It had been a while since I’d visited Mrs. Idris, and as I walked through the quiet halls of the nursing home, a heavy sense of guilt settled in the pit of my stomach. The scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint smell of lavender drifted through the air, and I found myself clenching and unclenching my fists to keep my nerves at bay.Mrs. Idris had been under my guardianship ever since her health began to decline. I’d ensured she was taken care of, well-fed, comfortable, and treated with the respect she deserved. But I hadn’t been here as much as I should have lately. With everything happening—my grandmother’s death, the business responsibilities—I had let too much time slip by. I entered her room quietly. The pale yellow curtains let in a soft, golden light that bathed the room in warmth. Mrs. Idris lay on her bed, propped with pillows, her frail frame barely making an impression under the blankets. Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the door click shut.“Mrs. Idris,” I called sof
I stood outside the door for an eternity, my hand shaking before the handle. The last time I visited my mother was brief, awkward, and honestly, unremarkable. It had been Anna who insisted on keeping my mother here, in this place, tho safe, comfortable, well taken care of. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Anna had taken care of so much. More than I deserved, to be honest.Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open gently. The room was beautiful, and tastefully decorated, with nice flowers and warm light spilling from the large window that had the view of the garden. A slight breeze moved the curtains, letting in the faint scent of jasmine. My mother lying in bed with her thin, frail body swallowed by the thick knit blanket draped over her body. She didn’t notice me at first, but when I cleared my throat, she turned, and the surprise in her eyes was… too much.Her gaze locked onto mine, wide with total disbelief, almost as if she were looking at a ghost. I felt a pang of guilt in my che
I sat quietly beside my mother, watching her frail hands resting on the blanket. There was something unsettling about seeing her so vulnerable. A woman who, once upon a time, was full of life, now appeared fragile and worn. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt rush over me. I should have been here more often. But, then again, when had I ever been good at staying?I was deep in thought when the door opened, and someone stepped inside. I turned my head and froze for a second, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. It was the nurse- that nurse- the one I had been flirting with outside the nurse’s station earlier today.Her name was Jennifer. I’d seen her outside my mother’s room and we’d exchanged flirtatious glances, harmless small talk, and a few compliments. But seeing her now, walking into my mother’s room, caught me off guard.“Well, well, Jennifer,” I said, my voice laced with amusement, “didn’t expect to see you here.”She smiled politely, though her eyes held a flicker of
“Welcome back, Miss Anna,” Lydia said, taking the bags from my hands before I could protest. She was always like that—quietly efficient, never allowing me to do too much myself.“Thanks, Lydia. It’s good to be home,” I replied, though my voice felt hollow. Home. This house used to feel like that, but now... now it just felt like an empty shell, haunted by my grandmother’s absence.“I picked up some groceries on the way,” I added as she took my things.“I’ll take care of them,” she said, her hands already full but still moving with that same quiet grace.I was about to head toward my chambers when I heard it—a sound that shouldn’t have been there. A rustling, followed by the faint thud of something heavy being moved. My brows furrowed. It was coming from my grandmother’s chambers.Her room. The room that was supposed to be mine now, but I couldn’t bring myself to move into it. It had been two months since she passed, and I still refused to rearrange the mansion or even touch her belong
“Anna! Anna!”The market vendors and shoppers, too engrossed in their own lives, are slow to react. Some stop and look, their faces showing concern, but none have seen a little girl wandering off. Margaret’s fear turns into desperation as she frantically asks anyone nearby, her words stumbling over each other in her rush.“She was just here! A little girl, about this tall, with dark hair—have you seen her?”But no one has. Anna is gone.Margaret’s security detail, usually discreet and in the background, springs into action. Within minutes, the market is swarming with suited men speaking into earpieces, their eyes scanning the area with military precision. The police are notified, and soon, the search extends beyond the market, into the labyrinthine streets of Los Angeles.But Los Angeles is too vast, too indifferent to the plight of a lost child. The city’s heartbeat, a mix of honking cars and distant sirens, seems to drown out the urgency of the search. The sun begins to dip below th
….. Leaving the train station. Mr. Idris drove her back to his farmhouse, a modest but welcoming home surrounded by sprawling fields. The drive was quiet, Anna staring out the window as the cityscape gave way to the open countryside. She didn’t say much, but Mr. Idris could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the kind that came not just from physical tiredness but from emotional turmoil.When they arrived at the farmhouse, Mrs. Idris was waiting for him at the door. She was a woman of quiet strength, with a sharp mind and a caring heart. Her brow furrowed in concern when she saw Anna, her husband leading the little girl gently up the steps.“Who is this, Idris?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and worry.“This is Anna,” Mr. Idris explained. “I found her alone at the train station. She’s lost and doesn’t know how to get back home. I thought we could take her in until we find her family.”Mrs. Idris looked at the little girl, taking in her disheveled appearance and the sadness in her
