Back at the Vanderbilt Mansion, Charlie, freshly discharged from the hospital, found herself grappling with the frustrating task of practicing her left-handed handwriting. With each attempt resulting in scrawled, barely legible letters, Charlie's frustration reached a boiling point.

"I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!!" Charlie exclaimed, flinging her pen across the room in a fit of frustration.

"Miss... it's only the first time you're trying to write with your left hand... it's okay," Aunt Carol offered, her soothing voice attempting to calm Charlie's mounting frustration.

But Charlie's determination was unwavering as she stubbornly returned to her task, each of the pen met with a groan of dissatisfaction. Despite Aunt Carol's attempts at reassurance, Charlie's frustration only seemed to intensify with each unsuccessful attempt.

With furrowed brows and clenched fists, Charlie persisted, determined to master the art of left-handed writing no matter how many times she stumbled along the way. For Charlie, this was more than just a matter of penmanship—it was a test of resilience, a challenge she refused to let defeat her. And so, with gritted teeth and unwavering determination, Charlie continued to practice, each bringing her one step closer to mastering her newfound skill.

As Aunt Carol prepared to leave, a junior maid approached with news of a bouquet of daisies sent to Charlie.

"Aunt Carol, someone sent a bouquet of daisies to our young miss..." the maid announced.

"Does it say where it came from?" Aunt Carol inquired with interest.

"It said that it came from the eldest son of the Alderbrandt family... Cato Alderbrandt. I heard he met the Miss at the Auction," the junior maid explained.

"Oh..." Aunt Carol responded, a hint of intrigue coloring her tone.

"They heard about the Miss being discharged from the hospital, and the eldest son personally picked the flowers himself," the maid continued, providing further details.

Serena, who happened to pass by, overheard the conversation, her grip tightening on the pen she held.

'Cato Alderbrandt? Wasn't he the man Uncle Robert mentioned? The one Charlie was talking to all night at the Auction?' Serena's mind raced with thoughts as she absorbed the revelation.

Seeing Aunt Carol about to return to Charlie's room with the flowers, Serena swiftly intervened.

"Aunt Carol..." Serena called out.

"Yes, Miss Serena?" Aunt Carol responded, turning her attention to Serena.

"You can hand me the flowers, and I'll deliver them to Charlie myself. I was just on my way to her room," Serena suggested.

"Oh, okay, Miss... Thank you," Aunt Carol said, her smile warm as she passed the bouquet to Serena, grateful for her assistance.

Serena marched straight to Charlie's room, her knock echoing through the door before it swung open.

Before Charlie could even utter a word of greeting, Serena cut in abruptly.

"Charlie, which one do you prefer? The pen or the flower?" Serena's tone was assertive.

'A pen or a flower? What relevance could a flower possibly have for someone practicing to write with their left hand?' Charlie pondered.

"OF COURSE, I'LL TAKE THE PEN!" Charlie's response was quick and decisive.

Charlie internally celebrated her choice: ^__^

Serena on Charlie's choice: ^__^

"Really?" Serena's smile widened.

"Of course, why on earth would I need a flower when I'm busy practicing my left hand-writing?" Charlie reasoned logically.

"Good... Then I'll set this flower aside..." Serena moved to the cabinet, placing the flower out of Charlie's reach.

With a nod of satisfaction, Serena handed the pen to Charlie...

Charlie examined the pen, taking in its antique charm and intricate details. The fountain pen exuded a timeless beauty with its golden hue and delicate patterns. As she opened it, she noticed a finely carved flower adorning the tip.

"Serena, this pen is so beautiful... Was the flower carved on the pen a daisy, just like the flower you brought ?" Charlie inquired, her admiration evident in her voice.

Serena shook her head gently. "No, Charlie. The carving on the pen is not a daisy, it's an Aster. It may resemble a daisy, but it's a different flower altogether."

Charlie's surprise was evident. "Serena, how did you know that?" she asked, astonished by Serena's knowledge.

"Because I gave you that pen," Serena replied, her smile warm and genuine.

"Then the flower?" Charlie followed up, her curiosity piqued.

"It was given by that guy... Cato Alderbrandt..." Serena's tone held a hint of bitterness.

"Cato gave me the flower? Wasn't he supposed to give you flowers?" Charlie questioned, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Huh? Why would he give me flowers... We don't even know each other..." Serena's response was laced with confusion.

"Hmm..." Charlie replied.

"And the pen? Why did you give me a pen?" Charlie inquired further, wanting to understand the significance of Serena's gift.

"You gave me a pen too... and this pen is important to me. It belonged to my grandfather, then to my father, and finally, my father passed it on to me..." Serena explained, her voice filled with a sense of history and sentiment.

Charlie's heart fluttered, and her cheeks flushed with realization. 'She gave me something important to her...' Charlie's thoughts raced, a smile forming on her lips.

"T-then Serena, can you help me put ink to the pen? I want to use it now..." Charlie said, smiling brightly, her eyes barely visible with excitement.

"Okay..." Serena took the pen and carefully filled it with ink.

"Here you go..."

"Thank you!"

Charlie eagerly tried writing again, but her frustration quickly surfaced.

"I HATE THIS!!!! LOOK AT THIS!! A CHILD'S HANDWRITING IS BETTER THAN MINE!" Charlie exclaimed in frustration.

Serena chuckled softly.

"It's okay... it's not that bad, especially considering it's your first time... Come, let me help you," Serena said reassuringly, positioning herself behind Charlie and gently guiding her left hand to form the letters.

"It's better to start with a simple word..." Serena suggested.

"Let's try this word 'CeeCee'," Serena continued, guiding Charlie to write the word.

"CeeCee?" Charlie questioned.

"CeeCee was the nickname I used when I was little... It was difficult for me to practice left-handed handwriting too. My teacher suggested I start with a simple word... so I chose CeeCee," Serena explained.

'In this way, the first word you'll learn to write is my name and not someone else's...' Serena thought, feeling a warmth in her heart.

"See? It's not that bad. With more practice, you can write just as well with your left hand as with your right," Serena encouraged, gently patting Charlie's hair.

The gesture caused Charlie's heart to race and her face to blush once again.

Back at Hastings Academy, Charlie's cast had been removed, but bandages still adorned her right arm, indicating it was still on the mend.

"How's your hand now?" Leora inquired.

"Still annoying, but it's getting better..." Charlie replied with a hint of relief in her voice.

"How long until you can use your right hand properly?" Alice chimed in.

"The doctor said it could take a while to regain full function, but I can move it now," Charlie explained, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

"Skipping class feels so liberating!" Leora exclaimed.