that scent of Chanel no. 5. Her mother sprayed it on as if it was water, before turning towards where her daughter was seated on the couch in her dressing room.

Mahsati Nawar was a woman made of those last warm rays of the sun - the kind of person whose presence you wanted to linger in forever and whose charming words warmed your heart as you wondered how you were graced with her.

Her Uzbek and Brazilian heritage had caused her to be fluent in at least five languages before she was eleven, something Mahsati had been able to use well in her modeling and acting carreer across the world. A long sheet of onyx hair fell down her back, her cinnamon eyes glowing golden in the light everytime she laughed.

And although her mother was one of the most well-known people in the world, Jasmina didn't admire her for that. No, she admired how her mother always got her way, she admired how everyone fell for that charm, she admired her cunning mind and cutting words.

"Mina," her mother said and she looked up, bored eyes meeting her mother's.

"Yeah?" she said.

She was twelve at that point, but nothing in the world interested her. Every day consisted out of her waking up and having to study, from manners to business, all to raise her to be the best possible heir to the Nawar fortune. She was good at it, that much could be given, so much even that some proclaimed her a genius.

It was a statement that irked her. She wasn't a genius, she worked hard for everything she achieved. Not that it seemed to matter - she had learned early that the whole world thought she got everything handed to her on a silver platter.

This was one of her rare breaks, where her mother brought her out to show off her pretty, wonderful daughter. She always did her best to perform well, if only to prove to herself that she could be as good an actor as her mother. Although she would never admit how much, she did love acting. There was some sort of freedom in becoming whoever, in not being the Jasmina Nawar, the girl everyone should look up to and fear.

It wasn't always fun to learn her whole youth how to stand tall with the weight of the world's expectations on her shoulders.

Still, despite how she liked acting and following her mother to star along with her in a minor role in whatever she was playing in, she had a new reason to want to go home these days.

She had picked up a cat a few days ago, a thin tabby which she had found at the side of the road. Alan had asked her what compelled her to do it, had chastised her that it was dirty, but she just ignored him. The cat was hers now and she would take care of it.

"You seem like you'd rather be somewhere else," her mother said with raised eyebrows," don't you always like coming here and playing with your lovely mother?"

"I suppose," Jasmina said as she looked away.

"Don't tell me you'd pick something over quality time with me," her mother said as she neared, full lips set in a pout as she patted Jasmina on her head," you'd break my heart."

Jasmina was pretty sure her mother didn't have a heart. It was another thing she admired about the woman - her father may be one of the most powerful men in the world, but her mother, oh her mother could end people with a flick of her manicured hand.

"You know there's nothing I'd rather do," she smiled up at her.

"That's what I'd like to hear," her mother said," now come dress up, you're supposed to look pretty and presentable in ten minutes."

"I always look pretty and presentable, mother," she said as she got off the couch.

"I taught you right," her mother said fondly as she patted her on the head," now get ready."

She closed the door behind her as she left and Jasmina sat down on the rotating chair in front of the make up table, hands expertly finding what she needed.

"Are you still busy?"

Jasmina looked at the door, her eyes locking with Alan's as he entered. In response to his question she just waved her eyeshadow brush at him, before continuing to apply a soft brown to her eyelids.

"You don't need that, Jas," he said," you're pretty enough, now come play."

"I know I don't need it, Alan," she said as she spun around towards him on her rotating chair," but I like it."

"Make up is boring," Alan said as he neared her, hand on her shoulder as he leaned his head forward to whisper in her ear," wouldn't you rather talk with me?"

A shiver ran down her spine and she turned her head away from him, hand on her ear.

"You know my ears are ticklish, Alan," she said," don't do that."

"I know," he said as he flashed her a grin," that's exactly why I did it."

Even though she wouldn't have tolerated that close proximity from anyone else, Alan was different. They were childhood friends who had known each other since birth and recently, he had been getting more affectionate. He always knew the way to her heart though, a present in his hand whenever they saw each other outside of school. It was something small most of the time, a flower, a pretty stone, a candy ring. As they got older they got more extravagant though and he spun her around towards him as he held up a ruby necklace.

