Allana

My name is Allana Trindade, and tomorrow I'll turn 18 years old, and I want to share how my life has been an ongoing struggle. I live in the United States, in New York City, to be precise.

At the tender age of 8, I lost my parents in a car crash. They had left me with a nanny to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Before they departed, they kissed me goodnight and promised a second kiss when they returned home. So splendidly dressed were they that if I shut my eyes, I can still envision their attire from that night.

I awaited their return for my second kiss, but when their death was announced, my aunts and uncles converged at my parents' home and resolved to take me in. Thanks to a substantial inheritance left by my father, their intents were clear: live off someone else's fortune without concern. Who wouldn't want that, right?

All they needed to do was to keep the business from bankruptcy.

At 10, I contracted bacterial meningitis. The doctors managed to treat me, but it left residual effects, including the loss of hair cells in my inner ear. I am profoundly deaf now, but I can still speak and sometimes lip-read, though it requires my utmost concentration.

My aunts and uncles brought me to the physician who informed us it was irreversible. I had to learn sign language through a private instructor, but I was responsible for most of my own learning. They showed no interest in it to communicate with me.

Yet again, I find myself in solitude. I got acquainted with loneliness after my parents' demise, and my life has merely spiraled downward ever since.

Thankfully, I can still speak. I'm not mute, but people need to use sign language or write on paper to communicate with me, as few are versed in sign language. This can be somewhat irritating since I must constantly request people to help me understand, which frustrates me, despite my typically serene nature. But it occasionally wears on my patience.

By age 15, under my aunts and uncles' stewardship, my father's hard-built perfume business declared bankruptcy. Our wealth turned to ruins overnight.

Until then, I was doted upon by them. But as the funds dwindled, I turned into a burden, and that's when the mistreatment and assaults began. Every day brought new torments.

I couldn't endure it, and at 16, I decided to run away from home. Now, I reside on the streets, in a small square, to be exact.

Here, you meet all sorts, but I befriended a kind family: a couple and their 3-year-old son, Marcelo, Bia, and Noah. I help them earn money and also watch their baby.

We buy candy and sell it at traffic lights. The money we earn goes towards purchasing more candy, and the remainder buys food. We receive clothing as gifts, and Bia and I nearly share the same size, so our wardrobes are practically identical.

I usually bathe in a nearby lake, but occasionally we manage to shower at an inn—only when the owner is absent, as we'd be expelled and beaten if caught.

Since I can't hear, they communicate with me through gestures or by enunciating slowly for me to lip-read. It's often quite amusing and even makes me laugh.

Now, I'm at the traffic lights selling candy. A lavish car stops, and when I offer the sweets, the driver looks at me sternly.

Such a mood... it's downright infectious.

He says something, and I gesture I'm deaf. He rolls his eyes and shuts the window in my face.

What a fool, he has no clue what he's missing. No one sells sweets as delicious as mine on this Earth.

I finish the day with money in my pocket and an empty candy packet. Not being foolish, I often pretend to cry, disclosing my deafness, and it compels people to buy simply to assist me. I know it's wrong, but why not use it to my advantage?

I hand all the cash to Marcelo, who beams and combines it with Bia's to restock on candy and food.

I lie down on a blanket spread over the grass, unbothered by sleeping under the starry sky roof. With the captivating view, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

I'm awakened by Bia gently shaking me. It's bright out, though it feels quite early. I grab the candy and head to the lake for a quick bath to freshen up.

Today marks my 18th birthday; I'm an adult, at least in age.

I cleanse swiftly, slipping into the water in just my underwear, and after donning my dress, I wriggle back into my bra and panties without fully exposing myself. One may be poor but never "rotten," haha.

Running my fingers through my hair suffices as a comb. I head back to the lights to sell my candy.

Once again, that same arrogant man in his distasteful-colored car is there. I refuse to be humiliated again, so I ignore him. Yet, I notice he's stopped his vehicle and seems to be ill, gasping for air.

