The Indifference of a Man Forgotten (BOOK 1)

--Dahlia POV--

People always long for the forbidden things. We want what we are not meant to touch, and sometimes we realise that far too late.

That truth settled into me on the day I understood that I loved him, truly loved him, and that the feeling was something I would have to keep quietly to myself.

Because I was never meant to love Marcos Romano.

I came from nowhere. He came from everything.

While fate had been kind enough to place me in a loving home, it had never erased the gap between us. Marcos was the heir to the largest conglomerate in the world, raised under chandeliers and expectations. I was an orphan adopted into warmth and stability, forever careful not to reach too far, not to want too much.

And Marcos knew it too.

Not cruelly. Not deliberately.

He never saw me as anything more than a friend, and he made that clear in the most innocent way possible. Why else would he ask me for advice about the girls he dated? Why else would he speak to me so freely about love, knowing I stood safely outside of it?

We met when we were children. Our parents became business partners, which meant overlapping dinners, shared holidays, and awkward introductions that eventually turned into something familiar.

Marcos was a year older than me, louder, brighter, and far more confident. I would have stayed silent forever if he hadn’t chosen to speak to me first.

I have always been quiet, I don’t see that changing nor do I truly want it to.

Before my adoption, I learned that silence was safer, that if you took up too much space then people eventually left. That fear stayed with me long after I was brought into a home where my dads’, Oliver and Nico gave me everything they had. Love, patience, gentleness. They never once made me feel unwanted, yet the fear lingered anyway, buried deep enough to be easy to ignore but impossible to erase.

They discovered my favourite things with a care that still makes my chest ache when I think about it. The night sky. Soft lights. Stillness. They learned what scared me, what I loved, what could hurt me, and they protected all of it fiercely. I grew up knowing love in abundance thanks to them.

But despite all of that, I made sure to never ask for more.

Because what if one day they grew tired of me too?

I hated that part of myself, the pessimism and the doubt, so I tried to soften it. I smiled often, laughed when expected, and I became easy to have around. I thought, maybe if I perfected that version of myself, the fear of being abandoned would stop feeling so real?

I know I’m not perfect, I’m far from it. But I am, at the very least, grateful.

“Dahlia!”

The sound of my name jolted me back to reality.

And I turned, just in time to see Marcos, the cause of my thoughts, standing there with the same cheeky grin that was able to make my heart throb. The classroom had thinned out around us; conversations hushing as attention shifted naturally toward him. He never had to ask for it.

He was a year older than me, and I always hated it, because that one year difference between us made it seem like the world was between us, especially in high school. Different classes, different friend groups, different lives.

“What is it?” I yawned, stretching my arms out to relax my muscles.

He was dressed in his usual jersey, hair falling into a deliberate mess that somehow never looked unkempt. He spun a chair around and sat on the desk in front of me as if he owned the room, which, in many ways, he did.

“Did you fall asleep in the middle of class again?” He reached out, ruffling my hair without thinking as if it were natural for him. It was.

Marcos Romano was everything everyone wanted to be. Rich, handsome, kind, smart, and athletic, you name it he was it. I always made fun of him for it; that it was almost scary how perfect he was, and of course, he always replied humbly, saying that I was just boosting his ego. But I didn’t need to say anything for everyone to know.

He was the school’s golden boy, every teachers favourite student, the ace of the football team. He walked into a room and didn’t need to say a word for people to notice him. Girls loved him, boys wanted to be him, but Marcos? He was so innocently stupid that he could only wonder why.

“You need to break that habit of yours, Dahlia. You’re already so terrible at maths, so you can’t afford to become worse.” He lectured as I frowned my response.

“It’s not like I purposefully fall asleep, dad.” I mocked, sticking a tongue out at him.

He chuckled. “This daughter of mine, so irresponsible.” He played along, shaking his head as I jokingly pushed his shoulder, instilling a laugh from him.

“Mr Richards’ voice is like a lullaby, it always puts me to sleep. And I can’t believe no one even bothered to wake me up.” I gave my excuse with an added scoff of betrayal.

“They’ve tried before. You just sleep through everything. I’m convinced you could nap in the middle of a war at this point.” Instead of nudging his shoulder, I slapped it this time, but he only continued to laugh that perfectly natural laugh of his. Deep, natural, irresistable.

Honestly, what was it that I even liked about him?

“Come on, let’s get lunch, I’m starving.” He said, already standing. Taking my arm, he pulled me along without waiting for an answer, and as usual, I followed instinctively, matching his pace as we walked through the halls.

“What’s for lunch?” I asked.

“Spaghetti Carbonara or Beef something, I’m not sure.” He answered, itching the back of his head as he spoke, something he did whenever he was confused or lost in thought.

“Hey, Marcos! Come eat with us! You too Dahlia!” One of his friends called from a nearby table in the cantene, already having gotten their lunch.

“No can do. You know that the beginning of my lunch is always reserved for Dahlia, stop trying to steal her from me.” He was quick to respond as his friend scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Stop keeping her to yourself, Dahlia’s our friend too.”

“She’s more mine.” And as if to confirm his words, his arm hung over my shoulder, pulling me close, his smile redirecting to face me. I looked away before he could see my reaction.

I guess I can see where my love stemmed from.

Marcos always made time for what mattered. Whether that was eating lunch with my shy self, winning every football match for the school, or acing each exam with a near perfect grade, it all came effortlessly to him. Yet somehow, he carried it lightly, never acting as though it defined him. He remembered what mattered, he showed up and he made time.

