The Outcast's Rebirth

CHAPTER 42: The Space Between Us

The next day, the mansion stirred with an unusual energy. The air was thick with a sense of quiet anticipation, as if everyone could feel that a change was coming.

Master Winston’s announcement the evening before had left a ripple in its wake. He had gathered the black servants in the drawing room, his tone serious but measured as he spoke.

“You’re no longer slaves,” he had said, his voice echoing in the dim light of the room.

“You were freed long ago. I’ve always kept you here because I believed I was providing a home, but I realize now... you deserve more. You deserve the choice to return home, to where you belong. if you wish. I will arrange for your passage. It is the least I can do.”

For many, it was a startling revelation, but for Bibi, a teenager with dark skin and braids, it had ignited something deep within him.

Born into the mansion’s service, he had never seen anything beyond the estate walls and the cobblestone streets of Britain.

The idea of Africa had always been a distant, almost mythical place.

The older servants spoke of it with reverence, telling stories of lands where the sun never hid behind clouds, where the warmth embraced you like a mother’s arms, and the air was fragrant with greenery.

Now, the prospect of seeing it with his own eyes filled Bibi with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.

He moved through his chores that morning with a sense of purpose, his hands quick and light as he worked on the carnations by one of the large windows in the hallway.

His mind, however, was far away_imagining the vast open plains, the animals he had only seen in books, the warm earth beneath his bare feet. He barely noticed the early morning light casting a soft glow over the flowers as he hummed quietly to himself.

But something caught his eye_movement in the room beyond the window. He hadn’t meant to pry, but curiosity got the better of him. His gaze shifted, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

There, in the drawing room, was Master Winston, seated on one of the velvet couches, his usual commanding presence diminished into something smaller, something fragile.

Beside him was someone Bibi had seen only in brief glimpses_a figure so striking, so different, that it was hard to forget.

Long, silver hair, braided delicately down the back, shimmered in the low light. The hair, impossibly soft, curled and shining, was unlike anything Bibi had ever seen on someone of African descent. It flowed like molten silver, an image so foreign it almost didn’t make sense.

But it wasn’t just the hair. The figure’s skin, darker than Bibi’s own but with a radiance that seemed to glow even in the dimness of the room, was stunning. Even in what appeared to be illness, the person was beautiful in a way that unsettled Bibi.

The light blue eyes, almost too piercing, contrasted sharply with the darkness of the skin, giving the figure an otherworldly appearance.

The beauty was so profound that it felt surreal, as if the person didn’t entirely belong to this world.

This was Kazi’s mother. Bibi had heard fragments of stories, rumors whispered in the corners of the kitchen late at night, but none of it had prepared him for this. The person lying there was so different from what Bibi had expected—so ethereal, so strange.

What struck Bibi most wasn’t just the beauty or the strangeness, though. It was the way Master Winston was sitting beside him, clutching at the man’s waist.