led to his parents kicking him out. Also, why he had now moved in with Francesca in her rundown apartment. Francesca hits the brakes as she reaches her apartment building, the tires screech loudly and a profound amount of black smoke fumes out of the exhaust. Every other person would be worried if that was their bike, but not Francesca. The most important thing now wasn’t her bike but her boyfriend’s tuition. She climbs up numerous stairs so long, you’ll wonder how she didn’t pass out. Unfortunately, the building's elevator is broken. It has been for some months now and the homeowner has promised to fix it. But everyone in that building knows how much of a liar the man is. The only thing he cares about Is money and himself and that is why his house in on the first floor. As she opens the door of her apartment, a pungent smell hits her, it’s a mixture of mold and spoiled food. Her apartment is a complete mess. The kitchen is filled with unwashed dishes and a blocked sink for the 13th time this week. The living room is decorated with dirty clothes and lying on every part of the living room are empty snack bags. Francesca likes her environment clean, but Carlos, spoiled and pampered, doesn’t know how to clean after himself. So Francesca has had to do it for the past three months since he moved in. She is about to do so again, when a noise from the bedroom catches her attention. She brushes it off as Carlos playing one of his video games. She drops her bag on the kitchen counter and just as she is about to continue cleaning, she sees a skirt, one that she could never afford. Then a tank top one that she would never buy, as she always buys clothes that are twice her size. As she approaches the bedroom, she catches sight of a bracelet, one that she handcrafted herself for no other than her best friend. At this point the tears that had welled up in her eyes could probably fit a well. She storms open the door and there, before her eyes, she sees Sofia and Carlos on her bed. “How could you do this to me!’’ she yells as she pokes her finger at the unmoved Carlos who had stood up to meet her. “Look Franky’’ he calls her in the nickname she had always loved to hear but not right now, now she hated that name. “This kind of stuff happens okay, so don’t be overdramatic’’ he adds trying to touch her shoulder. “Dramatic?’’ she asks rhetorically “I gave up my scholarship, took you in and have been working 3 frustrating jobs just to send you to school. But you? you have been here lazing around, eating my food and now sleeping with my best friend. Yet you have the guts to tell me I’m being dramatic? how dare you!’’ she says as she continues to hit Carlos, but he pushes her to the ground. “Francesca, you can’t expect Carlos to stay committed to someone who can’t even take care of themselves’’ Sofia says in a mocking tone. Francesca had never put in effort into looking good. She felt it was irrelevant as she had more important things to spend money on ‘Carlos’. Now she was being mocked for it. “You were saying something about my tuition, do you have it” Carlos says unmoved. Francesca gets up angrily, picks up the checkbook and slams it into Carlos’s chest. “Carlos Ferrari, I am giving you this money so I can have a clear conscience. After that, we are done. By the time I come back I want you and your things out of my house!” Francesca says her voice cracking from both pain and anger. Teardrops roll down uncontrollably though Francesca tries to hold her tears, not wanting to break any further before the duo. Francesca sits at the bus stop. The sound of the beer can opening brings her a strange wave of happiness. “I must be crazy from this heartbreak,’’ she says laughing hysterically at herself. She begins to gulp down the beer in such a way that you would think she had lived in a desert for a lifetime. Some drops escape her mouth and roll down her chin. People at the bus stop stare at her with disgust and some with pity. The bus arrives and the people get on the bus and she scoffs at them. “Haven’t they seen someone with heartbreak trying to drink their sorrows away before?” she says drunkenly, already half tipsy. As she continues to drink, she catches sight of her reflection and tears well up in her eyes. “Is this really what I look like?” she looks at her worn-out shoes, her frizzy hair and completely out-of-date outfit. Her skirt was so long that it could probably sweep the whole city and an oversized sweater that probably only pregnant people wear. “I was so focused on that jerk that I let go of myself. Now see where I am.’’ Francesca had always bought bigger clothes as they would last her for a longer time, and she could afford what Carlos wanted. She begins to cry so seriously that you would think her life was about to end. I really did prioritize Carlos. Just then a voice catches her attention: “Miss Francesca Rossi?” A man who looked like he had just stepped out from a romance novel, steps out of a luxury car one Francesca was sure she had never seen in her life. Who is this man and how does he know my name? Francesca wonders to herself.