Rose Among Thorns

3-New beginnings

Rose Pov:

We've been driving in silence for a few minutes when my grandmother's phone rings, breaking the quiet hum of the car. "Hello?" she answers, her voice soft yet commanding. "Yes, I'm on my way home, and I have a surprise." She continues talking, her tone light and cheerful, but her words start to fade as I find myself drifting into my thoughts.

Who is she talking to? Is it...my father? Siblings? My mind spins with possibilities, each one feeling more surreal than the last.

After a while, the car slows, and I look up, realizing we're pulling up alongside a small private jet waiting on the tarmac. My heart skips as my eyes widen. My grandmother catches my gaze and smiles. "Come on, Rose," she says, reaching for her door handle. "We'll need to take a flight to get home."

I hadn't even noticed she'd finished her call, too distracted by the jet before us, gleaming white under the runway lights. The car door opens, and someone—a man in a uniform, I think—reaches out to help me step down. I barely process it, my focus fixed on the staircase extending down from the plane. My heart races, a mix of nerves and awe.

How much money does my grandmother have? I think, almost dizzy with the thought.

Inside, the cabin is more like a luxurious lounge than any airplane I'd imagined. There are about ten plush, leather seats, each with enough space to stretch out comfortably. I settle into one by the window, the leather soft and cool beneath me. Everything feels surreal. 

"You can make yourself comfortable. It'll be around a three-hour flight," my grandmother says gently, taking the seat across from me. I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. I don't want her to know how nervous I am. In truth, I've never been on a plane. The closest I've come is watching them fly overhead, the roar of engines echoing in the distance.

Soon, the engines hum to life, and the plane begins to taxi down the runway. I can feel the vibrations through the floor, and my stomach twists with nerves. I grip the armrests so hard my knuckles turn white, each jolt making me flinch. My eyes dart to the window, where the ground is rushing by faster and faster. Just when I feel like I might burst from nerves, I feel a warm hand settle over mine. I turn, surprised, and see my grandmother's calm, kind eyes.

"It's alright, Rose," she says gently. "I've got you."

Something in her voice eases the tension in my chest, and though I don't completely let go of the armrests, my grip loosens just a bit. I glance back out the window as we leave the ground, feeling the strange sensation of weightlessness tugging at me. After a few minutes, the plane levels out, and my pulse finally starts to slow. My body feels heavy, the adrenaline draining from me, leaving an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

My eyelids grow heavy, and the soft hum of the plane's engines lulls me into a haze. With my grandmother's hand resting lightly on mine, a warmth spreads through me that I haven't felt in a long time. Before I know it, my head droops, and I drift into a sleep filled with fragments of dreams—some dark, some hopeful—caught somewhere between my old life and the new one waiting for me.

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A soft tapping on my head pulls me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I blink my eyes open, adjusting to the low light and the hum of a car. We're not on the plane anymore, and for a moment, I'm disoriented, unsure of where I am.

"Welcome back," my grandmother says gently, noticing my confusion. "I didn't want to wake you on the plane. You looked so peaceful." Her voice is soft, almost motherly, and I feel a strange warmth spread through me.

"Thank you for not waking me, miss," I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Her lips tighten into a patient smile.

"There's no need to call me 'miss,' Rose. If you're not comfortable calling me Grandma, you may call me Alice." I nod, feeling a bit embarrassed, unsure how to navigate this strange new relationship.

The car comes to a gentle stop, and once again, someone steps forward to open my door. As I climb out, my jaw drops. Before me stands a sprawling mansion, its large stone walls illuminated by elegant lights along the pathway. It's like nothing I've ever seen outside of movies. It's not just a house—it's a world of its own.

"Is... is this where you live?" I ask, unable to keep the awe from my voice. Alice chuckles softly, amused by my reaction.

"This is where you will live," she corrects with a kind smile. "Welcome home, Rose."

I barely have a moment to let her words sink in before the large double doors swing open, and a young man stands there, looking slightly exasperated. He has an air of confidence about him but seems tense as he studies Alice with a frown.

"Grandma, where have you been? You're four hours late," he says, his tone a mixture of worry and relief.

Alice waves her hand dismissively. "I went to pick up your sister," she replies matter-of-factly, her voice steady.

The young man blinks, looking from Alice to me with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "My... sister?" he repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Grandma, do you need to get checked for dementia?"

Alice chuckles at his words, shaking her head as though his disbelief were amusing rather than offensive. She steps aside and gestures toward me with a graceful sweep of her arm. "You do indeed have a sister. Look here, dear."

The man's gaze sharpens, his eyes lingering on my face with a mixture of skepticism and something else—curiosity, maybe, or confusion. He stands there frozen, taking me in as though waiting for me to vanish.

Alice heads inside the house, leaving us standing alone in the entryway. His eyes are still fixed on me, uncertain, almost wary, as though he's caught in a strange dream he can't wake from.

"I... I'm sorry if my grandmother confused you," he says, his voice softer now, though the uncertainty is still evident. "But I think there must be a mistake."

Before I can respond, Alice calls out from inside. "No mistake at all. Now let the child in. We need to speak with your father." Her tone is firm, brooking no argument, and he steps aside, gesturing awkwardly for me to enter.

I walk inside, feeling a nervous flutter in my stomach as my shoes tap against the polished marble floors. The foyer is breathtaking, filled with soft, warm lighting and tasteful decor. There's a fireplace with an intricately carved mantel, and the walls are adorned with oil paintings, each framed in gold.

Alice, now standing in the hallway, motions for me to follow. I glance back at the young man, who is still staring at me, clearly bewildered, before turning to follow Alice down a long corridor. The hallway is filled with the faint scent of lavender, and I notice more paintings along the walls, each one depicting landscapes or distant relatives, judging by their resemblance to Alice.

We finally reach a large set of black double doors. Alice pauses, takes a deep breath, and knocks. There's a muffled response from within: "Come in."

Alice opens the doors, and I step inside. The room is large and imposing, lined with dark wood and high shelves filled with books. At a polished desk sits a man who could be the older, more seasoned version of the young man at the door. His eyes are sharp, intelligent, and he has an air of authority about him that's hard to ignore.

He looks up, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in Alice's presence. "Alice," he says, his voice carrying both command and a hint of warmth. "What brings you here to my office?"

Alice nudges me gently forward. "Meet your daughter," she says, her tone calm and matter-of-fact.

For a second, his expression freezes, and I feel my stomach twist with nerves. The man's gaze settles on me, his eyes narrowing as he processes Alice's words.

"Eh... hi," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling incredibly small under his intense stare.

Words 1369

What will he think?