Rosalina

"If you can hear my voice, clap once." A few students clap, distracted. "Clap twice." More join in. "Clap three times." Finally, the room settles.

"Thank you." I smile, letting out a small breath. "I know recess is calling, but we have to finish our lesson first."

As the students settle into their books, I savor the calm. Teaching isn't easy. Especially here, where support is scarce and resources are a joke. But even with the long hours and low pay, I wouldn't trade it. Watching these kids grow is worth more than a paycheck.

My childhood was filled with money, but not meaning. Everyone assumed I'd follow the family script: status, wealth, cold ambition. Instead, I chose this life. A life that makes a difference. A life my father never understood.

Leaning against my desk, I catch sight of the brown coffee stain on my blouse—a reminder of this morning's coffee disaster. The man I bumped into had the iciest blue eyes.

The bell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. The kids leap from their seats, racing toward the door. I follow, joining Lacey and a couple of other teachers at the picnic tables.

"Were yours as wild as mine today?" Lacey asks, taking a sip from her ridiculously oversized metal water bottle. "I didn't think we were going to make it to recess."

"Don't even get me started," I say, rubbing my temples. "It's been a long week."

"You work too hard," she chides. "You need to take some time for yourself."

She's right, but I refuse to admit it. Her head is already big enough.

"I will," I promise.

Lacey shakes her head, her blonde waves bouncing with the motion. "You always say that, but you never do. All work and no play. But even workaholics need a break sometimes," she teases, her tone shifting halfway through. "Speaking of...did you download that dating app yet?"

I stifle a groan. "Yeah, I made a profile," I admit. What I don't say is I never opened the app again after that. Lacey's been on me for weeks to dip my toes back into the dating pool, but the thought of it still twists my stomach. I'm not prepared yet. Not after Calvin.

Lacey's eyebrows shoot up. "Have you talked to anyone yet?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready," I say, shaking my head. Not ready, or maybe just afraid.

"You've said that for two years now. You're twenty-seven, Rosie. It's time to get back out there. I know the whole thing with Calvin was rough, but I think it's time to get over it."

Ouch. That stings, but Lacey's bluntness is one thing I love most about her. Still, it's easy for her to say 'get over it' when she's never had a serious relationship and can't understand what I went through.

"It's not that easy."

Memories of Calvin's betrayal still sting, even after all this time. I lost my trust in men because of him, and I'm not sure I'll ever get it back.

How can I trust again when all I've known is deception? It's like I've been collecting bad relationships, each one worse than the last, proving my truly impeccable taste in men. And by impeccable, I mean disastrously terrible.

"You don't have to date the first guy you meet. But give it a try. At least find someone to fu-"

"Lacey! Not in front of the children!" They aren't even close enough to hear our conversation, but it's the principle of the matter.

"Fine," she rolls her eyes. "Someone to talk to."

It's the same conversation, different day. The pressure to 'get back out there', like finding someone new, will somehow fix everything. But it's hard to explain that my heart's still a little sore.

Lacey doesn't get it. She's never been in love. Not the real kind. The messy kind that leaves you raw and exposed. I used to envy her with her carefree attitude toward relationships. But now, I just wish I could borrow a bit of it.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and open the app for the first time in weeks. To my surprise, I have a few matches. One stands out immediately: Curtis. Handsome, a cop, and a golden retriever in his profile picture. I scroll through his profile, realizing he messaged me days ago.

I glance at Lacey, who's eyeing me expectantly, and I show her my phone. She gives me a look of approval.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

I exchange a quick back-and-forth with Curtis, and before I know it, we've somehow made plans for this weekend.

The wind picks up, carrying the scent of rain, and as the sky darkens, a familiar heaviness settles in my chest. The first raindrops hit, and the kids scatter, squealing.

Lacey elbows me in a playful nudge. "Come on, Rosie. Let's get inside before we're soaked."

I nod, standing up and shaking off the melancholy that's settled over me. I may not feel like I am ready to start dating again, but what's the harm in one date?

***

I glance at the clock, frustration building with each passing minute. Mrs. Campbell was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, but there's no sign of her. Her son, Jackson, sits beside me, oblivious to my growing anxiety as he doodles on a piece of paper.

I check my phone again, but there's no new message, no update. Just the last one she sent saying she was on her way.

I can't leave until she gets here. School policy. But the longer I stay, the darker it gets outside. The rain has turned the world into a blur of gray, and the streetlights flicker on, casting a pale glow that does little to brighten the gloom.

"Are you okay, Ms. Rosie?" Jackson asks, his big eyes peering up at me from under his too-long bangs.

I force a smile. "I'm fine, Jackson. Just waiting for your momma."

He nods and goes back to his drawing.

I wish I could share his ease, but a heavy unease sits in my chest. Maybe it's just the storm. Rain always makes everything feel bigger, heavier.

Normally, I wouldn't be this anxious, but heavy rain floods the roads near the school. It's why we canceled tutoring today.

Finally, headlights slice through the downpour. I exhale as Mrs. Campbell's car pulls up.

I help Jackson gather his things. He bounces toward the door, full of energy I can't help but envy.

"Thanks for waiting," Mrs. Campbell calls out as Jackson runs to the car. "Sorry I'm late. The roads are a mess."

