After school, Rowan came to pick Sally up while Rhea dragged Selene off to the game, loudly promising to fill Sally in on every dramatic detail the next day.
The ride home was quiet.
She rested her head against the car window, an earpiece tucked into one ear as her favourite music played softly. Her bright eyes wandered over the passing streets, taking in everything without really focusing on anything at all.
From time to time, she glanced toward Rowan in the driver's seat.
As expected, he ignored her completely.
Not that she minded, she wasn't in the mood to spar with him today.
As one of Dominic's men, Rowan was well accustomed to her sarcasm. Occasionally he entertained her remarks with dry responses, but he never abandoned the polite restraint expected when addressing the young miss.
When the car rolled into the driveway, Sally stepped out unhurriedly and walked inside at a leisurely pace.
Just past the entrance, she encountered Ace.
It seemed he had only come home briefly to retrieve something, for he was already heading back out.
As always, he carried himself with that measured disposition; controlled, precise, almost unsettling in its composure.
Dressed in dark tones that sharpened the severity of his features, he looked like a man carved from restraint itself.
There was something distinctly nocturnal about him.
And like now, his dark eyes settled on her.
Though his frame stood tall and naturally imposing, Sally lifted her chin in return, her posture cool, faintly defiant, as though she were the one looking down on him.
Ace and Rowan were Dominic's closest associates, one governing the world of business, the other the affairs of the household. Both watched over her, though in markedly different ways.
Like now.
Ace studied her with a gaze so penetrating it felt as though he were trying to see straight through her, yet he remained silent, forever keeping to himself. Rowan, on the other hand, rarely spared her a second glance, yet spoke with an ease not too distant or close.
Cut from the same weird cloth, she thought.
Without a word, Ace stepped past her and continued toward the door, his movements smooth and deliberate. Moments later, it closed behind him with a soft, final click.
Sally turned and headed upstairs.
The house was empty.
Nanny had likely gone to attend to personal matters at her own home, and Elena was out, as usual. The quiet stretched gently through the halls, wrapping the house in a stillness that felt both peaceful... and faintly lonely.
"Let's just be a good girl today," she murmured to herself as she climbed the stairs.
The moment she entered her room, Sally collapsed onto her bed, stretching her limbs until the tension in her muscles eased.
A quiet sigh escaped her as she stared at the ceiling.
"Boring as usual… tch."
After a quick shower, she changed into comfortable clothes, a cream T-shirt and soft shorts that brushed lightly against her thighs. Refreshed but faintly hungry, she wandered downstairs in search of something to eat.
Nothing called to her.
Naturally.
She returned to her room and pulled open her sacred drawer, already stocked with an indulgent assortment of cookies and sweets. Bending slightly, she carefully selected two packets like a strategist choosing supplies before a long campaign.
"Now this," she declared softly, grabbing a cookie, "is reliable."
Moving to her reading table, she plugged her earpiece back in, picked up a pen, as she flipped open her sketch book.
Several drawings stared back at her, some unfinished, others shaded with careful patience. Yet every single one shared the same subject.
A woman.
Faceless in some sketches, detailed in others.
Sally lingered on the images for a moment before turning to a blank page and beginning again, her pencil gliding instinctively as though guided by memory rather than sight
That evening, light filtered through her window, casting a golden glow across the desk. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, and for a while, the world felt slow.
She leaned back in her chair, neck twisted at an awkward angle as she stared out the window, lost in nothing in particular.
Eventually, she rose and left the room, descending the stairs at an unhurried pace, a soft hum slipping from her lips.
The gentle clatter of utensils announced that the nanny had returned and was now in the kitchen preparing dinner.
"Young miss, how was school today?" the nanny asked, chopping spring onions with practiced ease.
Sally hopped onto one of the high counter stools and leaned forward like a curious cat, her elbow resting lazily against the smooth surface.
"Quite fun… though I didn't get to enjoy the after-school part. How's Dan?" she asked, casually stealing a carrot and biting into it with a crisp snap.
The older woman smiled instantly, a fond smile that always appeared at the mention of her grandson.
"He's fine, as usual. Growing too fast… and eating twice as much as he should."
"Good. Someone in this world is thriving."
Crunch.
Sally watched her unwrap another set of ingredients.
"Why don't you step outside a bit? You're always cooped up inside this house," the nanny said.
"What use is fresh air when I won't get to enjoy it?" She replied. "I'd probably have three people trailing behind me before I even reach the gate."
She said shaking her head and reached for another vegetable.
The nanny paused at the sink and glanced at her.
"You speak of them as though they are prison guards."
Sally lifted one shoulder.
"Sometimes it feels that way… but well, what can I do?"
There was no complaint in her voice, only a quiet resignation that sounded far too practiced for someone her age.
"You know the master is only looking out for you," the nanny coaxed gently.
"Yeah, of course. I'm not refuting it," Sally said with a small laugh.
The nanny immediately recognized the sarcasm and shook her head with a smile, which only made Sally laugh harder.
Suddenly, Sally pulled the earpiece from her ear, her attention shifting completely.
"Tell me one of those stories from your hometown," she said, eyes bright with interest.
"Honestly, they're far better than anything on television."
A soft chuckle escaped the older woman.
"Alright. Let me wash these first."
As she gathered the vegetables and moved toward the sink, Sally hopped off the stool and joined her without hesitation.
"Two hands make it faster," she announced.
The nanny raised a brow. "Are you helping… or planning to eat your way through the ingredients?"
Sally had already picked up a cucumber.
"I'm removing the excess ones."
"Young miss!"
Before Sally could defend her "
'method,' the soft click of the front door echoed through the house.
Elena had returned.
