When Roses bleed

THE THORN BOND

The smell of dry soil filled the one-room house as rain pounded on the rusty roof. Maya sat on the edge of her tiny bed – if you could call a thin mattress on the cold floor a bed – tightly hugging her knees closely to her chest. She could hear her parents throwing utensils at each other and arguing while heading outside again, voices muffled but sharp like pieces of broken glass.

Money. It was always about money.

"Maya," her father called gently a moment later, his tone soft despite the tension. "Come here, my little princess."

She wiped her cheeks quickly, forcing a smile as she stepped outside. The rain had eased down, and her father stood under the old chicken house, his eyes tired but slightly watery. He crouched to her level, smoothing a strand of wet hair from her beautiful face.

"You know what," he said, when I was as little as you are, I always dreamed of seeing big buildings, city cars and streetlights, people who wore suits… One day, you’ll get to see all that. And you’ll have everything I could ever provide you with.

Maya nodded slightly, though she didn't quite understand. She just wanted her father to stop looking so worried all the time.

That was the last evening she remembered him speaking happily.

Five days later, he was gone. They said it was an accident at work. Slipped from the hundredth floor to the ground. No witnesses. No compensation. Her mother wept like a child until she had no tears left to drop anymore, and then came the homeowner knocking with a notice in his hand and pity in his eyes.

By nightfall, Maya and her mother were left on the street with neither food nor money.

Ten Years Later

The smell of dry soil was long replaced by the sweet scent of expensive wine and perfumes. Maya stood in front of the mirror in the staff dressing room of The Silver Crest, the most luxurious seven-star restaurant in the entire city. Her blue uniform hugged her curvy figure perfectly, her hair tied neatly into a bun style. She looked...different, confident, untouchable and beautiful. At least on the outside. Inside, the scars and wounds of the past still burnt fresh

.

"Maya, you’re on table seven," the manager's voice snapped her back to reality. "VIP guests, don't mess it up."

She nodded, faking the polite smile she had mastered over the years, took the tray and majestically walked into the golden-lit dining hall, her heels tapping quietly on the innocent floor.

Table seven: two guests, a woman and a man. The man's back was to her, broad shoulders in an expensive blue suit. The woman alongside him had the type of beauty that made other women even feel pity for themselves or invisible.

"Good evening," Maya greeted politely, lowering her tray. "Would you like to see the menu list, or shall I bring—"

The man turned to look at her

.

She drew in a sharp breath, and her heart started racing with disbelief.

How could it be?

The blond hair, the piercing blue eyes – older now, but still memorable. And then, just above his left wrist, she noticed a small scar that was barely visible.

Her fingers twitched, almost on their own, toward her right wrist, where a matching scar lay hidden beneath her sleeve. The torn bush. That day in his family's endless garden. They were just kids, laughing until they tripped, crashing into the thorns, pain and giggles tangled together.

"Maya?"

Her name slipped out of his lips, soft but stunned.

She froze, forcing her fake smile to remain professional. "I'm sorry, sir," she said politely. "You must be mistaken."

The woman beside him lifted a perfectly shaped brow, looping her arm possessively through his. "Darling, do you know her?"

He hesitated. "I…… I think so. From a long time ago."

"Hmm," the woman replied dismissively, turning back to her phone with her other hand still looped.

Maya's heart pounded hard in her chest, but she lifted her chin. "Enjoy your evening," she said, walking away without looking backward. Once she entered the kitchen hallway. She let out a sharp breath and leaned against the wall.

Liam.

His name echoed in her mind like a ghost from the past she had buried. Her only childhood friend. The boy who shared his toys, who once gave her the last piece of pizza from his lunchbox, whose father…

Her chest was constructed.

His father, the man who employed her. The man whose company blamed her father for his own tragic death, leaving them with nothing.

And now here Liam was, handsome and rich like his father once was. "I bet the company and all the illegal activities are under him now," she murmured to her. Fate had a way of bringing things to life; here Liam was, in her life again, walking straight into it with a woman on his arm and a smile she no longer recognized.

She gripped her hands tightly.

She has spent many years of her life building herself up, becoming strong, untouchable and independent. She wasn’t that helpless little girl she was before.

But why did one look from him threaten to unravel it all?

And why did she suddenly have the feeling that the story of her father's tragic death wasn’t over?

She reached for her neck, trying to calm herself down, just to realize the presence of the locket around her neck – the only thing of her father's she had left – and, for the very first time in months since he died, she whispered his name in the darkness.

"Papa……"

It trembled on her lips like a prayer glued to her mouth no one would hear.

And then she recalled everything – clearly as if it had just happened last night. The night before, her father died. A tall man in a black hood appeared on their doorstep. Not a family member or a friend, but he claimed to know her father and wanted to talk to him. Since her father ordered them not to let anyone in, they had no choice but to snub the guy.

The next morning…he was gone.

Her breath shortened, and her pulse quickened.

What had her father been hiding?