Whispers on the Wind

1

Lily, at the tender age of twelve, was like a spring flower blossoming, carrying an innocent and lost expression when she first stepped into that foreign house. Her life's colors, textures, and even scents completely transformed. Her parents had tragically departed from this world in a stove fire, leaving her alone in that small village, cradled by loneliness. Her only sanctuary was her aunt Nora, who worked as a maid in a mansion in Istanbul. Nora had persuaded the homeowners, not without difficulty, to take Lily in. The lady of the house, citing the presence of a young man in the house, had initially argued that a young girl's presence would disrupt the peace of the house but eventually agreed to provide a home for this orphaned girl.

Lily stepped into the grand foyer of the house, where a crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling and a marble staircase led to the upper floors; every corner felt as foreign, as if it had sprung from a tale. She had met her distant aunt Nora only a few times face to face. Lily knew that her aunt worked in this affluent house in Istanbul, but she had never seen that house, those walls, that ceiling, that life. The lady of the house, Mrs. Ashwood, rarely engaged with the servants, leaving all the household duties to Mrs. Potts, who acted much like the house steward. Mrs. Potts was the eye, the ear, and perhaps even the conscience of Mrs. Ashwood, overseeing every corner of the house. Lily's quest to find her place in this new world bgan in the corridors of this mysterious and foreign mansion.

There was also Eliza, in her early twenties and another employee of the house, known for her fiery red hair. Lily had admired Eliza's blazing hair but was too shy to express her admiration. It took Eliza until the second week to notice Lily's presence in the house. Why would she? To Eliza, what did it matter that a snotty girl had come to the house? Her eyes were always glued to the tabloid news, living her life through the small screen of her phone. She was constantly taking selfies, texting, roaming in her self-created world. Her relationship with Mrs. Potts was like stormy seas; Mrs. Potts would constantly say, "All hands on deck but her mind somewhere else." If Eliza's mother hadn't been sick, she would have been shown the door a long time ago, only the respect for her mother kept her from being dismissed. Moreover, despite being four years younger, her eyes seemed always fixed on Brian. Such a thing couldn't be true, could it, since Brian wasn't even of age yet? However, one should not overlook Eliza's sharp and profound gaze.

But Brian... Oh, Brian... The landlords' sixteen-year-old son, towering at 191 centimeters, a star player on the school basketball team, yet his heart was as hard and emotionless as a carved stone. They say a child is a mirror of the family; Brian's parents weren't known for their warmth and love either. Their affection for each other was also riddled with question marks. His father barely seemed to acknowledge his mother's existence; whispers of his affairs outside floated around. His mother, on the other hand, sought the love she couldn't get from her husband in her only son, and not receiving this love only fueled her inner storm, tying her even more tightly to her son. For her, the most perfect man in the world was her son; no one could compare to him. Nevertheless, Brian didn't consider himself worthy of anyone; at just sixteen, he had already inherited his father's pride, making him, unfortunately, quite attractive among his peers, and Brian was well aware of it.

As these events unfolded, when shy, sweet, ground-gazing twelve-year-old Lily stepped into the house, a subtle yet significant change occurred in Brian Ashwood's world. He had cast a glance at Lily, longer than usual for him, which counted as a record for Brian back then. But that look carried more discomfort than admiration. Lily's inability to lift her eyes from the ground, the moth-eaten spots on her blue cardigan, the baggy pants-like clothing she wore (which Brian had never seen before, hence couldn't name), and the strands of hair shedding from her braids reaching her waist... Brian was irritated by each of these details. He asked, "Doesn't this girl have anyone?" The answer was, "No." After feeling a brief moment of sorrow, he put on his headphones and started playing Call of Duty. For Brian, with just a teaspoon of emotional depth, this might have been insignificant. However, on that first day, Lily couldn't even bring herself to meet Brian's eyes. She had caught a glimpse of him from behind when she first arrived, was struck by his height, the wave in his black hair, then pinched herself thinking, "What am I doing?" and never lifted her eyes from the ground again. That day marked the beginning for Lily; she experienced feelings of shyness, the cramps in her stomach when Brian looked at her, the blushing of her cheeks, all without knowing what love meant. She felt all this for the first time at twelve, and those feelings for Brian grew like a secret garden in her heart, blooming with every glance and gesture, but never finding a voice to express them"