Drawn by the sound of voices drifting from the kitchen, she made her way toward it. She paused just before entering, her sharp, elegant features softening at the sight before her.
Sally standing beside the sink, very obviously "helping" by eating more than she washed.
The nanny noticed her first.
"Welcome back, Madam."
At the sound of that greeting, Sally turned at once.
"Mom Elena!" she cried, abandoning her cucumber mid-bite and hurrying over to wrap her in a quick hug.
Elena laughed softly, pinching her nose with gentle affection.
"Can you not be mischievous for even a second?"
"Nanny isn't complaining," Sally replied, sticking out her tongue before glancing back for support.
"Of course I'm not," the nanny said warmly. "Girls should be allowed a little mischief while they still can."
Elena shook her head slowly, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
"I truly don't know which of us is spoiling her more."
"Clearly both," Sally chimed in without hesitation.
Elena set her handbag aside, her posture relaxing now that she was home.
"But you're late today," Sally noted, returning to her stool. "Did you stop by somewhere?"
"I had to meet someone after the gathering," Elena replied.
Sally scrunched her face at once.
"Oh! those verbal battlefield ," she groaned. "Where everyone smiles like saints but every word that leaves their mouth more is ruthless than the last"
The nanny let out a quiet chuckle.
Elena only smiled stepping closer, to stroke Sally's hair, a gesture so natural it seemed unconscious.
"It is necessary to fit in." her voice was calm.
"I know it seems like everyone is hypocritical," Elena continued "Well… many of them are. But attending such gatherings reminds certain people exactly where they stand."
Sally sighed dramatically, resting her cheek against her palm.
"The Parkers are organizing a banquet soon," Elena added. "You should attend."
She tilted her head.
"I'll skip. You know how bored I get at those events. Besides, I don't have skin thick enough to endure everyone's packaged flattery."
Elena pinched her cheek.
"Hmm... I think you do."
"Mom!" Sally protested, swatting her hand away as both Elena and the nanny laughed.
...
The next day.
Morning seeped through a tear in the curtain and spilled into Selene's small room, if it could even be called a room.
The space was cramped, old boxes piled into one corner as though forgotten by time. A narrow wardrobe leaned tiredly against the wall, it's hinge slightly crooked, while a wooden table and chair sat before the window, her books arranged in neat, careful stacks, the only corner of the room that looked intentional.
Selene sat up on the worn, thin mattress and rested her head against the wall as her mother's sharp voice sliced through the house.
Another shout.
Another complaint.
Another day.
She closed her eyes briefly, counting to three before opening them again.
Her gaze drifted to the small alarm clock on the table.
7:35 a.m.
Slowly, she climbed out of bed and folded her blanket with quiet precision.
She reached for her uniform, freshly ironed the night before, every crease aligned. Once satisfied, she gathered her things and stepped out of the room.
The familiar scent of stale alcohol lingered in the air.
Her father lay sprawled across the old brown cushion as he did most mornings, one arm thrown over his face. It was impossible to tell whether he slept or simply chose not to exist.
Simeon stumbled out of his room at the same moment, rubbing his eyes. His foot knocked against something on the floor sending it clattering, but he paid it no attention.
"Must you scatter everything? Are you blind?" their mother's voice rang out again from the narrow space that passed for a kitchen.
Steam curled into the room.
"Our scholar is awake," Simeon announced when he spotted Selene. A cheeky grin spread across his face before he started toward the bathroom.
"First to reach, first to use!" he declared, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the wall.
"Why don't you just bring the whole house down while you're at it?" their mother snapped.
She stormed past Selene, wiping her damp hands on her wrapper, muttering curses under her breath. Then she stopped abruptly and looked at the untouched floor.
"Are you just standing there? Sweep the floor before you go. And don't pretend you didn't see the dirt."
"I'll do it now," Selene replied quietly.
Arguing only stretched the morning thinner than it already was.
She picked up the broom and began sweeping, her movements steady and efficient. Dust gathered into small obedient lines beneath her strokes.
As she worked, her mother's complaints continued, about rising food prices, about neighbors, about life, about everything that had never gone the way she wanted.
Selene listened the way one listened to distant traffic, present, but not absorbing.
When she finished, she returned the broom and slipped back into her room
Once dressed, she paused before the small mirror to adjust her hair, ensuring not a strand was out of place. Only then did she step out again.
Clang!
"Won't you eat something before you go?" her mother shouted, hurriedly arranging the table.
"How can she be hungry when she's already filled with books?" Simeon said from the table, grabbing a piece of bread.
Their mother smacked on the back of his head.
"All you know is how to eat. If you can't go to school, then go outside and work! Do you want to live like your father?" She shot a pointed glance toward the cushion.
Her father did not move.
Did not even react, as though long accustomed to it.
"I'm not hungry." Selene said as she picked up her water bottle.
"Not hungry?" her mother scoffed. "Or are you too good for this food now?"
Selene didn't answer.
Selene moved toward the door.
For a brief second, she paused.
Her eyes traveled across the house.
Then, expressionless, she stepped outside.
"Hey! Planning to starve again? Or are you being picky?" her mother's voice called after her.
Selene stepped outside without replying and shut the door gently behind her.
Muffled through the wood came Simeon's voice.
"More food for me."
The morning air wrapped around her like cool water.
Selene walked steadily toward school. When she reached the end of the street, she pulled out her purse and checked the money inside.
Then raised her hand and called for a taxi.
She slipped into the back seat.
As the taxi pulled away, Selene watched her street shrink in the distance until it disappeared completely.
One day, she would live in a house where mornings were quiet.
And when that day came,
She would not look back.
Not even once.