In all honesty, loving him was easy. Living with that love was not.

Because I know that I’ll never be able to love anyone else the way I love him. I didn’t know whether that was a gift or a curse though.

“What are you going to do once I leave?” He curiously asked, biting into his lunch.

“What do you mean?” I hesitated.

“For one whole year, what will you do without me, Dahlia?” He chuckled, resting his chin in his hand as he waited for my response.

Ah, right. He was a year older than me, and in his last year of high school. That meant graduation was soon, followed by university in london, meaning distance.

But as always, I swallowed the disappointment along with the looming reality which I tried so hard to forget before shrugging. Simply, nonchalantly, nothing obvious.

“I’ll survive. I’m not as helpless as you think.” I answered half-heartedly, twirling the spaghetti around my fork. He studied me for a minute, humming lightly, not believing me.

“You don’t like eating with just anyone.” I smiled faintly at that, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Are you worried about me?” I jokingly asked to which he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Partially.” But he answered honestly, nonetheless.

“You can worry about your girlfriend instead, what was her name again? Kylie? Yeah, her.” I swiftly changed the subject away from me and to his current relationship.

“Didn’t I tell you? I broke up with her.” He blinked.

My fork paused midair as I was about to take a bite of my spaghetti. And I watched as those steel grey eyes of his narrowed in amusement, focusing in on me.

“What? When?” I could only bring myself to ask.

“A few days ago. It wasn’t going to work out, but there’s no bad blood between us.” I hummed, continuing to eat my food, unsurprised. The list of women he’s dated is a long one, he’s rarely single, but he’s never once had a bad breakup, they were all mutual agreements from both ends.

“I wonder... how bad of a boyfriend are you? To have girls that once pined after you so desperately willing to break up with you without complaint.” I raised a brow teasingly.

“I’m not a bad boyfriend. Have you ever heard of this thing called chemistry?” He was offended, putting a hand to his chest as though I had just physically wounded him.

“Yes, although I admit I’m no good at it.” I mumbled dryly, which only earned me a stinging flick to the forehead as I hissed, rubbing the sore spot as I glared at him.

“I’m talking about the relationship chemistry. There needs to be some sort of reaction between two people who plan on living the rest of their lives with each other. And unfortunately, there’s been none of that inanyof my relationships which is why they all ended.” He pointed his fork at me before digging into his plate to continue with his meal as I stared at him for a belated second.

Of course I knew what he was talking about. Marcos never dated for fun, he only dated with the intention of eventual marriage, which many people made fun of him for because he was barely an adult, but me? I just loved him for it even more.

“Forget my dating life for a moment though, how is your skating going?” I halted at his words, surprised for a split second that he even remembered since it’s been a while since I last mentioned anything about it.

“You remember?” He scoffed, offended by the question.

“Of course, I remember. You think I’d forget just because you didn’t mention it for some time?” Well, yes, I did think that. Not that I’ll admit it to him though.

Figure skating is something that I’ve been doing since before I can remember. Along with Marcos, it was also my first love, and the reason why I’m so far behind on my studies because it takes up a lot of dedicated time.

“I’m just... mildly surprised.” I quietly spoke as I finished my food, patting my mouth clean of any residue before going to drink my waiting water as he continued to wait for my response.

“So, are you going to tell me or am I supposed to guess?” He raised a brow.

“I’ll be missing out on quite a lot of my studies in the upcoming year, so I’ll have to do lots of independent studying.” I spoke without missing a single beat.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” He asked, confused.

“I made the national team.”

“...What?” He breathed out, eyes enlarging in surprise as my lips crawled up into a proud grin.

“My training starts soon, so I’ll be busy. And once I graduate high school, I’ll be able to join bigger competitions like the grand prix, maybe even the Olympics, as the face of Italy.” His reaction was everything I didn’t know I needed. Surprise. Pride. And joy so genuine that it wrapped around me and lifted me off my feet, literally.

“Are you crazy! Why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” He pulled back, hands holding onto my cheeks as he leaned down, lips touching the top of my head in an electrocuting manner. Truly, I could never get used to these little gestures of affection he put me through.

“I was going to, eventually.” I mumbled as he pulled me back against his chest, and I returned the tight hug with my own.

“You’re incredible, Dahlia!” Laughter laced his every word, and it was a contagious kind of laughter that had me laughing along with him.

“Thanks.” I sighed, eyes climbing up to meet his waiting ones as his hand came to caress my cheek, thumb stroking back and forth for a moment too long. And once he realised, he blinked out of his reverie, moving his hand away with an awkward chuckle. I pretended not to notice.

“I guess we’re both moving forward, aren’t we?” He reminisced quietly.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” I nodded along, my fingers dancing along my cheek where his hand had been placed a moment ago.

“We’ll stay in contact though, right? You’re a good friend that I don’t want to lose because of distance. Maybe even one day if we’re both gifted with children then they’ll be good friends just like we are, wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” His words stabbed my heart in the coldest way possible, but as always, I nodded along with a smile.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” Once again, I had to remind myself that Marcos would never be mine. But that’s fine, I told myself. I can’t have everything, I echoed.

Instead, I chose something else to want. Something I could reach for without breaking myself. Figure skating, gold medals, and a future that belonged to me.

Marcos was only a first love. A quiet, temporary ache. One that I will never forget, but one that I will learn and then grow from.

I trusted that he was a love that will fade with time. He had to be.

...