Chapter 2: A Strange Home
652words
Memories came flooding back like a tide: the storm, Victor's betrayal, the stranger's help. I sat up alertly, looking around for potential threats or escape routes.
The door was gently knocked.
"Come in," I said tensely.
The door opened, and a brown-haired man entered carrying a tray.
"Good morning, I'm Noah Moon, a doctor. Looks like you've rested well." He smiled, placing the tray on the bedside table. "I checked your ankle. It's just a minor sprain, should heal in a few days."
I stared at the steaming breakfast without touching it. "Who changed my clothes?"
"Our housekeeper Martha, don't worry." Noah sat in a chair by the bed. "My father found you in the forest. I was the only one in this house who immediately agreed to take you in, so don't worry, you're safe here."
"Take me in?" I frowned. "I don't need to be taken in. Once my foot heals, I'll leave."
Noah seemed to have anticipated this response and simply nodded patiently. "Of course, that's your decision. But before that, you should meet the others. They're all curious about our new guest."
Just then, the door was pushed open again, and a blond boy poked his head in, amber eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey! New girl! I'm Aiden, the coolest one in the house!" He grinned, completely ignoring Noah's reproachful look.
I watched this boy who was a few years younger than me warily, unsure how to respond to his enthusiasm.
"Aiden, what did I say about respecting others' privacy?" A serious voice came from outside the door, followed by a tall man with black hair and golden eyes as sharp as an eagle's.
"I'm Luke Moon, the eldest son of this family," he said, his gaze scrutinizing me. "Father told us you'll be staying for a while. If you need anything, tell the housekeeper."
"I won't stay long," I replied coldly.
Luke nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, then turned to leave. Aiden made a face at me before following his brother out.
Noah sighed. "Don't take Luke's words to heart. He's like that with everyone. When you meet Jay, my third brother, you'll find we're not all so unapproachable."
I looked down at the breakfast, suddenly realizing I hadn't eaten for a day. I carefully picked up a piece of bread and took a bite.
"Thank you," I said softly, uncertain whether I was thanking him for the food or for the rescue.
Noah smiled kindly. "You're welcome. After you've eaten, if you're feeling better, I can show you around the house."
After Noah left, I sat alone on the bed, looking around this strange yet comfortable room. For eighteen years, I had moved from one foster home to another, never having a real home. Everything here was too good, too good to believe.
I walked to the window and opened it. Fresh air rushed in, and in the distance were dense forests and rolling hills. In the sunlight, everything looked so peaceful, a stark contrast to last night's storm.
I knew that peace was always temporary. I wouldn't stay, wouldn't trust again, wouldn't let myself be hurt again.
But as I turned to leave the window, an easel caught my attention. It was placed in the corner of the room, covered with a white cloth. Out of curiosity, I lifted the cloth to find a set of brand new painting tools and several blank canvases.
A small card lay there: "Sometimes, painting can express what words cannot. —Jay"
My fingers gently brushed over the paintbrushes, a warmth I was reluctant to acknowledge spreading through my heart.
