In Another's Silence

Cinder Taunts & Care.

Chapter 4: (Author's pov)

After a good cry, Irabella heard her mother's voice calling her from downstairs. Quickly wiping her tears, she tried to compose herself. She didn't want her mother to see her like this-fragile and sad. She made her way to their small, cozy bathroom.

The bathroom was typical of a middle-class family in the early 1800s-simple, but cared for. The walls were made of weathered wood, giving the space a rustic charm. A brass tub, filled with warm water her mother must've heated earlier, stood in the corner.

There were a few shelves on the wall, holding homemade soaps and fresh linen towels. The dim glow of a single candle flickered near the basin, casting a gentle light around the room. Lavender hung from the windowsill, filling the air with a faint calming scent.

Irabella slipped into the tub, the warmth immediately comforting her sore body and fragile heart. She closed her eyes, letting the heat soothe her, trying to push away the sting of the day's events.

The water was calming, but her thoughts raced. She couldn't shake off how humiliated she felt, how small she seemed in the eyes of people who thought less of her because of her status.

Those boys were jerks. She thought bitterly. It wasn't just an academic building; it was a fortress of the elite, where they taught more than just subjects. They taught arrogance. They taught the rich to see the poor as less, and she hated it with every fiber of her being.

After washing up and letting the water do its best to cleanse both her body and her spirit, Irabella dried herself off with one of the soft towels. She slipped into a clean white frock and brushed her hair back, tying it with a simple ribbon. Though her heart still ached, she felt a little more composed now.

When she finally went downstairs, the familiar smell of cooking greeted her. Her mother was bustling around the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup and setting the table. The small kitchen was warm, the fire in the hearth crackling softly.

It was a comforting space, with herbs hanging by the window and shelves lined with jars of spices. The table had vegetables ready to be chopped, and the dough her mother had prepared earlier was rising slowly under a clean cloth.

Her mother turned, her face lighting up when she saw Irabella, but her smile quickly faded when she noticed the slight redness around her daughter's eyes.

Agnes: Did you cry, love?

Her mother asked softly, her eyes were full of concern. Irabella shook her head quickly, reaching for the vegetables on the table.

Irabella: No, I didn't.

She replied, but her voice was tight, and she avoided her mother's gaze. Her mother was silent for a moment, watching her daughter closely as she picked up a knife and began chopping the carrots. Irabella's hands moved quickly, a little too quickly, as if she was trying to distract herself.

Agnes: You can tell me if something's wrong.

Her mother said gently, turning back to the pot she was stirring.

Agnes: I can always tell when something's bothering you.

Irabella kept her eyes focused on the task in front of her. She didn't want to burden her mother with her worries. She already worked so hard to keep the family going; the last thing Irabella wanted was to add to her troubles.

Irabella: It's nothing.

Irabella muttered, her tone distant. Her mother wasn't convinced. She glanced over at Irabella again, her brow furrowing slightly as she asked.

Agnes: Is it because of your favourite bow?

Irabella froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. She had forgotten all about the ribbon in the midst of everything.