"For you," he said.

She looked at the gleaming silver, eyes slowly tracing over it as she wondered what to do with this little crush of his. It wasn't like she didn't like Alan, she did - as a brother. But they fit together, she couldn't deny it. From their important family name to their priorities, they were practically one and the same.

Together they would be the golden couple and God knows she always had loved gold.

"I'm guessing this was a little more expensive than that marigold you gave me," she said as she grazed her fingers across the jewels, before looking him in the eyes," why the gift?"

"Nothing is too much for me," he grinned as she pushed her hair out of the way and he clasped it," and why not?"

He was right though, Alan Lewis was a mess of loud emotions and uninhibited desires, the kind of person who would never be satisfied with just a small thing. Once he had wondered where to host his birthday party and she had told him just to hire the most expensive mansion in the city. Instead he had hired every possible mansion in the city, closing out an entire section just for his party alone.

The rubies were heavy on her collarbone and she knew it wasn't just the weight of the jewels that was pressing on her right now, but also the weight of his expectations. Still, even though she wasn't sure about whatever kind of feelings she had for Alan and the logical part of her told her to refuse the gift, she pushed that part out without thinking twice.

Sure, she was materialistic, but she didn't care - the rubies looked good on her after all.

"They are beautiful," she said as she looked in the mirror.

"You are beautiful," he said and she cringed internally as she looked him in the eye through the mirror, knowing what was to come before he even said it.

"Jasmina, will you be my girlfriend?"

She smelled the Chanel before she even saw the person and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not when her mother spoke.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Miss Nawar," Alan said as he looked at her mother, an embarassed blush starting on his cheeks.

He didn't blush often, or at all, but Jasmina could imagine being caught halfway during a confession by the person's mother wasn't that comfortable. She didn't hide her smile though as she looked at her mother.

"What is it?" she said.

"Just some unfortunate news," her mother said as she tapped her nails on the door.

As Jasmina followed the movement of her mother's scarlet nails, she couldn't help but think it was blood that was coloring them for a moment. A jittery feeling was creeping up on her, like something was wrong, before the spiders settled in her lungs.

Nothing was ever right when her mother smiled like this.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"We found a dead cat in our mansion," her mother said as she placed a hand in mock grief over her heart," the poor thing somehow found it's way in and someone from the staff accidentally killed it in his attempt to chase it away."

Jasmina blinked, at a loss for words for the first time in her life, but her mother continued speaking soon enough.

"Don't worry," she said," it was just an ugly stray cat anyway, something like that doesn't matter -" There was a warning hidden in her voice as her mother's lips curled up in a ghost of a smile and Jasmina caught it with ease. "- right?"

Her lips parted, but for a second she was lost for words. She didn't know why she had cared so much for it, especially since it had indeed been an ugly stray cat. Still, it had been her ugly stray cat.

As words died on the graveyard of her tongue, all she could think about was that she hadn't even given it a name.

"Are you upset that a dirty cat got in your house?" Alan asked her," I can get you a beautiful purebred one instead, if you want to."

Her acting was flawless as she smiled, a mirror image of her mother when she shook her head.

"No," she said," it's fine, I was just thinking I should throw away whatever it touched."

"Wonderful thinking, my dear," her mother smiled.

And then a dark-haired Persian girl accidentally spilled a can full of paint all over her mother.

Purple dripped down her mother's seething face as the girl placed her hands in front of her full lips. Jasmina wondered if she was imagining it as she looked at her, because although the girl's face was shocked, her honey eyes were filled with what seemed to be pure amusement.

"I will end you for this," her mother hissed," what's your name?"

"Oh, please don't," the girl said, but Jasmina had acted enough to know there was no true fear in the girl's voice as she looked at her mother," I would be so sad. It's Lucy, by the way."

The girl winked at her then and Jasmina frowned in confusion as she blew a kiss at her.

And then she woke up.