Anna's life in the Idris household was a mix of warmth and challenges. Though Mr. Idris and his wife had taken her out of the goodness of their hearts, Anna always felt a deep sense of displacement. She had fleeting memories of a different life, one filled with luxury and love, but those memories were like fragments of a dream she couldn’t fully piece together.Despite these feelings, she gradually adapted to rural life, learning to help with chores and finding solace in the small, comforting routines of farm life. Mr. Idris, understanding the importance of education, decided to send her to school. It was there that Anna discovered her passion for dance. What started as an extracurricular activity quickly blossomed into a full-fledged talent. Anna’s grace and expression on the dance floor were undeniable, and it wasn’t long before she was recognized as a prodigious dancer.As Anna pursued her passion, Samuel Idris was building his path. He had grown into a successful and ambitious man,
Anna Edgewood sat in the small, cozy sitting room of the Idris farmhouse, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was familiar, filled with the scent of fresh bread and the warmth of a fire crackling in the hearth, but today, it felt different. There was a tension in the air, a weight that pressed down on her as she waited for Mr. and Mrs. Idris to speak.She had lived with the Idris family for years, ever since she had wandered away from her wealthy grandmother in a busy market and found herself lost and alone in the vast city of Los Angeles.Mr. Idris cleared his throat, drawing her attention. His weathered face was kind but serious, his eyes filled with concern. Beside him, Mrs. Idris sat with her hands folded in her lap, her expression unreadable."Anna," Mr. Idris began, his voice gentle but firm, "you know how much we care for you. You've become like a daughter to us. But... there's something we need to discuss."Anna nodded her throat tight with anxiety. She had no idea what
“Welcome back, Miss Anna,” Lydia said, taking the bags from my hands before I could protest. She was always like that—quietly efficient, never allowing me to do too much myself.“Thanks, Lydia. It’s good to be home,” I replied, though my voice felt hollow. Home. This house used to feel like that, but now... now it just felt like an empty shell, haunted by my grandmother’s absence.“I picked up some groceries on the way,” I added as she took my things.“I’ll take care of them,” she said, her hands already full but still moving with that same quiet grace.I was about to head toward my chambers when I heard it—a sound that shouldn’t have been there. A rustling, followed by the faint thud of something heavy being moved. My brows furrowed. It was coming from my grandmother’s chambers.Her room. The room that was supposed to be mine now, but I couldn’t bring myself to move into it. It had been two months since she passed, and I still refused to rearrange the mansion or even touch her belong
I sat quietly beside my mother, watching her frail hands resting on the blanket. There was something unsettling about seeing her so vulnerable. A woman who, once upon a time, was full of life, now appeared fragile and worn. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt rush over me. I should have been here more often. But, then again, when had I ever been good at staying?I was deep in thought when the door opened, and someone stepped inside. I turned my head and froze for a second, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. It was the nurse- that nurse- the one I had been flirting with outside the nurse’s station earlier today.Her name was Jennifer. I’d seen her outside my mother’s room and we’d exchanged flirtatious glances, harmless small talk, and a few compliments. But seeing her now, walking into my mother’s room, caught me off guard.“Well, well, Jennifer,” I said, my voice laced with amusement, “didn’t expect to see you here.”She smiled politely, though her eyes held a flicker of
I stood outside the door for an eternity, my hand shaking before the handle. The last time I visited my mother was brief, awkward, and honestly, unremarkable. It had been Anna who insisted on keeping my mother here, in this place, tho safe, comfortable, well taken care of. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Anna had taken care of so much. More than I deserved, to be honest.Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open gently. The room was beautiful, and tastefully decorated, with nice flowers and warm light spilling from the large window that had the view of the garden. A slight breeze moved the curtains, letting in the faint scent of jasmine. My mother lying in bed with her thin, frail body swallowed by the thick knit blanket draped over her body. She didn’t notice me at first, but when I cleared my throat, she turned, and the surprise in her eyes was… too much.Her gaze locked onto mine, wide with total disbelief, almost as if she were looking at a ghost. I felt a pang of guilt in my che
