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MARIA

The building was busy the moment I walked in; dancers coming out of class in groups, swiftly moving onto the next session. Swarms of people crisscrossed past me, their various different smells tingling my nostrils as I made my way in.

But the hustle and bustle of Dream made me feel at home, the fast paced environment strangely made me feel alive and energised. I greeted a few people here and there before finally meeting Iris amidst the crowds, hugging her tightly.

Iris laughed, hugging me back as she said, "Ria, it hasn't been that long since we last saw each other!" She looked good; her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail and she was wearing a long sleeved top underneath a plaid, a line dress with some Mary Jane heels. Her blush enhanced her cute cheeks as she smiled and I loved her gold stud earrings. She always looked beautiful. I laughed, pulling away. "I know, I know." After a small catch up, it was time to get down to business.

"Your schedule is already tight," Iris told me, pulling out her iPad from her bag. "Are you sure you're ready to be in so quickly? You've only just come back." Her eyes looked up at me in concern, her long, natural lashes evident as she blinked.

I nodded firmly, "weeks are getting closer and closer to the performance. I can't afford to waste any time." She understood, knowing my nature.

"As long as you take care of yourself," Iris reminded me, a serious look on her face. I nodded, giving her a reassuring expression. "It's dance all morning as usual and. . ." She hesitated, pushing her glasses up her nose which caused me to raise both eyebrows in curiosity. Iris sighed before revealing, "and you've got a separate practice for you and Jorge only."

I nodded again, maintaining a reassuring look. I didn't let it bother me. I knew at some point it would only be the two of us practicing and accepted it. "It's fine," I told her in an uplifting tone.

She sighed again before more positively saying, "you've got an hour free right now before it all starts."

Slightly confused, I repeated, "an hour free?" My eyebrows furrowed. I never usually had time in the morning. She grinned, turning off her iPad.

"A whole hour free."

"Why?"

Iris didn't say anything, there was a knowing and mischievous look on her face as she took my hand and began leading me up the large stairs. "I haven't changed yet-"

"Oh, you don't need to," Iris chuckled as I tried to quickly catch up behind her. I couldn't help but laugh, finding the unknown fun.

We reached a familiar spot and I groaned at the sight. "My uncle's office? Why does he want to see me now?" I pulled on her hand a little as we slowed down, "I thought this would be something good." She squeezed my hand gently.

"It is something good!" Iris answered, still grinning happily. Unconvinced, I sighed as she knocked and opened the door at the 'come in' from the other side. My uncle was by the book shelf behind the desk, taking a load of books and placing them into a cardboard box not too far away.

The office for the head of Dream was huge and luxurious; the floor was covered in gloss tiles and the walls were painted swan white with high value wrt hanging on the walls. The one piece of art most important was hanging behind the desk. It was my mother; a grand and magnificent picture that showcased her beauty, one that no person could ever forget. My mother was truly gorgeous; her sharp eyes, her charming smile across her youthful, flawless face. My eyes immediately went to her face in awe whenever I entered the office, it was large mounted picture almost impossible not to stop and gaze at. It always sent shivers down my spine. The true founder of Dream.

The main desk was glass and glimmered under the lights that were brightly illuminating the room. There was space for meetings on one side with a reasonably large desk surrounded by pearl white chairs, and the other side had a sitting area with a low table in the middle of the sofas.

I lifted my eyes from the picture, feeling my chest begin to tighten again at the thought of her. I slowly and silently exhaled, trying to keep my heart from pounding against my rib cage.

"You're here," my uncle said in a defeated tone. His usual bitter expression was on his face and his shoulders were always slumped and slouching as he walked. He was a short man, despite most of his family being tall. A middle aged man with a small beer belly and some grey hairs beginning to peek out of his brunette mess of hair. He didn't need Dream, he didn't want Dream. He just needed some form of inheritance money.

My uncle wanted to sell Dream many times but I always found a way to stop him. It was his own dream, being able to gain the money off my mother's company. He was broke without it. After my grandfather died and he barely got any money, he gambled and took over Dream in hopes of making money off it. Thankfully, he never did.

My mother and her family never really got along. It was a surprise when he came out wanting Dream. I didn't actually know any of them that well. But he was always the brother who gambled and needed money or something. She hated his guts. She would be horrified if she knew he was running Dream.

I clenched my jaw at the sight of him, already irritated. He stank up the place as usual and looked like he'd been up all night. How was it possible Dream had ended up in his hands? I always found myself defending my mother's company despite having many negative feelings towards her.

"The papers are there. Sign them. It's what you've wanted all this time," he sarcastically muttered, continuing to fill the boxes laying around. I had no idea what he was trying to say.

"Why does it look like you're moving out?" I slowly asked, completely puzzled at the sight of the boxes.

