Chapter One: One Way
Hello, my dear readers.
Today's novel isn't your usual love story. It's different—unique—and perhaps based on true events. Who knows? I do. But that shall remain a secret.
There once was a beautiful girl named Cassie. She was so lovable it felt as though angels followed her wherever she went. Flowers bloomed at her touch, birds sang beneath her window, and love seemed woven into her very being—yet she never truly received it.
She had so much love to give. She was a ray of sunshine, inside and out. And you may wonder how someone could shine so brightly in a physical sense. Perhaps it was her light brown hair and eyes, her porcelain skin, her rosy cheeks, her red lips, or the smile that lingered long after she'd left the room.
She almost seemed unreal. But trust me—she was real.
Cassie didn't live a normal childhood—but that's a story for another time.
She blinked, and suddenly she was nineteen, standing on the edge of a decision that would change everything. She was planning to leave her home country, to go to Spain.
She had always known she didn't belong where she was. People around her moved through life quietly, as if something inside them had dimmed. Cassie, on the other hand, was full of life. She wanted to help, to give, to spread happiness wherever she went.
The moment she became an adult, she began planning her escape—unaware that this was the first step toward meeting her soulmate.
Cassie's decision to leave wasn't a choice as much as it was a must. Some houses don't feel like homes, and Cassie's was one of them.
When she received her visa, she cried—for the first time out of happiness. She bought a plane ticket, packed a small suitcase with only the necessities, and headed to the airport alone.
It was her first time ever on a plane, and she chose a one-way ticket. No coming back.
The flight felt peaceful. For the first time in years, she felt safe. She felt comfort.
Two hours later, she was in Madrid.
It was louder than she thought it would be. The streets were full of people who knew exactly where they were going—everyone except her. Cassie tightened her grip on her suitcase and let out a sigh of relief. For the first time, she was heading toward a calm home. No yelling. No screaming. No pressure. Just quiet. Just love.
Madrid smelled like coffee and rain. She had never liked coffee before—she hated it, actually—but standing there, surrounded by unfamiliar beauty, she felt tempted. So she bought her first cappuccino for five euros and sat down to drink it.
She hated it.
And yet she drank it happily, down to the last sip.
Then she called a cab to take her to the apartment she had rented. Her hard work had paid off.
She arrived at her destination.
The cab driver stepped out to help with her suitcase.
"Thank you," she said.
He didn't hear her.
Cassie paused. There was no reason to speak lightly anymore. Her voice didn't need to be small here—not rebellious, not disrespectful—just present.
"Thank you," she said again, louder this time.
He turned and smiled. "You're welcome."
As she turned to leave, he added, "You chose a very strategic place. The university is just a few steps away, and the stadium isn't far either. Foreigners usually like this area."
She smiled. "Lucky me," she laughed.
He drove off, leaving her standing in front of a beautiful, quiet building. It was seven in the evening, mid-August, and the sunset painted everything pink. Most of the windows were open.
An elderly couple cooked together on the first floor. Across from them, two siblings leaned out a window, calling for their mother and asking for money for ice cream.
Cassie's apartment was on the third floor. As she climbed the stairs, she smelled hot meals, heard music spilling from neighboring apartments, a child crying somewhere above her—and, unmistakably, two people having unrealistically loud sex.
She laughed to herself and kept going.
At her door, the landlord was waiting.
"Ah, you're finally here," he said.
"Yeah, sorry. Traffic was unreal," she replied.
"That's Madrid as we know it," he said. "You'll get used to it."
"I definitely should," she said.
He checked his phone. "I'm in a rush. Here are the keys. My number's on the counter if you need anything. You paid a year upfront, so no issues there. Just hoping I won't get any complaints from the neighbors."
Before Cassie could respond, he was already gone.
Chapter two :Queen Bed
The landlord left.
Cassie locked the door behind him and took off her clothes, standing in nothing but her underwear. She had never been able to do that in her old home.
She started exploring.
The kitchen came first. She loved cooking, and she knew she would spend a lot of time there. It mattered that she loved it—and thankfully, she did.
Then the bathroom. Baby pink tiles. She fell in love instantly.
Her bedroom was last. Calm. Warm. Peaceful. A room where she would create boundaries no one could cross.
There was a queen-size bed. Her mother had never allowed her one of those.
The window was wide open, overlooking Madrid and its glowing city lights. Cassie stood there for a long moment, realizing she would see this view every night from now on. And no one could take it from her.
She had created the life she wanted. The life she deserved.
