Chapter 3: The Room That Forgot Her Name

I waited till the house got quieter.

Dinner is still going downstairs. Music. Voices. Glasses. Chairs. Stayed in the guest room till most of it faded. Then I left.

The hallway felt longer. Same carpet. Soft. Worn down the middle. Soft lights on the walls. Steps almost silent. Knew where I was headed.

The old greenhouse.

Back of the east wing. Glass walls. Stone floor. Mrs. Elizabeth and I used to spend hours there. She taught me the plant names. Ones for fever. Ones that calmed a restless wolf. Shelves are always neat. Jars with handwritten labels. A small table by the window. She sat there when her health was bad. Some days she could barely stand. I’d carry the trays. Sit with her while she sorted leaves. She hummed. Soft. Off-key. Sound of scissors cutting stems. Cool cloth on my forehead when I was sick. Said the air in here was better than medicine. That room was the one place that felt like it belonged to both of us.

Used to shift here. Back when the wolf still answered. Moonlight through the glass. Cool stone under paws. Mrs. Elizabeth never minded. I kept working. Sometimes I talked to the wolf like it was another person in the room. That was before. Before the silence. Before the traits went quiet one by one.

Pushed the door open.

Smell hit first.

Not earth. Not green. Not mint or lavender. Varnish. New paint. Sweet fake flowers. Under it, new wood polish.

Stepped inside.

Glass walls are the same. Light same. Cool air on my face. Everything else is gone.

Shelves that held the jars now had sheet music and little statues. Stone floor covered with a thick rug. Soft under shoes. Piano where the potting table used to sit. Dark wood. Lid closed. Canvases against the wall. Some blank. Some with soft colors. Brushes in clean jars. Music stand. Soft chairs with cushions. Nothing left of what used to be here.

Every trace is gone.

I stood there looking. The silence inside didn’t move. Wolf stayed quiet. No pull under the skin. No restless feeling like before when moonlight hit the glass. Just empty. Waited for something to reach her. Nothing did. I felt heavier in this room. Like the empty space got wider.

This place used to mean something. Not just plants. It was where Mrs. Elizabeth was still my mother in the ways that counted. Where she had time for me. Where the rest of the house couldn’t reach us. Now the shelves were cleared. Piano in the middle. Rug over the stone. She let it happen. Didn’t stop the change. That version of her who hummed and cut stems felt far away. The one who checked Maria first and asked me to stay upstairs still said kind words. But the shared part of this room was gone.

Didn’t hear Anderson till he spoke.

“Sandy?”

Turned. He stood in the doorway. Must have left dinner early. Or someone told him I was walking. Shoes soft on the rug as he came in.

Look past me. My face changed.

“This was…” Stopped. Stepped further. I looked at the piano. The canvases. The clean shelves. “I didn’t realize they changed it this much.”

Maria’s voice behind him.

“Anderson? You left so suddenly—”

Stopped when she saw me. Saw his face.

“Oh.” Soft. “Sandy. I didn’t know you would come here.”

Stepped in. Hands folded. Same careful smile. The dress made a light sound. Same perfume as before.

“I can change it back,” she said quickly. “If you want the old room. The plants. Everything. I only used it because no one else was. I can move my things tomorrow. Really. Not a problem.”

Anderson looked at her. Then at me. Voice quieter.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Maria said. Wet eyes on me. “I never meant to take something that mattered to you. I’ll give it all back. Just say.”

I watched her.

The offer came too fast. Too clean. She lived here long enough to know what this room used to be. I walked past it every day. Choosing it for her piano and paintings wasn't a chance. Offering it back the second I saw it made her look good. It made me look difficult if I said no. Anderson already turned to her. Ready to comfort.

Hand on her shoulder. Same way he used to with me. Fingers rested there like it was natural.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “We’ll figure it out.”

I looked at the piano. Clean shelves. Rug covering the old stone. The air still smelled wrong. Too clean. Too new.

Something in my chest stayed flat. No sharp hurt. Just the same quiet. The wolf didn’t care enough to wake. No traits. No push. The place that used to settle her now sat empty, and she stayed buried.

“I don’t want it,” I said.

Both looked at me.

“I didn’t come back to my room. Or shelves. Or anything else that used to be mine. I only stayed because Mrs. Elizabeth is still unwell. When she’s stable, I’ll leave.”

Anderson’s hand dropped.

“Sandy—”

“I’m not asking for anything. Not the room. Not an apology. Nothing. Just a place to sleep until she’s better. That’s all.”

Maria opened her mouth. I closed it. Looked at Anderson like he should fix it.

He stared at me. Shock still there. Something else is settling under it. Careful.

“You don’t mean that. You’re still adjusting. Once things calm down—”

“I mean it.”

Voice even. No heat.

“I don’t plan to stay in this family forever.”

Words sat there in the quiet.

Anderson didn’t answer right away. Maria looked down at the rug. Downstairs, a glass clinked. Someone laughed. The piano lid caught the light from the glass. Cool air on the back of my neck.

Turned and walked past them. Out of the room that forgot my name. Back toward the guest suite. The carpet is the same under my feet. The hallway smelled like polish and distant food.

Behind me, Anderson said something low to Maria. Didn’t catch it.

I didn't need to.

The house kept going. Dinner continued. Wolf stayed quiet. No traits stirring. No answer from the empty space.

Keep walking.