I'm not that cold-hearted and move closer to see if he requires assistance. He looks at me, eyes wide, desperate for air, and I feel compassion. Opening his car door, I remove his seatbelt and mime deep breathing instructions. Instead, he grips my hand tightly.

Trying to get attention, I signal for help, but the bystanders ignore the plea. Panic starts to set in, scared he might die and that it'll seem like I'm to blame.

I run to the opposite side and spot a police car across the street. Approaching, I cry out.

"Officer, I need help; there's a man over there struggling to breathe, and I don't know what to do." He begins to speak, but I cut him off. "Sorry, sir, I'm deaf; I can only talk."

They nod and rush to aid the man.

Reaching him, they find him nearly unconscious. The officers pull him out and start resuscitative maneuvers.

He begins to recover, slumped against his car. His gaze seems thankful, at least that's how it appeared at that moment.

An ambulance arrives, and he clutches my hand, motioning for me to accompany him. But I can't go. One of the officers uses sign language, asking me to join him, and I can't refuse.

I ask them to inform Bia and Marcelo, describing their appearances, and the officers just nod in response. I climb into the ambulance, holding the hand of this once scornful man.

DOMINIC

My name is Dominic Bernardes, I am 28 years old, and I own a globally known cosmetics company chain. Currently, I am in the United States, in New York, to seek treatment for a serious respiratory disease.

I was born with breathing problems, spent more time in a hospital as a child than at home, which made me perpetually irritable, and I grew up exactly that way, grumpy. And I don't care if people like me or not, I want everyone who doesn't to go to hell.

As I grew older, the problems got worse. Despite taking medications, often the shortness of breath is so intense, I have to go to the hospital and stay in that prison for days.

This is extremely annoying because I am still young and have a very promising life ahead. I can't afford to be hospitalized because I have various companies to run. Even with partners and vice presidents, I have to go the extra mile, as I am the one who resolves most issues. There are documents that only I can sign.

I do some physical exercises, mostly light gym workouts. My doctor said it's helpful, and it really has been helping a bit. I hired a private doctor and have a hospital wing in the back of my house. If I get sick in the middle of the night, I just go there and wait for the doctor. It's also more comfortable than being in a hospital.

This wing is usually locked up tight. Only when I need to use it, I have Rosa or Maria clean inside so I can settle in. But it's been a while since I've been there.

I hate hospitals. I spent my childhood there, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the same way. I want to be a normal man, and I never will be there. It seems I get sicker when I'm there.

I'm a womanizer; I love beautiful, obedient women who satisfy my desires. But as a CEO, I need to marry. However, it has to be to a woman who doesn't nag, who doesn't bother me because I'm not a one-woman man; I like to change it up.

And the woman who marries me will inherit everything, from my money to the horns, without question.

But the problem is where to find such a woman, who even after inheriting everything, isn't so greedy as to want to be with me just for the money.

I start to investigate some families with failing businesses. Maybe a business marriage, without having to worry whether she likes me or not. I can carry on with my life as it has always been.

Then I find the Trindade family. The couple died and left a daughter in the care of her uncles, who blew the money left for the girl.

At least from the photos, the girl is very beautiful. So, I decide to try.

I have my secretary call her uncle here. Let's see if he accepts my proposal.

I schedule a meeting with him for the next day. But today, I still want to enjoy my bachelor life.

I go home just to change, put on some casual clothes and head to a brothel in town.

Beautiful women always please me; they make my life less miserable.

I choose my company carefully. I sit with her and pay for whatever she wants to drink, so she doesn't bicker later saying she won't do this or that. I like women who are up for everything.

I've already picked the woman for tonight, I just beckon her with a gesture, and she comes over swaying seductively and sits on my lap.

We drink our fill, and I take her to my house.

I throw her on the bed and quickly strip. I order her to perform oral, then I have her on all fours and go at it ruthlessly.

They always leave with wobbly legs. I like pushing women to the limit. Well, at least I go to my limit. I pay her an extra and send her away.

Before sleeping, I take an inhalation with the medicine prescribed by the doctor with saline, and as soon as it ends, I pass out.