Back in the living room, she picked up her phone.
99+ missed calls.
She sighed. Had her mother followed her here too?
"Jesus," she muttered, setting the phone down.
She began unpacking.
There wasn't much—only the things that mattered.
After unpacking, Cassie picked up her phone again.
More notifications from Mom.
She skipped them and went straight to Instagram, thinking about calling a friend or maybe her cousin. Just as she was about to open her inbox, a sudden noise erupted outside.
She rushed to the window.
Thousands of people flooded the streets below, faces painted, voices loud, wearing red and blue shirts.
"Visca el Barça!"
"Holy shit," she whispered. "I've been so busy I forgot they had a match today."
She hurried back to grab her phone. Buried between the missed calls, a Google notification popped up—the game had just started.
Smiling, she returned to her bed and called her friend. She told her everything: the flight, the apartment, the city, how unreal the day had been.
And how she was lying half naked on her queen-sized bed—
with no one yelling at her,
no one shaming her,
no one telling her her body didn't belong to her.
She ended the call and scrolled through TikTok until she got tired.
She was about to put her phone down when a sense of responsibility hit her.
She picked it up and wrote to her mom:
"I arrived safely. I'll talk to you when you feel calmer—and when I feel safe enough to do so."
She hesitated for a moment before hitting send. Then she did.
She fell asleep calmly. No guilt. No fear. Just rest.
Chapter3:The List
Cassie woke up to sunshine gently touching her face. For a moment, she didn't know where she was.
She wondered if yesterday had been real or just a dream.
But when she opened her eyes and saw her beautiful room—filled with light, peace, and love—she smiled.
"I made it," she whispered.
She picked up her phone. It was 9 a.m. She had overslept a little, but that was okay. There was no one to yell at her for sleeping late, for not making lunch, or for not taking her brother to school.
She decided to take the morning as slowly as possible. No hate. No survival mode. Just a peaceful workout and a healthy breakfast.
Or so she thought.
Five minutes into the day, she realized she had endless tasks. The apartment had nothing in it—only a mattress and a pack of salt left by the previous renters.
She needed to shop.
She got ready and stepped out.
It was her first day out in Madrid.
It was the first time she'd ever worn a crop top without being catcalled or harassed.
People looked happy to start their day.
For the first time ever, she felt a sense of belonging.
She walked slowly but peacefully to the nearest shop she'd found on Google Maps.
For the first time in her life, she had control over what she could buy—and what she didn't have to.
She decided her own budget. No one yelled at her for spending too much. No one told her she was wasting money.
The staff was helpful, and the list she had written six months ago in her notes was extremely useful.
She bought house decorations and groceries—just for one person.
It felt strange. She was used to buying food for five or more.
She also bought herself a bouquet of flowers, something she'd always wanted to do.
And she bought a few plants to keep in her apartment, because she missed the ones she'd left behind.
She stepped outside and raised her hand for a cab. She hadn't thought she'd need one—but here she was. She'd bought too much, more than she could carry on her own.
One pulled over, stopping almost at her feet. A young man stepped out and glanced at her bags before smiling lightly.
"You look like you need help."
"And you look like you're right," she replied.
He took a few of the bags from her without waiting for permission. By the time they were done, there was only one seat left—the front. That alone felt strange. She had never taken a cab before last night, and now she was supposed to sit beside a stranger.
Her stomach twisted, but she got in anyway.
As she settled into the seat, she noticed—annoyingly—that he was kind of cute. She pushed the thought away. Men were at the very bottom of her list right now.
"Where to, madame?" he asked.
"Cuatro Caminos," she said.
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Then, quieter, "Miss. I'm not a madame. I'm a miss."
He blinked, then smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Miss."
"Are you new here?" he asked.
"Yeah. Is it that obvious?"
"Honestly?" he said, glancing at her briefly. "No. You look like you belong here. The miss correction gave you away."
She smiled faintly. "I'll make sure to let it slip next time."
"So," he continued, "you study at the University of Madrid?"
"Yes. International relations."
"Oh, really? What year?"
"First."
He nodded. "Then you'll have Sánchez and Pérez. And the one with green eyes."
"I haven't met them yet," she said. "We start classes next week, I think."
"Right," he said. "First-year students always come in a week late because of the paperwork."
Before she could respond, the cab slowed and stopped in front of her building.
"Which floor?" he asked casually.
Her chest tightened. Why was this stranger asking where she lived?
"Second," she said quickly.
"I can help you with the bags," he offered.
