Chapter 1: The Gift

Chapter 1: The Gift

It was my eighteenth birthday. The big house was full of people—friends, family, and servants. The air smelled like fresh flowers and sweet cake. Music played softly, and everyone was happy. I was excited for the gifts I might get. But nothing could prepare me for the gift my father brought in.

The doors to the hall swung open, and my father stepped inside, holding my gift. A hush fell over the room as all eyes fixed on Jack. Whispers spread like wildfire. With a proud smile, My father looked at me and declared, “Jack is yours now.”

I looked at the young man standing beside him. Jack was twenty-three years old, tall and strong, but his face was serious and cold. His eyes were dark and hard, like winter ice. He did not smile. He wore simple clothes, nothing like the beautiful dresses and suits in the room.

Everyone looked at Jack with hate or disgust. Some whispered behind their hands. My family did not welcome him. To them, Jack was less than a person—just a slave, a gift to me.

But I felt sorry for Jack. I knew his family was once rich and powerful, like mine. They had been rivals for many years. But because of politics, something bad happened to his family. They lost everything. They became so poor that they had to sell their own children just to survive.

Now Jack was here, in my family’s home, given to me like a possession.

Jack’s coldness was clear. He never smiled at me or anyone else. His words were short and sometimes rude. He stayed away from people, as if he did not want to be here. It hurt me deeply, but I did not show it. Instead, I wanted to be kind.

Every day, I tried to talk to him gently. I asked about his past, his family, and his dreams. But Jack rarely answered. His coldness was like a wall, hard to break.

My family did not care about Jack. They treated him badly—ignoring him, speaking to him harshly, or worse. Everyone treated him like trash. I was the only one who tried to be nice.

Sometimes, I asked myself why I cared so much. Maybe it was because I was still young and innocent. Or maybe it was because I could see the sadness behind Jack’s cold eyes.

One night, I lay awake thinking about Jack. I did not understand why he hated me and my family so much. But I knew this was just the beginning. There was a story behind his anger, a story I wanted to learn.

And deep inside, I felt something new—something I could not explain. A small, warm feeling that maybe, with time, Jack and I could be more than what we seemed now.

The gift was more than just a man. It was the start of a journey I did not expect—one that would change both our lives forever.

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