"Are you trying to be funny? Belittling me already?" He snapped after giving me a glare. He was more angry than usual that morning. I folded my arms and looked around, still dumbfounded.

Iris chuckled, poking my arm. "Go and have a look," she encouraged, a twinkle in her eyes. My eyebrows lowered in confusion, moving closer to the desk and looking down at the papers.

"No. Fucking. Way."

I immediately recognised Leonardo's signature.

"Leonardo Romano. . ." I whispered in complete disbelief as I chuckled, thinking of him. "No way." Whatever frustrations I held against him had disappeared into thin air. The love I had for that man had suddenly grown stronger in seconds. All I wanted to do was hug and kiss him. The 'thank you' waiting for him would be huge.

"He really - Dream's really-" I looked at her in utter shock, my eyes wide as I gasped.

Iris nodded quickly, laughing at my reaction. "It's yours, Ria. You just have sign!" I let out a laugh, my hand covering my mouth. It was there, the day had finally come. All I could think about was him, thankfulness was pouring into my heart.

It wasn't long after my lawyers had walked in and after consultation and reading, I had signed the papers to own Dream.

Dream was officially mine.

Iris had a meeting to attend to and left after I'd signed the papers. When my uncle and I were left alone in the office, I was learning against the desk in awe of what was finally mine. All of my plans would soon come to pass.

My eyes were drawn to the massive picture above of her, my mother's stunning face before me. It was an older professional picture; she looked so free. Would she have been proud to know that Dream was mine?

"Your mother finally won in the end," my uncle grumbled, closing another box with cello tape. I looked at him as my eyebrows knitted together. "She always said it would be yours."

"Of course she did," I lightly scoffed, thinking about how much she wished I would become her. "Of course you did," I whispered, looking up at her wide smile.

"You look just like her," my uncle said, bringing me out of my thoughts. He more darkly added, "it's creepy." He gave me a weird look, shaking his head as he shuddered. He wasn't wrong; I was a carbon copy of my mother; there were times I was confused for her.

"She wasn't always a bitch, your madre {mother}," uncle Gaetano grudgingly stated, noticing that I was staring up at her. "Not at all."

I tilted my head quizzically, ignoring his insult. "Really?" I slowly said, "then what changed? Why did you guys hate each other?" All I had ever known was hatred between the family. She never wanted me involved with them, especially her parents. He sighed, putting away some more books.

"Your mother was a product of an affair. She was sold off to be married," he looked at me through his thick lens with more serious look. "That's when she turned into a bitch." I frowned, taken aback by his revelation. I was utterly surprised, my eyes widened as I looked at him, completely intrigued.

"But I thought. ."

Why did I think it was mutual? It all made sense; she hated my father's guts as much as she hated her family's.

He shrugged, "that's why she did everything she could to make something for herself. To prove herself. She fucking died pathetically in the end." I shot him a hard look before turning my head away, realising I was being on her side again. I shouldn't.

I swallowed before more quietly saying, "she was killed."

He chuckled teasingly. "Yeah. Sure. You're the only person who says that, Maria, still after all these years. Did her delusion pass onto you too?" I sighed, not wanting to argue again. I really was the only person who would tell the truth that I saw; the truth that no one wanted to hear.

"She had a hard life, that girl. A mistake from the beginning."

It was the loud slam of the front door that woke me up that night.

I sat up in a fright, the cold sweat trickling down my forehead as I panted, shocked awake. My room was extremely hot with the portable heater in the corner still running. Mom usually turned it off while I slept. I stared at it as I gulped down the glass of water that was on my beside desk, pulling my eyebrows together.

The slam must've been my dad. I had slept through the argument they'd been having earlier that night. A daily occurrence of course.

It was difficult to get back to sleep after that. I doubtlessly checked the clock not too far away and the hours were flying by without me even getting close to being sleepy. I was huffing and puffing in frustration that my bed felt too hard, my back was sore and my eyes were anywhere near from feeling heavy and sleepy.

I sat up again and groaned, rubbing my head. Nothing was working clearly. I pulled the covers over and slipped out of bed, sliding my feet into my fluffy slippers and silently making my way out of my bedroom. The corridor was tranquil and empty, the lights were off so I slowly used my intuition to make my way downstairs. I remembered seeing a slice of chocolate cake left in the kitchen that I knew my mother wouldn't eat therefore it'd have to be mine; I hadn't had any in months.

My stomach was already rumbling by the time I reached downstairs, my mouth salivating at the thought of the moist cake melting in my mouth. Maybe that would help me sleep, a taste of something sweet.