For a moment, she was tempted. Then she reminded herself—at the end of the day, he was still a stranger.
"That's okay," she said kindly. "I've got it."
He helped her unload the bags from the cab, then went on with his day.
She struggled up to the third floor, arms aching, breath uneven—but she made it.
She thought of all the times she'd had to rely on herself. Her parents had handed her responsibility long before she was ready, expecting her to carry it like it was nothing. Compared to that, this was manageable.
When she finally lay down on the bed, the stillness lasted only a moment. A familiar panic crept in—there was still so much to do.
She got up again and began unpacking. Groceries. Cleaning supplies. New bed sheets and pillows. Beautiful pink cups and plates. She placed everything carefully, giving the empty apartment shape and softness.
When she finished, she stood there for a second, weighing her options. She could bake something and introduce herself to the neighbors. Or she could meet with her lawyer and get the paperwork out of the way.
The neighbors could wait.
She gathered her documents and headed back out.
She decided to take a walk this time.
When she arrived at the law firm, it was almost empty. Thank God. It was almost lunchtime, and she hadn't eaten anything since the cup of coffee she'd had next to the airport last night.
She met with her lawyer, signed the paperwork, and walked out feeling lighter than she had all morning.
"Where should I eat?" she whispered to herself.
She pulled up Google Maps—then paused. That's what a tourist would do, she thought. I'll just walk and sit somewhere I like. Hopefully I won't get lost.
She put in her AirPods and started wandering through the beautiful streets of Madrid. She belonged here, yet she was still uniquely herself.
Her energy felt different. It was like a golden aura, bright and impossible to ignore. She could feel people turning to look.
As she walked, a beautiful restaurant caught her eye: La Mi Venta. She went inside, sat down, and waited for the waiter.
A few seconds later, he appeared with the menu.
She smiled and said, "Thank you," then began scanning the menu. After a moment, she decided on lasagna and a fresh mojito.
She sat there, savoring every bite, romanticizing every second of the day. The sunlight through the window made everything feel softer, as if the city itself was welcoming her.
That's when she noticed two girls at a table across from her, filming their meal and laughing at the camera.
A thought hit her—sudden and bright.
She had always wanted to be seen. To be loved. To give love back. Social media could let her do that on a larger scale.
She finished her meal with a new plan forming in her mind. First: shopping. She barely had any clothes. Second: she needed a good phone or camera—something that could start her journey.
She paid for her meal, tipped the waiter, and went over to the girls.
"You're gorgeous," she told them. They smiled and thanked her, and she felt a rush of confidence.
Then she headed to her next stop.
It was shopping time.
Chapter4 :The First Yes
If you're a girl reading this, you can only imagine how happy, excited, and unstoppable Cassie felt walking into that mall.
No budget. No one controlling what she could and couldn't wear. No shame. Just her being herself.
Cassie had a list she'd planned six months ago, just like the groceries. She started with underwear because she LOVED roaming her house barely naked.
Even though she spent half her life with a father who sexualized her and a mom who always encouraged her to have "shame" and hate her body, she never did.
She loved herself—her soul, her kindness, and every inch of her body.
She bought a lot of beautiful lingerie—lots of lace and bows, in every color she could find.
Then she moved to the jeans section.
Her parents always scolded her for having too many clothes, even though half of them were her mom's old clothes that she'd resized and worn. They were ripped and so unprofessionally sewn, and they rarely gave her money to buy new things. If they ever did give her money for a coat or a pair of shoes, she'd hear about it for months afterward, and she wasn't allowed to ask for anything else. If she did, she was "greedy" and "ungrateful."
She remembered one black pair of jeans in particular. She begged her mom for a whole year to buy her new black jeans because the ones she had from three years ago were faded and washed out.
Her mom never bought them.
Her dad always made jokes about how he'd be so successful if he opened a boutique to sell her clothes. That was his excuse for not giving her money.
As she walked through the store, hurtful flashbacks hit her—but she brushed them off. She was miles away from her family now. She was in the middle of Madrid, with her own money, and a store full of jeans she could buy.
She picked jeans that had once been on her wishlist and Pinterest board.
They fit perfectly—her body shaped the way she'd worked so hard to shape, as if those jeans had been made just for her.
The workers complimented her. She was nice to everyone, and everyone was nice to her.
Her dreams were coming true.
No dirty looks. No side eyes. No accusations of "looking at yourself naked in the mirror." No shame.
Just fashion. Just people hyping her up.