It had been a while since I’d visited Mrs. Idris, and as I walked through the quiet halls of the nursing home, a heavy sense of guilt settled in the pit of my stomach. The scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint smell of lavender drifted through the air, and I found myself clenching and unclenching my fists to keep my nerves at bay.Mrs. Idris had been under my guardianship ever since her health began to decline. I’d ensured she was taken care of, well-fed, comfortable, and treated with the respect she deserved. But I hadn’t been here as much as I should have lately. With everything happening—my grandmother’s death, the business responsibilities—I had let too much time slip by. I entered her room quietly. The pale yellow curtains let in a soft, golden light that bathed the room in warmth. Mrs. Idris lay on her bed, propped with pillows, her frail frame barely making an impression under the blankets. Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the door click shut.“Mrs. Idris,” I called sof
It had been a week since that unsettling lunch with Henry, where I saw the woman staring at me through the window. The memory still played in my mind, a gnawing discomfort at the back of my thoughts. I hadn't mentioned it to Henry, trying to brush it off as a coincidence, but I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that her eyes were filled with something more than curiosity. Today, however, all of that would come to light.I was sitting in the library, going through some paperwork, when the housekeeper knocked on the door, her voice timid. “Miss Anna, there’s someone at the door asking for you. She says her name is Lara.”I froze, my pen hovering over the page. Lara. The woman from the restaurant. I cleared my throat, setting the papers aside. “Send her in.”As the housekeeper left, my heart raced, my thoughts swirling. What could she possibly want? And why now?Moments later, Lara entered the room. She looked different from that day—worn, perhaps, but with a determined expression. She
Sitting across from Henry at the small, cozy café, I couldn’t help but smile as the afternoon sun bathed the room in a golden glow. The atmosphere was warm and intimate, the kind of place that made you forget about the world outside. We had been talking about everything and nothing for the past hour, letting time slip by unnoticed as we enjoyed each other's company.Henry looked at me with that familiar warmth in his eyes, his fingers gently playing with the rim of his coffee cup. “You know, Anna, you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. The way he said it, like it was a fact he couldn’t help but notice, made my cheeks flush.I let out a small laugh, trying to brush off the compliment, but he wasn’t having it.“No, really,” he continued, leaning in slightly. “You have this light about you. The kind that draws people in. I’ve felt it since the moment I first saw you.”I glanced down at my plate, suddenly feeling shy. "Henry, stop, you’re making me blush.”B
I was awoken by the soft clinking of china against the tray beside me. At first, the sound felt distant, like it was part of a dream, but as my eyes fluttered open, I was greeted by the golden rays of the morning sun streaming in through the curtains. The warmth of the light made everything feel soft like the world was wrapped in a comforting glow. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the brightness, and then I saw him.Henry was standing by the bed, a small, proud smile playing on his lips as he arranged the tray on the bedside table. His eyes caught mine, and I couldn’t help but smile back. He had asked the maid to prepare breakfast for us, the thoughtful gesture warming me from the inside. The smell of fresh tea and warm croissants filled the room, making the moment feel even more surreal and peaceful.“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Henry whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. His lips lingered for a second longer as if he was savoring the simplicity of the mome
I sat at the edge of the bed, dressed in the black gown I hadn’t taken off in days. It had been two months since Mrs. Margaret Edgewood, the woman who had been like a mother to me, passed away. And I hadn’t left my room since the funeral. The outside world felt distant, like a memory that no longer belonged to me. My world had shrunk to the size of this room, this bed. I couldn’t shake the hollow emptiness that settled in my chest like a permanent weight. Grief had consumed me, and with each passing day, it grew harder to remember what it was like to feel anything else.The door creaked open, and I glanced up just in time to see Henry stepping inside. His face softened the moment he saw me, concern etched into every line of his expression. He walked slowly toward me, as though afraid that too much movement might cause me to break."Hey," he said softly, sitting down on the bed next to me. His presence was calming and familiar, and for a moment, I felt a small spark of warmth.“Hey,”
"Are you ready, Anna? To serve Samuel his divorce papers?" His voice was gentle as if he could sense my hesitation.I nodded slowly, unable to find the words. This was it. After years of suffering, I was finally taking back my life. The papers felt heavy in my hands, symbolic of every battle I had endured. Every tear, every sleepless night.The maid, standing by the door, glanced at Mr. Mike, awaiting his signal. "Go and call Mr. Samuel. He’s in the guest house," he instructed.I could hear the faint thump of music coming from the guest house, the sound of Samuel’s "good life." The man I had married had turned into a stranger, indulging in the company of others, in everything that had nothing to do with me. I had long since stopped wondering where I went wrong because I knew now—it was never about me.I glanced toward my grandmother, Mrs. Margaret Edgewood, lying weakly in her bed. She had been my rock through all of this, her frail hands still able to hold my spirit together even as