Only My Mia Cara

There was no work today.

No carpets to stitch.No dishes to scrub.No punishments.

Just… sunlight, warm clothes, and smiling faces.

At lunch, they gave us real food.Soft, steaming rice. Slightly sweet lentils. Even a tray of boiled sweets passed around for the smaller kids.

It only happened when someone got adopted.A celebration, I guess.

Here, in this place… you worked to eat.And even then, it was usually stale bread or bitter porridge.

But today?

It felt like a dream.

We played outside—me, my sister, the other kids.Some of the older ones kicked around a half-deflated ball.Others dressed up the younger ones in toy scarves and hand-me-downs like royalty.

I should've been happy.Everyone else was.

But…

Dante wasn't smiling.

He stood alone near the broken fence, arms crossed, watching.His brows were furrowed, eyes distant—like something was heavy in his chest.

I didn't ask.

Maybe… maybe he wanted a home too.A family that would look at him with softness.He'd been here since he was five.Eight years.

That had to be lonely.

As I was thinking, someone tugged on my hand.

I looked up.

"Jake?" I blinked.

He was the boy who slept in the upper bunk above mine.A year older maybe. Always smiling.He grinned now too.

"Come, I need to show you something!" he said.

Before I could even answer, I felt another hand grab my shoulder.

I turned.

And there he was.Dante.

His eyes were stormy. His hand was firm.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You can't go, mia cara," he said softly—but there was a strange sharpness in his voice.

Jake tugged again. "Come on! It'll just take a second!"

But Dante… he pulled me back toward him.Not harshly. But… possessively.

I frowned.

Jake looked between us.

"Fine. Be like that, Dante," he muttered, letting go of my hand. "I was just trying to be nice."

Then he turned and walked off.

"Why did you do that?" I asked Dante once Jake was gone.

He didn't answer right away.

He looked… embarrassed.

"Nothing," he mumbled, eyes on the ground.Then he slowly let go of my hand too.

The rest of the day passed in light and laughter.

We played hide and seek.We built towers out of sticks.We made silly crowns out of newspaper scraps and acted like kings and queens.

But even with all the joy…

I couldn't ignore the way Dante and Jake kept glancing at each other.

Like they were in some invisible fight.Over what, I didn't know.

But it was there.That look.That tension.

Like they had both lost something…And didn't know how to get it back.

Dinner time:

Dinner that night felt like another miracle.

No work.No shouting.No slaps.

Just soft, warm food again—tastier than anything we were used to.Everyone was happy. Laughing. Some even dancing around the wooden tables.

No dishes tonight either.

It was rare. Too rare.We were almost pretending… like this place was normal.

"What if it always happened?" Milly asked beside me in her tiny, dreamy voice.

She looked up at me with wide eyes, her baby cheeks still pink from giggling.

My heart hurt.

Before I could say anything, Dante knelt beside her.

His bruised cheek still looked sore under the kitchen light, but he smiled gently and placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

"It will happen one day, Milly," he said kindly.

Milly nodded, trusting him instantly.

"Okay!" she chirped.

And just like that, she skipped off to get more sweets.

I stood frozen for a moment.

He smiled at her.And something in me… melted.

I didn't even realize I was staring until he waved a hand in front of my face.

"Earth to mia cara?" he said with a small smirk.

I blinked.

His face—still a little bruised from before.His black, messy hair falling into his forehead.Those deep, ocean-blue eyes, tired but still full of something soft.Fair skin, and a slim, bony frame that carried more pain than any boy should.

He tilted his head.

"What were you thinking, mia cara?"

I shook my head quickly.

"Nothing," I whispered, smiling back.

He didn't ask again.And I didn't tell him that I had been thinking how beautiful he looked when he was kind.

That night, everyone fell asleep fast.

But I couldn't.

I tossed and turned, eyes fixed on the ceiling.Something felt restless in my chest. Not bad. Just… there.

I got up quietly and tiptoed through the room of sleeping children until I reached his bed.

He wasn't sleeping either.