In the morning, I wake up and do my routine. I put on my suit and head for the company. As expected, Mr. Roger is already waiting for me.

"Mr. Bernardes, this is the man you asked me to call yesterday."

"Great, come to my office" I command authoritatively.

He stands up and follows me.

"I called you here because I need a wife, and I see your family is bankrupt. I want to propose a deal."

"I'm listening, sir." he says, with a gleam in his eye.

"I want your niece in exchange for a reasonable sum set by you, but be careful with the amount, I'm not so foolish."

"I don't know where she is, sir. She ran away from home two years ago and has been wandering the streets."

"You blew through all her money and turned her into a homeless person? What kind of people are you?" I speak indignantly.

"The expenses were for her, sir." A lame excuse.

"Give me a break. If you had just invested part of the inheritance, she'd have enough to last until old age."

He lowers his head. That leeching son of a bitch, now I have to find another woman. I won't go looking for her; she's pretty but not worth my effort.

"We're done here, you can leave." I gesture dismissively with my hand.

"Don't you want to buy the company?"

"I don't invest my money in things that don't yield returns, and with you and your wife leeching off, I'd end up bankrupt too. So get out of here quick."

I speak authoritatively for him to catch on and leave immediately. This kind of person disgusts me, people who only want to receive without any effort.

I grab my car keys and leave. I need to look into other families to find my wife.

At the traffic light, I catch a glimpse of someone approaching, and when I look, I realize it's the Trindade daughter. It's her, offering me candy so kindly, even her smile is kind.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

I need to be sure it's her, but she signals that she's deaf. I can tell she's not the one, so I just roll up the car window, ignoring her further.

I arrive home and go look into other families, glancing once more at the girl's photo. And it's actually her, the girl from the traffic light. Could she be pretending to be deaf and mute just to earn more money?

I start to research her life, and I read that she had meningitis at age 10, which resulted in deafness.

On the one hand, it could be good since she wouldn't hear anything and couldn't interrupt my affairs.

In the morning, I wake up and drive by that traffic light to talk to her.

But before I can stop the car, I feel my breathing falter. Damn it, not now.

I open the gate; my gloves and medicine aren't there, not even my portable inhaler.

I look ahead, trying to breathe calmly. But with each passing day, I feel my end approaching, and soon I will die.

The girl approaches and quickly opens the car door, unlatching my seatbelt. I see she's quite frightened.

Why is she being kind to me when what I did to her yesterday was dismissive?

She calls for help from the police, and soon an ambulance arrives.

I hold her hand. I don't want to let it go. I want her to come with me, and she does.

She didn't abandon me, even without knowing me and despite me being rude to her. She's helping me.

She is going to be my wife, even if it's by force.

ALLANA

During the drive to the hospital, he didn't let go of my hand for even a minute. It's as if he glued it there, unrelenting like gum.

He has an oxygen mask on his face, his eyes are shut, yet the grip of his hand is quite firm. He's very handsome and I could tell that he is at once arrogant and sensitive. He doesn't even know me, yet he grabbed my hand to stay with him. It's cute, but also really odd.

Considering he knows no one, and I, although a stranger, was the only one to notice he was feeling ill and helped him.

Yet he seems crazy, but at the same time looks like a lonely man with nobody. His face is beautiful but with a somber expression. It's actually scary; his gaze alone is intimidating.

The ambulance arrives at the hospital, and I go with him as far as I'm allowed. Then, the nurses stop me, say something—I think they told me to wait here, extending a hand like a stop sign.

But what should I do here? I don't even know who this man is. I better go back to selling my candies since that's more profitable. I won't earn anything here, unless I start offering them to the people here, which isn't a bad idea considering there are many. A little sweet can calm the heart.

A woman in a white coat touches my shoulder, starts speaking, and I interrupt her.

"Sorry, I only speak, I can't hear. If you use sign language, I understand. If not, just write it down on paper for me to read."

She places a hand on her chest, bowing her head apologetically.

She gestures me to follow and leads me to the reception desk. She writes on a piece of paper, handing it to me to read.

-- Are you related to the patient\, miss?