"No problem," I say, waving off her apology. "Drive safe."

I watch until the car is out of sight before turning back toward the school.

The building is eerily quiet, the usual student chatter gone. Rain drums on the roof, echoing through the empty halls as I head to my classroom. My shoes squeak on the linoleum, the shadows longer, the corners darker. Even the posters seem to watch me, their colors muted by dim light.

I reach my classroom, flicking on the lights and snatching up my bag. I don't want to linger here any longer than I have to. There's something unsettling about being the last one in the building.

By the time I step outside, the rain has eased into a steady drizzle. It's not heavy, but it's enough to soak through my coat. I pull it tighter around me as I head toward the parking lot.

The dark clouds hang low, pressing down on the city, and it feels much later than it actually is. The streetlights flicker, casting uneven pools of light that barely touch the ground.

I fumble with my keys, the metal cold against my fingers, and head for my car. The wind whips my hair, sending a shiver down my spine. I pull my coat tighter around me, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread curling in my stomach.

But it's hard to shake the feeling that something's not right. The lot is empty, except for my car. Still, I can't shake the sensation of being watched.

My eyes dart to the shadows, searching for movement. The rain has turned the world into a distorted mirror, reflections rippling across puddles that line the asphalt.

My heart kicks up a notch, and I quicken my pace. It's just the storm, I tell myself. Just my imagination. By the time I reach my car, I'm practically running.

I yank open the door and slide inside, slamming it shut behind me. The moment I'm in, I hit the lock button. My breath comes in shallow gasps as I grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, trying to calm the erratic beating of my heart.

Get a grip, Rosalina. It's just the rain, just the dark. Nothing's out there.

But as I sit there, staring at the rain-splattered windshield, I can't help but glance into the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see something—or someone—lurking in the backseat. The empty seats stare back at me, offering no reassurance.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. It's just nerves. Too many horror movies, too many stories about things that go bump in the night. I'm fine. I'm safe.

I pull out of the parking lot, glancing one last time in the mirror before driving away. The school fades into the distance, swallowed by the night and the storm.

***

I stand in front of the mirror, my eyes tracing the lines of my reflection. The soft light of the vanity casts a warm glow over my skin, but it does little to calm the nerves twisting in my stomach.

It's been so long since I've done this—far too long, if I'm being honest. I smooth down the fabric of my blouse. The deep burgundy color flatters my skin tone, but it feels a little bold. I tug at the hem of my jeans, second-guessing myself. Maybe I should have gone with something a bit more... polished.

But this is just a first date, I remind myself.

Casual. No pressure.

Lacey's voice echoes in my head, reminding me to breathe, to relax, to just have fun. Fun. Right. I've almost forgotten what that feels like.

I glance at my reflection one last time. My brown hair falls in soft waves around my shoulders, framing my face. A light dusting of makeup adds a subtle touch of color to my cheeks.

Not bad, I think. I look...presentable. Maybe even a little pretty.

But then, as always, the doubt creeps in. Could tonight turn into a disaster? What if Curtis doesn't match the version I've imagined? Worse, what if I don't meet his expectations? I bite my lip, forcing myself to shove those thoughts aside.

This is supposed to be a fresh start. A new beginning. I have to at least try.

Grabbing my purse, I head for the door. I decided to drive myself, despite Curtis's offer to pick me up. The idea of being trapped, of not having a way out if things went south, was too much. I needed an escape plan, just in case.

Curtis is waiting just inside the lobby when I walk in, his tall frame propped against the wall as he scans the crowd. When his eyes land on me, he straightens, a smile spreading across his face.

He's even more attractive in person. Broad shoulders, dark hair that falls into a perfect tousle, and those deep-set eyes that seem to see right through you.

"Rosalina," he says, stepping forward to greet me. His voice is warm, with just a hint of a Southern drawl. "You made it."

"Yeah." I smile back, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "Thanks for waiting."

"Of course." He gestures toward the ticket counter. "I'll grab the tickets, and then we can get some popcorn."

We buy our tickets, and Curtis insists on paying for everything. The drinks, the popcorn, even a box of candy that I didn't ask for but accepted with a grateful smile.

Before we make it to our designated viewing room, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. I pull it out of my purse. The screen lights up with a name I haven't seen in months. Mary, my father's housekeeper. An icy chill runs down my spine. Why would she be calling me now, of all times?

As I take a few steps away from Curtis, I shoot him a look that lets him know I need to take this. I swipe to answer the call, my voice shaky as I bring the phone to my ear.

"Mary?"

There's a pause on the other end, the sound of someone taking a deep breath. "Rosalina...something's happened."

The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. I can feel my pulse quicken, a sense of dread settling in my stomach. "What do you mean? Is everything okay?"

"It's your father," Mary says, her voice trembling. "He's...he's been murdered."

The world tilts on its axis. The ground drops out from under me. I struggle to comprehend the words. The shock wraps around me like a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs. "What? No...that can't be right."

"I came to clean, just like I always do, and I...I didn't notice at first. But when I was about to leave, I saw him out on the terrace." Her words break as her voice trembles.

The phone slips from my hand, clattering to the floor as the reality of what she's said crashes over me.

My father is dead.

Murdered.