Saturday morning arrived with a hush in the air. The house felt oddly still, as if it, too, was waiting.
I stood by the window, the light catching my hair—soft brown waves brushing my shoulders, shining gold in the sun. My skin, warm-toned and smooth, glowed faintly in the quiet morning light. My eyes—deep brown, my father once said they held stories I hadn't told yet—searched the street without really seeing it.
Emily had changed outfits twice, unsure what to wear to meet "the people who own the house." Josh hadn't let go of my side all morning.
The hours crawled. Mr. Philip had left early, saying he'd be back shortly. By noon, the house was spotless. The help had set out light refreshments in the sitting room. Soft instrumental music hummed through the halls like a whisper.
I paced once or twice before retreating upstairs. In the mirror, I checked my hair, smoothing down flyaways, dabbing on a little lip balm. My stomach felt tight, twisted in quiet knots I tried not to show.
Then—
The distant sound of tires on gravel.
Emily peeked out from behind the curtain. "They're here!"
Josh grabbed my hand.
I held it tight.
A sleek black car rolled to a stop in the driveway. Mr. Philip stepped out first, then a tall woman with graceful movements and warm, intelligent eyes. She looked exactly as I'd imagined—poised, elegant, kind.
Beside her came a girl—Elsa. Fifteen, fair-skinned, with a sharp, thoughtful gaze. She stood tall with practiced posture and an unreadable expression.
And then him.
Shawn.
Nineteen. Tall, lean, handsome in the effortless way that made you notice even if you didn't want to. He moved with casual confidence—broad-shouldered, hands in his pockets, like he was used to being watched but never cared much for it.
My heart gave a small, involuntary flutter.
I quickly looked away.
The front door opened.
"Anne," Mr. Philip called warmly. "Come say hello."
I stepped forward, Josh and Emily close at my sides.
Shawn's gaze found me—and lingered.
There was a pause. Short, but heavy. Like the moment before a note is played.
"Anne, this is my wife, Patricia," Mr. Philip said, his hand resting gently on my back. "And these are my children—Shawn and Elsa."
I gave a small, polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."
Patricia stepped forward and pulled me into a hug—soft, unexpected, warm. "I've heard so much about you. Thank you for taking care of your siblings so well."
I blinked, caught off guard by her kindness.
Elsa gave a small nod, her eyes flicking to her phone. She didn't speak.
Shawn was still watching me—not with judgment, not with rudeness. Just a quiet, thoughtful curiosity. Like I was a question he hadn't decided how to ask yet.
I turned slightly, pretending not to notice. "This is Emily," I said, nudging my sister forward.
Emily gave a small wave. "Hi."
Josh peeked from behind me, still holding onto the fabric of my dress like it was a lifeline.
"They're adorable," Patricia said with a smile. "Come, let's all sit down. I'm sure you've been waiting long."
Everyone stepped into the living room. Shawn lingered behind a moment longer.
His eyes flicked to me once more before he followed.
And just like that, the house that had once felt like a sanctuary shifted—its air heavier, its rooms fuller, its silence no longer so silent.