Chapter 4 : White flower

Never in her dreams she thought she had to face a near death experience. The moment she heard the commotion in her house, she knew something’s going to happen. The panic rising within her, the unknown gut-wrenching fear, everything confirmed her suspicion yet she couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening. She was just a kid to do anything.

Every time her mind goes back to that particular memory, it’s like the smoke is still there, surrounding her, clogging her nose and burning her eyes. The fire eating away her home, swallowing the screams of feared ones and the pleads of her mother to let their family go, still vividly plays in her mind. Like she was teleported to that tragic day every time and forced to live it again and again. It’s astonishing how the eight-year-old her still recollects all those tiny moments happened on that day but all she can do now is to be grateful for surviving the accident and escape to Kandon.

She was born in Cylantra aka her dad’s territory where people coexist with danger. Despite her father being the devil himself, ruling over the mafia clan along with his buddies, she grew up like a spoiled princess with her family at her beck and call until she was forced to separate from them by a misfortunate attack transpired on them, ruining her family. And her, partly. Though she was grateful to Wilson’s and consider them her family, unable to live with her own, stings her every time.

When she somehow reached Kandon in a bus, an older woman found her, sitting alone on the bench in the bus stop for at least four hours before she took that little girl to police, thinking the kid lost her way. The little girl was tight-lipped to all questions came her way but only shook her head when asked if her parents were alive. Then the granny told police she hopped down from the bus coming from Cylantra.

The police assumed her parents died in some ‘intentional accident’ happened in Cylantra as it’s common for such incidents to take place in a city full of mafia people roaming on roads at their free will and the little girl is slightly injured with a heavy bump on her forehead, cracked lips, bleeding knees thus confirmed their hunch. Sending her to an orphanage seems the only valid option. After two months, she was adopted by the Wilson couple who gladly accepted her to love and cherish from then on.

Though her time at the orphanage was horrible, constantly haunted by nightmares of the blast and the feeling of loneliness ate her from within. The Wilson’s arrival made her feel everything is worthy in the end. She used to be all alone, staying in her room and grieving over her lost family.

Even the kids in the orphanage wouldn’t dare to approach her after listening to her cries in her sleep because of her nightmares. They thought she was not normal and she couldn’t care less about their opinion. Wilson’s were kind enough to take her in, even though they knew about her condition. They were kind and generous to treat her like a glass doll, afraid that she’d break if they pushed her harder to accept them.

Knowing that she lost her family in a fire accident and that she’s suffering from Post-traumatic stress disorder according to orphanage physician, Wilson’s gave her a new identity and she took it with open hands to bury her past. She didn’t want to be Klara anymore as she is nothing without her past by her side. She lived as Fiona Wilson since then, tucking the reminds of Klara within herself as she can’t lose that part of her ever.

The Wilson couple helped her with the nightmares mostly being there for her so she didn’t have to feel alone. Victoria used to sleep along with her so she can wake Fiona up in case of nightmares and let her sleep peacefully afterwards with her warmth. They never really asked her about her birth parents afraid that she would break but only patiently waited while giving her time to heal, silently supporting her.

Her adoptive parents were like a dream of happiness in her life that slowly transformed into reality. And, she slowly started accepting the fact that she can love her adoptive parents while mourning her birth parents at the same time.

Almost after two years, when Fiona believed she moved on, the news about the new clan – Kingsters, came crashing down on her. The leader is none other than her father. He's alive and so are everyone from her family. The exhilaration she lived knowing that they are safe and sound was boundless and the yearning to meet them since then was hard to hide yet she waited and waited for years. Finally met them after six years, secretly behind the Wilson’s back.

Her parents were stupefied as she was, when they realised that she was alive all along. They wanted her back but she didn’t want to hurt her adoptive parents leaving them behind, so she stayed back. Even though her dad wants to protest he knew better and Klara staying with the Wilson’s is the best.

Her identity as the daughter of Carl Roselli, one of the rulers of Kingsters clan will bring her enough threat that she can’t live her life peacefully without protection. This is her chance for a normal life and he can’t be selfish to take that away from his daughter though it pains him to not be there for her.

She’s been in contact with her family since then and also visits them on special occasions like her birthday to celebrate with them. She hates herself and the fact that she has to hide everything about her real family from Wilson’s or lie whenever she goes to meet them but saying to herself that’s for their best and peace of mind was her only consolation because they would be scared and might feel intimidated about her background.

And, it changes everything in her life. Her adoptive parents will also start fearing for her life. She already has a pair who worries constantly and absolutely didn’t want another to live like that. It’s best if they are in the dark and easy for her to live as Fiona Wilson rather than Klara Roselli. To the mafia world, Klara Roselli was dead in that attack. And she wishes to keep it that way as she didn’t want to become the scapegoat to her parent’s enemies.

She sighed, pitying herself for having such a complicated life and closed her eyes to sleep. But the thoughts kept flowing. Even though her parents were alive, she lost her loved ones. She didn’t even have access to their graves to pay her visits. How cruel?

She didn’t want to think now. Frustrated, she stood up from her bed tossing the duvet aside and went to the other end of her room where she neatly spread out a space for her painting sessions. A wooden table was placed to the wall near the window where all her art supplies including her paints, brushes, alkyd mediums, linseed oil bottles along Sansodor solvent bottles for diluting paint and cleaning brushes and other necessary items were orderly organised. New canvas boards of different sizes but mostly 75x100 cm were stacked one on the other in the second rack of the table. A wooden easel stand was placed beside it, holding a half-done canvas painting.