She walked out of the store with bags filled with everything she loved. She left feeling confident, cared for—and about two thousand euros poorer.
But hey. It was a good shopping spree.
Next, she headed to an Apple Store.
She hated iPhones. Always had. But everyone knew social media favored Apple quality way more than Android.
She paused, standing just outside the store.
Should she start with an iPhone?
Or invest in a camera right away?
Did she need a microphone? A ring light?
Or could she start without all of that?
A million questions ran through her head.
She stopped, closed her eyes for a second, and took a deep breath.
"Life isn't that serious, Cassie," she whispered to herself. "Calm down."
When she opened her eyes, the decision felt clearer.
She went in and bought a camera—and the latest iPhone.
Chapter5:Spaghetti and Meatballs
She headed home, happiness running through her veins—excited to show everything she bought to her friend and maybe even film her first video.
She called a cab. The sun had just set, and she didn't want to put herself in a vulnerable situation.
The cab dropped her off in front of her building. She climbed the stairs, bags hanging from her arms, barely able to carry them all.
Halfway up, she ran into Maria, her first-floor neighbor.
"Hi," Maria said with a soft smile. "Are you the one who lives in apartment 11?"
"Yeah, that's me," Cassie replied. She set the bags down and reached out her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too. I'm your neighbor on the first floor."
"Oh," Cassie said, smiling. "You live with those two beautiful kids?"
Maria nodded. "Yes—those are my kids. Lilly and Pablo."
"Such beautiful names," Cassie said warmly. "Just as beautiful as they are."
Maria shifted the plate she was holding. "I brought you this, but I didn't find you earlier."
Cassie's heart warmed instantly, her eyes lighting up. "Aww, thank you so much. That's really sweet of you."
She tried to take the plate, but with all the bags, it was impossible.
"Here, let me help you," Maria said.
"Thank you," Cassie replied.
As they continued upstairs, Maria asked, "Do you like it here?"
Cassie smiled. "Yeah. I really do. My life is changing—in a good way."
"That must feel amazing," Maria said. "Live your life. You have so much ahead of you."
Cassie opened the door to her apartment, thankfully neat and clean. Maria headed straight to the kitchen to place the plate down while Cassie carried the bags into her room.
"Thank you again," Cassie said.
As Maria turned to leave, Cassie suddenly called out, "Maria?"
"Yes?"
"Did you cook dinner yet?"
Maria looked a little confused. "Not yet."
Cassie hesitated for a second. If she was being honest, she barely knew her.
Still, she spoke.
"I'd love it if you and your beautiful son and daughter joined me for dinner."
"Oh, but you just got home," Maria said gently. "I wouldn't want to bother you."
"Oh, don't worry," Cassie laughed. "One thing about me—I love cooking, and I love every second I spend in the kitchen."
Maria smiled. "Thank you."
Before she could say anything else, Cassie added, "What's your favorite meal? I went shopping this morning, so hopefully I have everything—but I can always run down the street for extras."
"Oh honey," Maria said, "we'll eat anything you make. Don't worry."
Cassie shook her head playfully. "Please, tell me. I'd love to make something you really want."
"My kids love pasta and meatballs," Maria said.
"What about you?"
"As long as my kids are happy."
Cassie smiled. "And how do you like your steak cooked?"
Maria blinked. "Oh, you don't—"
"I like mine medium-well," Cassie said with a grin. "You'd love it too."
She pulled her golden-brown hair into a claw clip and grabbed the kitchen apron she'd bought that morning, hanging neatly behind the door.
"You can bring the kids up," Cassie said. "They can play while we get to know each other. Or, if you have something to do, that's okay—I'll call you as soon as dinner's ready."
"I'll go get the kids and come back in a second," Maria said.
As she was heading out, Cassie paused her. "Wait—so you live with your two kids only, right? If there's a fourth person… if it's a woman, bring her with you. If it's a man, I'll cook a bit extra so he can eat too."
Maria shrugged. "My boyfriend lives with us, but he's out for the night. Don't bother."
"Okay," Cassie said, already turning back toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Maria came back up with her two kids. She gently told them to greet Cassie.
Cassie immediately put down what she was holding and went to them, hugging and kissing them without hesitation. She loved kids—always had.
"Is it okay if I give them some ice cream and turn on the TV for a bit?" Cassie asked.
"Yeah, sure," Maria replied.
They settled the kids in the living room, then headed back into the kitchen. Maria offered to help, but Cassie waved it off.
"No worries. Just sit down—I'll let you know if I need anything."
Maria sat.
