Episode 4

📖 Chapter 4 – Ice and Fire

The weeks passed as if time were in a hurry. November arrived, covering Milan with longer nights, cutting breezes, and pale-sky dawns. Each day was a test for my courage: intense classes, the loneliness in the mansion, and Jade's rare appearances, always laden with contempt.

But as the days went by, something began to change. Alessandro, who had previously observed me from afar as if analyzing a stranger, began to notice my habits. He noticed when I studied late, when I read in Italian until I fell asleep on the books, or when I responded to Jade firmly without ever losing my composure. He saw the sparkle in my eyes when I talked about taking care of people, and he began to see in me not just his daughter, but a woman whom life had molded with grit and character — unlike anyone he had ever known.

One Thursday night, while I was reviewing my notes in the living room, Alessandro entered. The sound of his footsteps echoed on the marble floor. I quickly put on a sweatshirt so as not to look sloppy, and he smiled slightly — a discreet but genuine smile that lit up his face marked by time and the coldness of years.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, his voice softer than I had ever heard.

I nodded, feeling my heart beat faster. He approached, bringing a black envelope with a gold seal. He carefully handed it to me.

"Open it," he requested.

My hands trembled as I broke the seal. Inside, there was a letterhead with the name of one of the best universities in Milan, as well as official documents. I read each line, feeling my eyes fill with tears when I understood: he had enrolled me in the Medicine course. And not only that — he had ensured that I could choose any specialization: general practice, surgery, whatever my heart desired.

"You... did this for me?" I asked, in Italian, my voice choked.

He approached even closer, placing his hand on my shoulder. His gaze, once so cold, was now filled with pride and a warmth that made me remember, for the first time, that he was my father.

"Your mother raised a woman of strength, Jasmim," he said, his voice deep and emotional. "Not a spoiled frivolous girl like..." he paused, but I understood. "You deserve everything. You will no longer ask permission to shine. You will shine."

Tears escaped my eyes without me being able to contain them. In a burst of emotion, I threw myself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He reciprocated, pressing me against his broad chest, as if he wanted to recover all the years we lost.

"Thank you, papa," I murmured in Italian, my voice broken by sobs. "Mamma would be so happy with you now... so proud."

He took a deep breath, as if absorbing every word. I knew that classes would only start next year, since November no longer allowed enrollments for the current semester. But that didn't matter: for the first time, I had a real future.

When I pulled away, I saw in his eyes a flame that I would never have imagined: love. Not the contained love of someone fulfilling an obligation, but the genuine love of a father who awakens to the value of his daughter.

That night, I fell asleep knowing that my mother, wherever she was, was smiling for me. And that, finally, I was no longer alone in this world.

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