The last Snowfall

Chapter 2

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Narrator pov/ Arjun pov
"Mmm..." I murmured, slowly opening my eyes to the sight of a wooden ceiling above me. The rustic beams were familiar yet foreign, a relic of another time. Sitting up quickly, I became acutely aware of my surroundings, flinging the blanketed from my body as if shedding a layer of drowsiness.

An old home , its charm evident in the weathered wood and the faint scent of something sweet lingering in the air. My gaze fell upon trinkets scattered on the floor, each holding a whisper of a forgotten story. A delicate porcelain figurine caught my eye, chipped at the edge, retaining that grace of its former self. Nearby, a sturdy desk stood against the wall, cluttered with papers, books, and a small lamp that has since use throughout the years.

Crawling down from the bed, uneasiness wash over me. I crept towards the door, heart racing as I cracked it open slightly, just enough to peer outside. I was greeted by the sight of a quaint kitchen, its timeworn elegance drawing me in. A man stood with his back to me, absorbed in chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board betraying a sense of familiarity but isolation.

But as I focused on the man, a chill grow within my spine. He seemed unaware of my presence, yet my instincts screamed that I was not safe. Shifting my view back to the doorway, I knew that I couldn't make it outside before he noticed me.

I took a cautious step back, my mind flooded with questions. Looking back at him, the sound of his knife tapping on the cutting board echoing in the silence. A decision hung heavy in the air—whether I should confront him or find a way to escape without drawing attention?

The gravity of uncertainty pressed down on me, and my heart pounded in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I tried to stay calm.

As I nestled into the small nook, the coolness of the floor seeped into my skin, grounding me despite the fear coursing through my veins. I took a moment to steady my breath, trying to silence the frantic pounding of my heart. With trembling hands, I arranged a few dusty books in front of me, their worn spines offering a meager camouflage.

From my hiding spot, I could hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching—slow, deliberate—growing louder with each passing second. My heart raced, the sound echoing in my ears as I strained to listen, desperate for any clues to what might happen next.

The door creaked open, and I caught a glimpse of him stepping into the room. His expression was a mix of shock and wariness, he had dropped the bowl on the grown frantically looking around as if he were looking for something—or someone. I held my breath, barely daring to blink as he scanned the room, his gaze drifting over the bed, then the desk, lingering just a moment too long on the books stacked high.

"Where are you?" he muttered to himself, his voice low and worried making me second-guess my act of hiding.

He moved closer to the bed, glancing beneath it, and I instinctively pressed back into the nook, praying the shadows would cloak me from his sight. I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks, the panic welling up inside me like a tidal wave threatening to crash.

"Are you still there, I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you um can you please come out" he asked while looking around "your very hurt I found you in the alleyway, I promise I'm not a bad person" seeing that I still would come out he sighed " come out when you want, I will go get you another bowl of soup ok" standing back up he walks back out of the room.

The door clicked softly behind him, I felt the weight of his words hang in the air. I hesitated, still curled up in the corner, my heart racing. The broken pieces from the bowl scattered around the door, remnants of a chaotic moment that now felt like a misunderstanding.