Chapter 3: Unspoken Wars

Chapter 3: Unspoken Wars

"Uhmm… yes- I mean, no. I was just looking for shelter," I stammered. "I know I shouldn't have come in, I'm really sorry. But… it was freezing outside."

To my surprise, she didn't scold me or chase me out.

"It's alright, dear," she said softly, her eyes kind. "I can tell you're a good girl. Go on, down that way. You'll find a place to bathe. I've laid out some comfortable clothes you can wear."

Her voice was gentle, her tone warm. Still, a flicker of doubt crept into my mind. Was she truly being kind? Or just pretending? But one look at her, the kindness in her wrinkles, the soft curl of her smile, and I couldn't find it in me to resist.

"Ma'am… you're really not upset that I came into your home?" I asked, needing to be sure.

She smiled again, that same unwavering warmth in her gaze.

"Like I said, you look like a good girl. Now go before you freeze to death. There's hot water in the washroom. After that, come sit for dinner."

She turned with a light chuckle, and I couldn't help but smile back.

I made my way to the washroom, a small stone-walled bathing room tucked just behind her living space. It was warm and clean, filled with the earthy scent of dried herbs. A wooden bucket steamed with hot water, as though she'd been expecting me.

I stood there for a moment, heart swelling with gratitude I didn't yet know how to express.

Stripping off my torn and muddy clothes, I stepped into the warmth. The water soothed every ache and chill from my bones. I closed my eyes, letting it run over me like a second skin.

But then, like knives piercing the quiet, memories came.

My mother's lifeless eyes.

The fire.

My father's bloodied hand reaching for mine.

Laura's scream.

I sank my face beneath the water, trying to drown it all.

When I surfaced, I found rows of handmade herbal soaps arranged on a ledge. They smelled of lavender, wild roses, and something deeper, sage, maybe. She definitely worked with herbs.

Once I was clean, I dried off and found the cupboard she'd mentioned. Inside were carefully folded gowns in soft fabrics and floral patterns. I chose a white one with tiny blue blossoms. It was beautiful. She had wonderful taste.

Dressed and finally warm, I made my way back to the dining room.

She was already seated, a gentle smile playing on her lips, her hands folded calmly on the table.

Something about the sight made my chest tighten. I'd always been wary of old people, especially the overly friendly ones. But with her…

With her, it felt like I was home again.

Like I was sitting across from my grandmother.

I made my way to the dining table and sat down. The sweet, buttery aroma of the pancakes made my stomach groan in anticipation.

"Go ahead and eat, dear. It's all yours," the old woman said kindly, pushing the plate closer to me.

"Thank you, ma'am. For everything. You've been so kind to me, and I truly appreciate it," I said, my voice sincere.

She smiled, her eyes softening. "It's alright, dear. You remind me so much of my granddaughter."

I took a bite of the pancakes, and warmth spread through me. They were soft, perfectly browned, and tasted like comfort, like something I hadn't felt in a long while. A part of me wanted to ask about her granddaughter, but I didn't want to pry. Still, the curiosity tugged at me.

"Where… where is your granddaughter now?" I asked gently.

Her smile faltered slightly, replaced by a trace of sadness. "Her parents took her away from me. We had a small misunderstanding." Her voice was quiet now, tinged with old pain.

My heart ached for her. Whatever that misunderstanding was, it didn't seem fair. No child should be separated from a grandmother like this.

"Oh no… I'm so sorry," I said softly. I decided not to ask any more questions. She deserved peace, not painful memories.

"Does it taste good?" she asked after a moment, her voice lighter.

"Yes," I said with a grateful smile. "These are the best pancakes I've had in a long time. Really."

She looked pleased, and we sat in brief silence, the warmth of the room wrapping around us like a thick blanket. Then she asked the question I had been dreading.

"Dear… where is your family?"

I froze for a second, my hand tightening around the tea cup. I placed it gently back on the table and cleared my throat.

"Uhmm… they died. Of an illness," I said, keeping my eyes on the cup. "I was the only one who survived. I started begging on the streets to stay alive."

It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. It was the only version I was willing to share for now. I didn't know if she believed me. Even though I felt oddly safe here, I still couldn't afford to take chances.

"Oh, I see. I'm so sorry, dear," she said, gently patting my shoulder with a comforting smile. "You can take this place as your new home, okay?"

I nodded slowly, a small smile curving my lips.

"By the way dear, what is your name?"

"Kyra" I responded.

"oh that's a nice name dear" she smiled at me.

I smiled back.

Maybe… just maybe, this was the beginning of something good.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the first step in the path to my revenge.