He opened his eyes in surprise and slowly sat up.

"Why are you not sleeping, mia cara?" he whispered.

I looked down, playing with my fingers.

"I'm not sleepy," I said softly. "You aren't either… should we go to the rooftop?"

He stared at me for a moment.

Then smiled. And nodded.

We walked together, barefoot, up the old creaky stairs.Everything was quiet. The night air was cool.

We reached our spot—the corner of the rooftop where we always sat, hidden behind the metal tank and old pipes.

He sat first, leaning back with his arms behind him. Then looked up.

And smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked, curious.

He didn't answer right away.

The stars above us were dim tonight, but they were there.Maybe he was thinking about something far away.

He finally turned to me.

"It's my birthday," he said.

I gasped softly.

"Really?!"

That was the last thing I expected.

"But… why are you smiling?" I asked again, more quietly this time.

He looked at me, and for a moment, the world around us stood still.

He smiled again.A soft, faraway kind of smile.

"It used to be fun," he whispered."When I was a kid… my sister would bake a chocolate cake. My favorite."

I looked at him.The glow from the moon cast shadows across his face.His bruises looked less painful tonight.

But his eyes… they carried the ache of years.

"I didn't even know today was my birthday," he said quietly."I just saw the date on the calendar downstairs and remembered… it was the day we used to celebrate. Back then."

He looked up at the stars again, and this time… he wasn't smiling anymore.

"The last time we celebrated… I was four. My sister and mom were alive."

His voice cracked just a little, and it broke something inside me.

I looked down, heart heavy.Then up again.

"Do you want to celebrate your birthday?" I asked softly, my throat tightening.

He nodded.

That was all it took.Just that one, small nod—like a whisper of a wish.

And suddenly, I couldn't hold it anymore.

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

He looked at me, alarmed.

"Mia cara…" he reached forward and pulled me into a tight hug, his arms warm and protective."You don't need to cry," he said gently. "You don't need to…"

"But you must've wanted to celebrate it again," I sobbed into his shirt."You deserve to."

He pulled back a little, holding me by the shoulders.

"We will, mia cara. We'll celebrate your birthday too. And mine. Together."

I sniffled.

"But… I don't remember my birthday," I whispered.

He brushed a tear off my cheek with his thumb.

"You told me your parents died on your birthday."

I nodded slowly. "But i don't remember the date."

"Then that's enough," he said with a soft smile. "We'll share this day. From now on. Together."

He looked around the rooftop, then got up and disappeared into the dark.

"Wait here," he said.

I sat there, heart full of quiet warmth and sadness.

When he returned, it was with a rusted steel bucket, a small dented bowl of dry mashed potatoes, and something else…A half-broken candle.

He placed it all in front of me, breathing a little hard.Then, from the shadows of his pocket, he pulled out a match.He struck it, lit the candle, and placed it gently in the middle of the mashed potatoes.

"Happy birthday to us," he whispered.

He scooped a small bite with his fingers and held it out.

I leaned forward and took it.

It was cold. Dry.But… it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

I smiled. Just a little.

And he smiled back—like he'd been waiting his whole life to see that smile.

We ate together.In silence.Mashed potatoes on a bucket. One candle burning low.

Then… I rested my head on his shoulder.

He said nothing.

And I didn't need him to.

After a long time, he spoke again.

"One day," he said, "when we get out of here… we'll celebrate our birthday for real."

I nodded.

"A real cake," I whispered.

"And balloons," he added.

"And warm blankets," I giggled softly.

"And no wards yelling at us," he smirked.

Then he paused.

His voice grew quiet. Deeper.

"Mia cara… when we get out… will you marry me?"

I turned my head to look at him.

"Like… like mom and dad?"

He nodded.

I blinked—then smiled, so wide it almost hurt.

"Yes. I will."

His eyes lit up.

"We'll stay together. Always."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I whispered.

And just like that,beneath a single flickering candle,we made the most important promise in the world.

I looked up at him again.

"Thank you, Dante."

He smiled and touched my hair softly.

"No need, mia cara."