𝘾𝙀𝘾𝙄𝙇𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙓 𝘿𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙒𝙊𝙊𝘿
I have no idea how I ended up here.
One moment I was sitting in my room, convincing myself I was fine with everything.
Next moment—I'm sitting in the middle of the Dashwood dining room like some kind of guest they're afraid will disappear if they blink too hard.
All of them are looking at me.
Every single one.
I can feel it.
And the worst part?
It's not hate.
It's not fear.
It's something worse—confusion mixed with relief.
Like they don't know whether to approach me or apologize for existing.
I already decided I hated this situation before I even sat down.
Now I just feel... stuck.
Mabel is sitting right in front of me.
Same face.
Same features.
It's honestly disturbing how easy it is to forget which one of us is which until I look at the eyes.
And even then, it's still weird.
She's the first one to break the silence.
"So... Cecile, right?" Nolan asks.
"Yes," I answer politely.
Too politely.
It feels wrong in my mouth.
"You're in the mafia?" Elijah asks next, like he's trying to make sense of me out loud.
There's no point lying.
"The leader of Night Fox," I say simply.
The reaction is immediate.
Eyes widen around the table.
Even the fork pauses mid-air somewhere.
Except Mabel.
She just looks impressed.
"Really?!" she says like I just told her I run a bakery instead of an underground organization.
I blink once.
"...Yeah."
"Since when did you start training?" Carmen asks, more serious now.
"When I was ten," I reply. "The day Odessa took me in."
That sentence shifts the atmosphere again.
I can feel it.
Like everyone is trying to piece together a story they don't fully understand yet.
"I thought Odessa was the leader?" Blake asks softly.
"She was," I answer. "Until three years ago. She retired and handed it to me."
There's a pause.
Then I add, because I can already feel the questions coming:
"She wanted a normal life."
That seems to settle something for them.
Not everything.
But something.
"Alright," Blake says finally, forcing a light tone into her voice. "Dinner first. We can talk later."
And just like that, the tension loosens slightly.
Not gone.
Just... postponed.
The dinner itself is strange.
Not bad.
Just unfamiliar.
They talk to me like I'm already part of them, even though I can tell none of them know how to place me yet.
I answer questions.
I keep my tone steady.
I pretend I'm not aware of how often Mabel glances at me like she's still trying to convince herself I'm real.
I don't feel like family.
I don't feel like anything, really.
Just... present.
After dinner, I end up in a room upstairs.
Apparently "my room."
Still doesn't feel like mine.
I change into silk pyjamas, let my hair fall loose, and sit on the edge of the bed for a while.
Then I hear a knock.
Small.
Careful.
"It's me! Mabel!"
I pause for half a second before walking to the door and opening it.
She walks in immediately like she's been here before.
Which she hasn't.
But she acts like she belongs anyway.
"I came at the perfect time," she says, looking at my wet hair.
I raise an eyebrow. "Perfect for what?"
She doesn't answer.
Instead, she pulls the chair from the dressing table and turns it toward me.
"Sit," she says simply.
I stare at her for a second.
"...That wasn't a suggestion, was it?"
"Nope."
I sigh once and sit down.
She picks up a towel without hesitation and starts drying my hair.
I freeze slightly.
Not because it hurts.
Because nobody does this.
Not like this.
Not without asking.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Drying your hair," she says like it's obvious.
"I can do it myself."
"But you don't."
That stops me for a second.
I don't respond.
She continues gently, fingers careful in my hair.
"Do you always shower before bed?" she asks.
"Yes," I say quietly. "Otherwise I can't sleep properly."
"Same," she says casually.
There's a pause.
Then she adds, almost too naturally:
"I'll come every night then."
I blink.
"...Why?"
She shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world.
"Because I want to."
I don't answer immediately.
My brain doesn't really have a response for that.
Instead, I just sit there while she keeps drying my hair like it's something normal.
Like this—this entire situation—is normal.
And for the first time today—
I don't immediately hate the idea of staying still.
YOU ARE READING
Her Lonely Grey Eyes
Short Story🔞⚠️ Cecile was found in the orphanage gate with her birth certificate making her easily find her parents but Cecile had misunderstanding that made her hate her biological family. What will happen to her when she finds her biological family? Will sh...
