The Hacienda Hernandez

Maya's POV

"Rich! When did you arrive?" I asked, unable to stop the wide smile spreading across my face. My heart lifted at the sight of him—familiar, comforting, and always so effortlessly kind.

"I got in late last night," he replied, his voice gentle. "I wanted to drop by, but Mom said I might disturb you. Anyway—" he reached into the backseat and pulled out a large, beautifully wrapped box tied with white satin ribbons, "—congratulations, Valedictorian. You deserve this."

"Thank you, Rich… but you didn't have to get me anything," I said, though I couldn't help but touch the bow, appreciating the care he'd put into it.

He smiled. "I wanted to. Besides, Mom kept asking me to pick you up today. She didn't want you walking to the farm again. She's eager for you to visit the flower garden."

Warmth bloomed in my chest. I always felt welcome in their home, but hearing how much Donya Esmeralda looked forward to seeing me made it even more special.

"I'll just put this inside," I said, rushing into the house to place the box gently on my bamboo bed. Then I slipped back outside, not wanting to keep him waiting.

"You don't have to rush, Maya," Rich said with a laugh as he opened the passenger door. "I'm in no hurry. I know you're not starting work until tomorrow. Today, my mom just wants to gush about her orchids—and show off her new 'babies.'"

I chuckled, sliding into the seat. "She really calls them that."

"She's serious about it, too." Rich grinned as he started the car. "But honestly, Maya, I'm glad I got to see you. It's been too long. And I'm so proud of you—balancing farm work, your studies… and still graduating at the top of your class. That's incredible."

His praise made my cheeks burn. "Thanks, Rich. I'm just relieved graduation is over. I missed visiting your garden so much while preparing for exams."

"Well, now you're free," he said, glancing at me with a boyish grin. "Time to enjoy summer."

I smiled—until he added, "So, how are things with your Prince Charming?"

I gave him a sharp look. "Seriously?"

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "Come on. Don't pretend you don't know who I'm talking about. I know your preferences haven't changed. You might act indifferent, but it's obvious—you still like him."

I sighed and leaned against the car window, letting the breeze cool my burning cheeks.

"You're right," I said quietly. "He'll probably always have a place in my heart… but I've had enough. I can't keep letting Adonis hurt me over and over. I'm done making a fool of myself. Maybe it's time I go crazy over someone else."

Rich glanced at me. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, trying to sound braver than I felt. "I have to be."

"Well, I hope you mean it this time," he said, a hint of worry behind his playful tone. "I know what he did last year. And honestly, Maya—you deserve better."

"I slapped him this morning," I blurted out, surprising even myself.

His eyes widened. "Wait, what?!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Yup. Right across the face. He didn't even say anything after. Just walked off."

Rich burst into laughter. "Jake texted me about that, but I thought he was joking. I can't believe you actually did it!"

"Now you believe me?"

"Well, yeah. You're braver than all of us," he said, still chuckling. "I just hope it didn't mess things up between you two any more than they already are."

"We were already messed up," I muttered. "Anyway, I know you two are close. I don't want to come between you."

"You're not. Adonis is my best friend, and I'll always be honest with him. But I'm your friend too, Maya. I can't pretend what he did was right."

"I appreciate that. But let's stop talking about it," I said, shaking my head. "It's not a good memory, and I'm doing everything I can to forget."

Rich gave a small nod. "Fair enough. Just… don't hate him too much. He's not as heartless as he seems. There's something going on with him. I don't know what, but I can feel it."

"Maybe," I said softly. "Or maybe he just hates that I exist."

We were nearing the grand arch of the Hernandez Hacienda, and despite the ache in my heart, the view before me made it hard not to smile. The white mansion stood tall, elegant and timeless, framed by rows of blooming roses that lined the driveway like a floral parade.

The closer we got, the more the air filled with the scent of lavender and fresh-cut grass.

As we approached the porch, I spotted Donya Esmeralda waiting with a warm smile, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked regal, her beauty ageless, the soft traces of her Spanish heritage evident in every graceful movement.

"Maya, thank you for coming!" she exclaimed as she met us halfway.

"Good afternoon, Donya Esmeralda. Thank you so much for inviting me—and for letting me work here this summer," I said, smiling back.

"You're always welcome here, my dear. You're my favorite, you know that? Not just because you're hardworking and humble—but because the flowers seem to bloom brighter when you're around."

Her words touched me more than I expected.

