A Hand To Hold | Cglre |

Chapter 3: The Provisional Home

Evelyn's POV

The morning light, gentle and golden, filtered through the windows of the adoption ward, casting a serene glow over the room filled with cribs. Ian and I stood silently by Sophie's crib, observing her as she slept. She was the picture of tranquility, her peaceful expression a stark contrast to the turmoil she must have faced before.

The room was alive with the soft chatter of caregivers and the occasional coos and giggles of the littles. As the normalcy of the ward carried on, Sophie began to awaken. Her eyes, wide and filled with fear, fluttered open and darted around the room. It was clear she was lost, her surroundings unfamiliar and intimidating. The peacefulness she had found in her sleep was quickly shattered by a rising tide of panic.

Sophie's breathing became rapid and shallow, her small body tensing up in visible alarm. The sight of unfamiliar faces and the strange environment were too much for her; she began to whimper, her fear a tangible presence in the room.

In response to her distress, several caregivers approached, each attempting to soothe her. Yet, despite their gentle words and kind gestures, Sophie's fear only escalated. Her eyes darted anxiously from one stranger to another, her small frame shrinking away from their well-intentioned approaches. Her small body trembled, and her whimpers grew louder, each failed attempt leaving the caregivers with a sense of helplessness.

It was then that Ian stepped in. He knelt beside her crib, his presence a calm, reassuring force amid her fear. "Sophie, it's okay," he whispered gently, his voice a soothing contrast to the surrounding chaos. "You're safe here. Let's breathe together, alright?"

As he demonstrated slow, deep breaths, something remarkable happened. Sophie's frantic gaze locked onto Ian, and she began to mimic his breathing. Her rapid, shallow breaths gradually deepened, the tension in her tiny frame easing with each successive breath.

Once she had calmed down, and the trembling subsided, Ian gently introduced us. "I'm Ian, and this is Evelyn. We're here to make sure you're okay, Sophie. You're in a safe place now." His words were simple, yet they seemed to reach her in a way that others hadn't.

Sophie shifted her gaze between Ian and me, her eyes a complex tapestry of fear, confusion, and a faint glimmer of trust. Her response, though hesitant and broken, was heart-wrenching. "No... no bad girl... Father say... I bad. He... punish?" The fear of retribution from her father, a stark reminder of her trauma, was evident in her quivering voice.

The innocence and fear in her words sent a shiver down my spine. It was apparent that despite being in a new, safe environment, the deep-seated fear of punishment from her father haunted her. It painted a picture of the trauma she had endured.

Ian's expression softened further as he reassured her. "No, Sophie, you're not a bad girl, and nobody here is going to punish you. You're very brave. We're here to help you, not harm you."

Sophie's eyes stayed on Ian, seeking some form of reassurance. "Only I talk to black clothe," she murmured, perhaps finding some comfort in Ian's coincidental black attire. Gradually, a semblance of calm enveloped her. Ian's gentle approach and his appearance, seemingly of significance to her, offered her the solace she needed.