"I'm not related to him, I was selling candies at the traffic light, and he got sick in his car. I asked for help, and he held on to me to come along." — I respond calmly to her.

She looks at me and writes on the paper again before showing it to me.

-- Do you know his name?

"No, ma'am. Like I said, I don't know him. But he must have his documents in his wallet, right? Just check his pockets and you'll find out."

She nods and gestures for me to wait with her hands. Great, I am missing out on making money here.

She leaves and takes a while, then comes back and writes on the paper again.

-- He said that you're his fiancee\, asked me to bring you to him.

I laugh out loud, fiancee? It must be a joke. Where did she get that from? It's worth a loud laugh.

"I'm homeless, doctor. Do you really think I'm the fiancee of that rich guy? Look at me, look at my clothes, and you saw his clothes, all fancy in a suit and tie?"

She looks at me, puzzled—where did this fiancee story come from?

She takes my hand and leads me to the room where he is being treated.

He sees me and gives me a tired smile with his drooping eyes, and I'm lost in confusion. Where's Mr. Arrogance? That man who rolled up his window on me.

He and the doctor talk, and I stand there lost, not knowing what to do. I'd prefer to leave this place.

"Well, goodbye, I'm leaving. Get well soon, mister. But I have lots to sell still." — I say, already turning towards the door, and the doctor touches my arm, gesturing for me to look at him.

He beckons me closer and gestures for me to wait with his hands.

"Wait for what? I have nothing to do here. I don't even know you, 'man'."

He just gestures for me to wait. I huff at this, what kind of farce is this?

The doctor leads me to a chair, and I sit down. Seems like I'll have to wait for the handsome patient to be discharged, just my luck.

It takes roughly two hours for him to be well enough, and I thank God for that, having not sold a single candy because of him.

But as I'm leaving, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me out.

The police have brought his car to the hospital, and he leads me to the door and opens it for me to get in.

"Look, man, I know you’re grateful because I saved your life, but I'm not going anywhere with you."

He gestures again for me to get in.

"I won't get in your car. I'm going back to my spot. I don't have rent to pay, but I have a stomach to fill. So, excuse me."

I start to leave and he catches my arm, pulling with some strength, he forces me into the car and locks the door.

I try to open the door and start banging on the window, he gets in on the other side, starts the car, and speeds off.

I cross my arms and look out the window. This guy is an idiot. Actually, it's better if he just takes me back since he brought me here.

But I notice he's not taking me towards the traffic light. He's going a different way, and this worries me a lot.

Eventually, he stops in front of a luxurious house. What the heck am I doing here? The massive gate opens, and he drives in.

He gets out of the car, and I'm scared when he walks around and opens my door.

I scoot to the driver's side, and he stretches over, grabs my arm, and pulls me out; he's dragging me while I try not to go with him.

But he opens a large door and keeps dragging me until we reach a staircase. At this point, I grab the railing, making him stop dragging me.

I look at him fearfully, he smiles and hoists me onto his shoulder.

"Let go, you caveman, put me down, I want to leave."

He carries me while I pound on his back. I look up to see some people—I think they're the housemaids—all in uniforms, hands over mouths, watching us.

He carries me to the last room in the corridor, opens the door and flings me onto the bed.

Throws me, literally.

I look at him with anger and fear, afraid he might try something with me here.

He doesn't say a word, just leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

I rush to leave as well and realize he's locked it.

I start banging desperately for him to open, pounding until my hand starts to hurt.

Crazy man, what does he want with me?

Is he planning to sell me? Or sell my organs? Or does he want me to be an organ donor for him?

Oh no, I'm not giving him my organs.

I go to the window and check if a jump could work, but the house is too high, and I'd break my legs.

That would be the end for me, deaf and crippled.

I have to think, I must get out of here; he's a mad psychopath, could even be a serial killer.

I keep looking at the window, trying to figure out the perfect escape, until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn around, and he's there, serious, handing me a piece of paper, and with fear, I take it and start to read.

"Sleep well tonight, Allana, because tomorrow will be our wedding. I'll be waiting for you at the altar."