She switched on the light stands placed focusing on the canvas for better lighting and picked up her apron hanging from the wall before wearing it and took the glass palette resting on the table into hand, staring at her art. After deciding from where to pick up the left work, she took the black paint tube and squeezed some onto the palette. After selecting the suitable brush, she slowly got lost into her world where only she and her canvas exists and remaining fades in the background.

Whenever she recalled some of her past memories, she would paint something to escape the hurt those thoughts will eventually bring her. Since her childhood, she used to experiment with lots of mediums like water colours, acrylics, pastels and charcoals but at last she found her connection with the oil paints.

Since then, she was an oil paint addict and every piece she created was with them and each one reflects her inner turmoil at that time. The black shadows she paints in all her works represents her haunted nightmares and the golden eyes, speaks the voice of her heart’s while the different flowers she paints stands for her struggling emotions desperate to be let out on various occasions.

With one last stroke she put her brush down, admiring her masterpiece. A smile adorned her face conveying how content she is with her painting, Flying with courage. The eagle was black as it was just a shadow with Red Columbines as its wings and eyes golden. She decided on the eagle before and today she opted to add Red Columbine which symbolises courage. Her courage.

She took out her mobile from the bag earlier and clicked a few pictures of the painting, thanks to the better lighting that she especially bought for times like these where natural light is unavailable. They came out pretty decent and Fiona then and there mailed those to the art gallery where her works usually go. She had to wait until tomorrow for their reply but she knew they’ll accept it.

Fiona was an anonymous artist with a pseudonym ‘White flower’. She concealed her identity as she started selling her art works from a young age and at that time revealing herself felt unnecessary and dangerous moreover, she was doing this secretly.

Even though her looks had changed with time, she can’t risk of being exposed. When Wilson’s were trying to get her out of her grief and helping her to engage more in activities to keep her mind off from unwanted thoughts, they learnt she was fond of painting and arts. Since then, they supported her and even sent her to an art school.

Fiona started selling her paintings online from the age of thirteen. It was partly inspired from Darla. One time when Fiona showed her a painting, she blurted out, “If I had money Fiona, I would’ve bought all your paintings and decorate my house with them. They were so beautiful.” And that one sentence gave Fiona the idea and all the encouragement she needed to start.

She enrolled in a few platforms and put her art work to sale. Since she was just thirteen with little to no knowledge on how to attract buyers, she suffered with disappointment but never gave up. Though the marketing part was really confusing and had no clue about the statistics, she still tried and slowly after few months her art work started getting recognition and people showed interest in buying them.

After approximately two years since she started this journey, one day she received a mail from a renowned art gallery, proposing a deal to sell all her works solely to them. She was on cloud nine the entire day and immensely proud of herself for getting such a recognition within a short span of time. It isn’t easy for artists to grow either personally with their art or financially. So, when this huge offer knocked her door, she not only opened it wide but strangled it with her hugs. God!! She was getting handsomely paid for it too.

She definitely didn’t lack money but she is also someone who aspires to earn it herself. Though it was not for money she began selling her pieces but for someone to love it the same way she loves her every painting, to feel that profound connection and heal a part of themselves they don’t know need healing.

Wilson’s didn’t know about her side business in fact nobody knew except herself. In the beginning she was not confident enough to share because she knew she might fail though but that didn’t stop her in putting her work out there. Later, this became her little secret success that she wished to keep it the same way.

Wilson’s giving her space all the time, not prying into her matters helped as they only cared about her health and well-being. Handing over her packed paintings to the courier agency was a big task. So she always made sure to book the service during times when Wilson’s were away from home or else her secret would’ve been known to them long ago. And she hopes for it to stay that way even in the future.

It's not that she’s unwilling to tell them but rather not ready to share yet. She wants to save enough money to open her own gallery one day, before revealing her secret-little-success, to everybody, done everything on her own, none backing or helping her.

If truth be told, she has two families to support her financially, who are willing to care for her even if she decided to stay at home and earn nothing in the future.

Her adoptive family runs a transport agency which was passed down to her dad from her grandparents who were the first one to start that business in Kandon city. Though later many other mimicked and few agencies popped up, her dad’s remained in the top as trusted and budget-friendly transport agency. Her real family owns a fortune enough for the next few generations to come, to live luxuriously.

Yet she wants to do this for herself to explore the world of arts and find her own place in them. She desires to set up her own art gallery one day, featuring her own works. She craves for that kind of success in her life and the recognition for her talent. She might be a faceless ‘White flower’ to the world, all that matters is she can be seen through her work.

As she was arranging her paints back in their place, she got lost in those golden eyes, staring without even blinking. The same eyes that haunted her dreams for years now. The signature feature in her every painting was this pair of golden eyes. Sometimes soft, sometimes with an edgy glare or a faint glow shining from them, whatever she painted those eyes will always be a part of it, somewhere between the strokes.

After making sure everything was back in its place, she took a glass jar from the table and filled it with Sansodor and dropped the used brushes in them only after wiping the paint as much as possible with a cloth. She can deal with them tomorrow, with that thought she washed her hands, removed the apron and hung it back on the wall.

She then meticulously put the painting aside and grabbed her mobile to book the courier agency service for tomorrow to pack her painting carefully and deliver it to the location she mentioned but on second thought she ditched that idea and threw her mobile on the bed side table. She didn’t know when her parents would leave the house the next day, its better to check up on them before contacting courier agency.

Her body suddenly felt heavy and tired, screaming to rest after everything is done and happened today. It’s half past two, she realised yawning and decided to call it a night.