"Rich, ask one of the maids to bring snacks to the greenhouse," she said. "We'll be in the conservatory first, then head to the orchid garden."

"Wait, Mom," Rich interjected, confused. "I thought Maya starts work tomorrow. Why the rush?"

"I can't wait," Donya Esmeralda replied. "She has to meet my new babies!"

I laughed softly. She always called her orchids "babies," and the way her eyes sparkled whenever she spoke about them made me feel like I was stepping into a fairytale garden.

And right then, for the first time in a long while, I felt peace blooming in my chest.

We rode in Donya Esmeralda's pickup truck toward the nursery, the warm breeze brushing past my face and teasing the ends of my hair. The golden fields of sunflowers swayed gently with the wind, their tall heads turned toward the fading afternoon light like a sea of hope. I couldn't take my eyes off them—they were in full bloom now, standing proud and vibrant.

Donya Esmeralda glanced at me from the driver's seat and smiled knowingly. "Tomorrow morning, Maya, I'll need your help harvesting these beauties," she said. "We've got bulk orders coming in from several flower shops in the city. It'll be an early start."

I nodded eagerly. "I'd love that."

I already knew the drill. Sunflowers had to be harvested early—just after sunrise—before the heat could make them wilt. We would carefully snip the stems and immediately place them into buckets of water to keep them fresh. Then they'd be transferred to cool storage, far from direct sunlight. It was a delicate routine I had memorized through the summers, one that felt almost sacred to me.

Even after all these years, I never got tired of working with them. Every sunflower I picked reminded me that beauty could grow even in the most ordinary soil. And when the season shifted and their seeds grew plump and heavy, I loved gathering those too—tiny treasures of golden promise.

Yes, the work could be tiring. My feet ached after long hours. My back stiffened. But when I stood in the middle of the flower fields, surrounded by color and life, I felt something I rarely felt anywhere else: peace. Purpose. Joy.

As we continued down the narrow path toward the greenhouse, Banaba trees lined both sides of the road, their lavender blossoms cascading like waterfalls of color. It felt like we were entering a dream—somewhere too beautiful to be real. I smiled without even realizing it.

"That's what I love about you, Maya," Donya Esmeralda said warmly, stealing a glance at me. "You truly see them—the flowers, the trees. You connect with them like they're old friends. I always see you whispering to them when you think no one's watching." She chuckled. "You and I are alike that way. I talk to my plants too, especially my orchids. Maybe that's why they bloom so generously."

I laughed with her, touched by her words. "Maybe they bloom because they feel loved."

"Exactly," she replied.

By the time we reached the orchid garden, I was already in awe. The greenhouse behind us had been impressive, but this—this was another level entirely. Her vanda collection stretched across the trellises like a living rainbow, petals in shades of deep violet, pale pink, fiery orange, and soft butter yellow. Each bloom looked like it had been painted by hand.

Donya Esmeralda walked beside me, pointing out the rare hybrids and proudly naming each one like a mother introducing her children. I listened intently, occasionally brushing my fingers along a velvety petal or inhaling the light, powdery scent in the air. It was magical—like stepping into a secret world where everything was still and sacred.

We stayed there for nearly two hours, losing track of time in the maze of orchids and quiet stories. I had never seen her so alive. And I, too, felt something I hadn't in a while—lightness, like the world outside the garden didn't exist for a while.

But all magic ends eventually.

As we made our way back to the main house, I spotted a red sports car parked beside Rich's—sleek, bold, impossible to miss.

My breath hitched. I didn't need to see the driver's face to know who it belonged to.

Adonis.

And suddenly, the sunlight didn't feel as warm. The rhythm of my heartbeat picked up, uneven, as nerves and memory flooded my chest. I stood still beside the pickup as Donya Esmeralda walked ahead to fetch the snacks. I told myself to breathe. To stay calm.

But then I saw him.

Adonis Monleon, lounging on a patio chair like he owned the universe. He wore a black T-shirt that hugged his sculpted chest and tattered jeans that made him look maddeningly careless. Dark aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, but I felt his gaze—sharp, heavy, watching.

And despite everything—the slap, the heartbreak, the betrayal—I couldn't stop staring.

He looked like sin and summer and everything I swore I'd forget.

His presence unravelled me. Just when I thought I was healing, there he was again, pulling loose every thread I had carefully stitched back together. I hated how handsome he looked. I hated how my heart still skipped when he was near. I hated how I almost forgot I was supposed to hate him.