I had almost made it into the kitchen, ready to turn the lights on until I realised the lounge light was on, and the sound of mumbling had reached my ears. Biting my bottom lip hard, I froze, realising someone was still in the house. It would definitely be my mother. I almost groaned out loud; if she knew I was still awake at that time, she would be furious. She hadn't been so snappy the last few days so I had hoped to keep it that way. The best thing for me to do would be to take myself upstairs and force myself to sleep.

I feared her fury, and turned to go upstairs until I heard the sound of crying. I paused in my footsteps, my tip toes lowering to the ground. Was she. .crying? That woman hardly ever cried. There was no way. I had to confirm it for myself. I glided quietly across the floor and peaked into the crack between the door.

She was by the cabinet further in with both hands covering her face. My mother was actually crying. It shocked me. My jaw dropped slightly as I stared, her shoulders hunched over and shaking as she sobbed. The woman was fully crying, whimpering and pouring out her soul through tears, unable to stop. She wasn't like that earlier that day, quiet but busy doing all sorts of errands. I had never seen her so upset.

For once, I actually pitied my mother. I took a step closer, holding myself back from comforting her. I hesitated. She clearly needed someone but I didn't dare let it be me. She'd shout the moment she saw me. My mother hated crying.

She wiped her red face, her eyes bloodshot and her lips quivering. She looked younger with tears rolling down her cheeks. Shaking, she picked up her glass of water and drank from it completely before refilling it with the jug not too far away. Her hand was against her forehead as she stared at the glass. My eyebrows furrowed at her; she kept staring at the water before her.

I bit my lip, unable to guess what she'd do next. Wiping her puffed cheeks again, she looked slightly more confident, opening a drawer and pulling out a small bottle that was too far away for me to read what was on it.

Then, one by one, she opened what looked like tiny plastic containers and emptied its white contents into the glass. I pressed my lips together as I tried to figure out what it was. She was putting so much into water without a break.

Sugar was what I guessed it to be. I wasn't sure why she was putting sugar in water and why she needed that much but that was the only answer my mind could think of at that age. But my mother never had sugar with anything; and I didn't understand why she needed that much in water. I decided to continue to watch to find out.

She exhaled slowly, dropping the empty cabinet on the floor. Then she took the glass, taking it with her as she slowly sat down, mixing it with the force of her wrist. Mom looked like she was in some sort of trance; her eyes seemed unfocused and empty, a dull and emotionless look masked her gloomy face. She didn't bother to wipe the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Placing the cup down, she picked up a familiar packet of cigarettes, taking one out. I frowned, watching as she lit one and took it to her mouth. She shouldn't have been having that. She told me she'd stop, that she would quit. I couldn't stand there any longer watching take so many drags of it, the frustration filled my soul.

Without hesitation, she picked up the glass of water, filled with sugar, and brought it to her lips. Her eyebrows lowered and her face crumbled slightly as she held back a sob. Just as she was about to open her mouth, I pushed the door open and walked in.

"Mammina {mummy}, you said you weren't going to smoke anymore."

"Fuck!" She flinched at the sight of me, yelping in shock as the glass slipped out of her hand, onto the table and shattered roughly, each glass breaking into pieces and pieces, the liquid spilling onto the floor. The cigarette had fallen into the puddle, a massive pile of mess all in front of her.

Her wide eyes stared at me in what looked like shock and alarm. Her mouth was open, stunned at my presence. She put her hand against her mouth and a look of regret had crossed her face.

I began stammering immediately, completely startled and petrified as to what she'd even begin shouting at. "Mammina. .I-I-I didn't mean to - I'm sorry, I'll clean it up. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I rushed over and quickly began to pick up the pieces with my bare hands, practically shaking as I did so, my head lowered and my eyes as I avoided what I assumed would be anger.

But it wasn't.

"Stop," she croaked.

Confused by her tone, I looked up to see her eyes welled up in tears again, staring at me. Had I made her that upset? "I'm sorry. .I didn't mean to. ."

She took my wrist and shook out the glass in it, tears dropped at the sight of the small cuts my palm had been subjected to. "My baby," Mama whispered, looking at me so deeply. I stood, beginning to back away in fear until she pulled my hand so I fell onto her, her arms wrapping around me tightly.

"Mommy, I'm sorry-" I stopped, realising she was hugging me. She held me so strongly, gripping onto me as she sobbed. I loosened my body, recognising that I didn't need to be so worried. She wasn't angry at me.

She was crying again. I didn't know why but I nevertheless hugged her back, gently patting her back as I awkwardly was held by her. I wondered why she was so sad.

"Mammina, you said you wouldn't smoke anymore." I felt uncomfortable by the her bulging stomach pressing against me. "For my baby sister." The bump was getting bigger and bigger by each day, right there between us. My sister was huge in there.

