Velika: The story of a lover

"I don't remember much of my biological father. He was a tall, slim and had dark brown hair, just like mine. In my memory, he and my mother were constantly fighting, and I was crying in the corner. Eventually my mother would come and comfort me, I knew that she was crying too, but she always kissed me on my check and said everything will be fine. My mother was a beautiful woman, everyone knew her told me that I have her eyes, to which I'm very fond of, and she was the bravest woman that I've ever known. I also don't recall much from the days that I was in Britain. I'm British, believe it or not, well, only half, my mother's family for sure wasn't British, they were some European decent that couldn't really trace back.

When I was around two, my mother took me to Germany, and I haven't been back to Britain ever since, that's almost 27 years. My mother was married after high school and had me after university, the divorce made her realize that she had to follow her own dreams. So, she did her master's degree in psychology, then her PhD. It was at that university, she met Herr Doktor Schneider, who later became my step-father, and his good friend, who was also a master's student at that time, my Uncle Aaron.

Later they had my baby sister, Belle. Belle was a sweet child, the sweetest a child could possibly be. But I wasn't nice to her, I thought that she took all my mother's attention away from me. I would take her food, hide her dolls, say mean things to her, yet she never told my mother about it. She told me that she loved me, she said that I have the prettiest eyes in the world, even prettier than her dolls. I guess that was the earliest point that I realized, I could get around things and people because of my looks. Shallow, I know, but Velika, we live in a shallow world. You know a large part of you like me because of my face, even you would never admit it. And how much would this matter after today, after I tell you my life, would you still like me the same?"

Landon Hetherington did not let Velika O'Sullivan say a word, instead, he continued:

Two orphans, where would they possibly go? Herr Schneider's parents were willing to take Belle, but not me since they never took me as their grandson. My mother was the only child and her father had passed a long time ago, and her mother was nowhere near in good conditions to take care of a newly-orphaned ten-year-old. Belle's grandparents were contemplating to send me back to my biological father, whom they were trying hard to track down. For eight years, that man didn't even bother to ask how my mother and I were, suddenly got back in touch and claimed that he could be a good father. I begged Belle' grandparents not to send me back to Britain, but that didn't help much.

Then, Uncle Aaron stepped in. As a great friend of him to my stepfather was, he decided to adopt me so that I could stay in Germany instead of going to a man who I barely had recollection of. He was only 27 when he adopted me, and part of me believed I was the reason that he never got married. Who would want to marry a 27-year-old with a 10-year-old adopted son? At that time, he wasn't as successful as he is today as well. I felt guilty, but I never told him so.

When I was 13, due to his work reasons, I moved to New York with Uncle Aaron. That was when we started getting more than enough income and were no longer tight in spending anymore. Uncle Aaron had such high expectations in me, he wanted me to get a degree, be an excellent scientist like he is, perhaps not in psychology, but something I have my particular interest in.

But I was rebel, perhaps still a rebel today. I had my first so called serious girlfriend when I was 19, and she was, let's say, nerve wracking. Regardless of how she was, let's put the past to the past, I didn't end up going to university. And this, of course, made Uncle Aaron mad. He would support me through school, he told me that I didn't have to work that much, he would pay for my tuition. I didn't want to listen to him. I thought I was a man, and a man should support himself instead of feeding off on someone he already owed so much. Don't get me wrong, I love Uncle Aaron, he was the fatherliest figure I had in my life and there was no way for me to payback all the kindness he did to me. But as a hot-headed 19-year-old, I took all that as he wanted to restrict me and control my life. So, I left him. I left New York, came to San Francisco, where I began to work for another architecture company, and around three years ago, this company reached to me and asked me to be the department supervisor, where I happily took the job, and been working like this since.

This morning I got a call at work, it was from Germany, from my sister's husband. I've never met him before, so I was surprised. Then, he told me that my dear sister died in a car accident. Now, Velika, I don't have any family left in this world anymore. I don't know if my biological father is still around, I haven't talk to Uncle Aaron ever since I left him. He probably thinks that I'm nothing but a disgrace, and wasted all his time, tried to bring me up the best he could. I didn't realize how hard it must have been until I was 27, I could not possibly imagine how it would be like to take care of a 10-year-old. I want to call him, tell him that I'm fine now and I've made my way up to where I'm satisfied at. But I'm so afraid, Velika, I'm so afraid. Part because of my pride, and part because I'm ashamed to even hear his voice again."