"Coffee?" Cassie asked. "Or juice? I don't have any alcohol—I don't drink—but feel free to bring some if you want."
"Oh, don't worry," Maria said. "I don't drink either."
"Okay," Cassie smiled. "Juice it is."
She grabbed a bottle of red fruits juice from the fridge. "I really love this one. It's the only juice I drink."
Then she laughed softly. "I never drink soda either, but thankfully I bought a bottle today—just in case I ever had guests."
She glanced toward the living room, where the kids' voices floated softly through the apartment.
"And here we are."
Maria looked at Cassie and asked softly, "What are you doing alone in such a big city?"
Cassie smiled, almost to herself. "I followed my heart to freedom."
Maria raised an eyebrow gently. "Oh. So you weren't free before?"
Cassie shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. I didn't choose my past life—but I'm choosing the one I'm living now."
Maria nodded slowly. "It's beautiful that you followed your heart," she said. "Even if circumstances probably pushed you to do otherwise."
"Yeah," Cassie replied. Then she looked at her. "What about you? How did you end up here?"
Maria's gaze dropped to the floor. "I followed my boyfriend," she said quietly. "After I got pregnant, my parents wanted me to abort the twins. When I refused… they kicked me out."
The kitchen fell silent.
After a moment, Maria added, almost in a whisper, "Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice."
Cassie reached for her hands and held them gently. "I'm so sorry you went through all of that," she said. "But Maria, darling—your kids could never be a wrong choice."
"Yeah," Maria said softly. "You're right."
Cassie turned back to the stove, stirring gently. "Life is beautiful, Maria. I'm not saying it's perfect—perfection doesn't exist. But beauty does. It exists in small corners, in broken things, in hidden treasures. Beauty is everywhere."
She paused for a second, then continued, quieter.
"Sometimes you need to step away from it to see it clearly. You lost your parents when you chose your kids. Trust me—no one understands you like I do. I lost my parents when I chose freedom."
She glanced over her shoulder. "But is it really a loss if what you gain is bigger than we ever imagined?"
Maria exhaled slowly. "I never thought of it that way."
Cassie smiled. "Yeah. Positivity is something we learn. Unfortunately, we're not born with it."
Before Maria could reply, Cassie handed her four plates. "Here—could you put these on the table, please?"
Maria blinked. "You're done already?"
Cassie laughed. "Yeah. I'm used to cooking a four-course meal on a random Tuesday. Spaghetti and meatballs are nothing for me."
"I wish I could do that," Maria said.
Cassie hesitated. Then she looked toward Lilly and Pablo playing in the living room. Those kids deserved a hot meal.
"I can teach you," Cassie said gently. "If you want, of course."
Maria looked caught off guard. "You'd do that?"
"Yeah," Cassie shrugged. "I love cooking. An extra person in the kitchen won't hurt."
"I'll pay you," Maria offered quickly.
Cassie laughed. "Girl, pay me for what? Watching me cook?"
Maria smiled. "That's really nice of you."
The plates were already on the table—two with spaghetti and meatballs, two with medium-well steak and vegetables.
"Pablo! Lilly! Dinner's ready!" Cassie called out without thinking.
Maria turned to her, studying her face. "Cassie… how old are you?"
Cassie raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm young—that's why you're asking?" She smiled. "I am young. I'm nineteen."
Maria froze. "Nineteen? I was your age when I had Pablo and Lilly."
Cassie tilted her head, teasing gently. "You having flashbacks?"
"Yeah," Maria admitted. "I am."
The silence didn't last long.
"Thank you, Mom," Pablo said suddenly, his mouth still full. "This is really tasty."
Maria smiled. "Oh baby, you should thank Aunt—"
Cassie gently interrupted her. "Let him appreciate his mommy."
They continued eating, talking about life, laughing softly. Halfway through dinner, Cassie's phone lit up on the table.
A notification from Google.
Barça match tomorrow at 8.
Schedule • Watch • Buy ticket • Ignore
Cassie glanced at it, then looked up. "Maria, do you support Barça?"
Before Maria could answer, Pablo's eyes lit up. "I do! I love them!"
Cassie smiled. "Would you be interested in watching the game tomorrow? I'm going, and I don't really have anyone to go with."
Maria hesitated. "I'll let you know tomorrow."
They finished dinner still talking, the plates slowly emptying. When they were done, Maria stood up.
"I'll wash the dishes."
Cassie shook her head kindly. "No, it's okay. I've got it."
Maria didn't argue.