My mother sobbed harder, her hands clutching onto me as her tears fell more and more. "Maria, I'm sorry, mia bambina, I'm sorry," she cried, rocking me as she wailed. I didn't know what to say, still patting her back with my small hands.

"Don't cry, mammina," I softly said, feeling empathetic for her. She kept apologising over and over. It was like that for at least an hour, her sobs were endless.

Once she had finally composed herself enough to speak, she pulled back and stared at me again, sniffling as she gazed. I wiped her cheeks with the back of my hand, pressing a little too hard at one point and she sharply inhaled, wincing and closing one eye that was beginning to look puffier than the other. She took my hand and held it so I stopped.

I intently looked, realising there was a dark mark starting to appear around her eye. It was massive. Then my eyes dropped to her neck, the hand prints around it, the red marks. Her shoulders, wrists, her arms, even down to her chest. My lips parted in shock.

"Mammina-"

"Princess," she sharply interrupted as though she knew what I was going to ask, stroking my hair softly as she held me. "Why are you awake?" That was the most kindest she had ever asked such a question. I hesitated, letting go of what I was going to say.

I wasn't used to it, uncomfortable adjusting myself so I was sitting better on her lap. I tried not to press onto her bump under her long dress.

"I couldn't sleep. .it waa really loud."

She slowly let out a breath again, blinking her glossy eyes, knowing what I was talking about. She hiccuped, holding in another sob. Forcing herself to look strong, she shook her head, swallowing. "You shouldn't have heard that," she said in a broken voice, a pained sound in her throat.

"You shouldn't smoke, mama," I said strongly again, still smelling a faint scent of it. She nodded, "mmm. .I'm sorry, sweetie. I won't ever again." She caressed my cheek, calmly gazing at me.

My mother looked really pretty from up close. Her grey eyes were compelling, even through the tears, and topped off her beauty.

"I won't do anything like that ever again."

"Why did you put so much sugar in your water? Is it nice?"

Another pained look covered her face, mixed with guilt. "Mommy has baby brain from your sister. It was a mistake. A big mistake. Don't try it, Maria. It's not nice. It's very, very bad." I felt like asking another question regarding it, but she was being so kind that I didn't want to push my luck. I simply nodded and let her kiss my cheek and adore me. It wasn't very often she was sweet.

"When did you get so big to tell mommy off?" She softly chuckled in a playful tone, poking my sides and making me giggle. She laughed too, kissing my cheeks and tickling me as I withered her arms.

"Ouch!" She yelped, looking down as she stopped. I was confused as she smiled afterwards.

"That's your sister," Mammina sweetly told me, taking my hand and placing it against her hard bump. I felt her little kicks and gasped, my eyes locking with her warm ones. She laughed again, kissing my temple. "Does it hurt, Mammina?" She shook her head. The redness on her face was beginning to reduce.

"A little bit. It's love kicks, your sister is moving around. She's excited to see you."

"I don't know if I'm excited to see her."

"Why?" My mother amicably asked, moving my hair away from my face. I frowned, "she keeps making you pee, eat weird things and cry. I don't like that." She heartily laughed again, a melodious and rare sound filling my ears. I looked up at her in slight surprise as she held my hand, stroking it softly.

"It's okay, bambina. She's just a baby, it's not her fault. You are going to be best friends." She smiled, rubbing her large stomach.

I nodded, hoping she was right. Then a yawn escaped my mouth, my eyes were beginning to hurt. My mother held me close again, rocking me slowly. She kissed my forehead saying, "sleep, my flower. I love you so much, Maria."

Then she started humming that tune again. One that would stick with me forever. The same gentle melody, over and over again until I was fast asleep in her arms, safe and relaxed.

I had forgotten about her mistake.

The word my uncle mentioned had suddenly reminded me of a memory pushed all the way to the back of my mind.

The night she was about to kill herself.

I closed my eyes, feeling the painful memory hit. I only realised what she was doing now in that moment. Her regret was for me. She had forgotten about me in the midst of her agony. She truly had a hard life.

"That's why women shouldn't aim too far. End up being put right back to their place," he sniggered, closing up another box.

I turned and scowled at him, vengeance fuelling my words as I snapped back, "you're wrong." I scoffed as I looked at him in disbelief, "I'm really sick of hearing your bullshit everyday."

I stood up straight, a cold stare cast upon him, making him stop on his tracks. "You have fifteen minutes left. Pack up and leave. Dream is no longer your responsibility."

I needed to calm down and forget her. My hour was almost up and there was a full schedule waiting for me ahead.

Maybe Leonardo wasn't in so much trouble with me anymore.

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~ Author's Note ~

Dream is finally Maria's!

A flashback to her past has made Maria perceive parts of her childhood differently to what she initially remembered. Is she starting to view her mother in a different light?

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