Morning sunlight peeked shyly through the dining room's sheer curtains. Emilia prepared breakfast as usual, though her movements were more cautious today. Henri stood near the doorway, maintaining his usual silent vigilance.
Claire sat at the head of the table, her hair neatly pinned up, her neutral-toned work attire wrapping her figure elegantly. She sipped coffee while reviewing documents. Yet everyone in the room sensed it—something had changed these past few days.
And that change... was named Elliot.
The teenager now sat across from Claire, wearing a freshly ironed white shirt—courtesy of Emilia. He spoke little, but his eyes held undeniable comfort.
Henri, who typically remained silent, finally spoke softly, "Miss Claire, will there be... special arrangements for this permanent guest?"
Claire didn't answer immediately. She closed her file slowly, then lifted her gaze.
"Nothing changes. He's only staying temporarily."
Henri nodded and stepped back respectfully, though his eyes betrayed unanswered questions.
Elliot smirked faintly. "Guess I'm official now."
Claire ignored him. She stood, taking her handbag. But before leaving, she glanced at Elliot.
"I'll be home late. Don't disturb my study."
"I don't even know where it is," Elliot quipped lightly.
Claire left without reply.
---
That day, Claire attended a board meeting in her downtown high-rise. Amid the oak conference table and expansion talks, her focus fractured when an old colleague, Richard Velmont, mentioned something unexpected.
"I passed your neighborhood last night," Richard said casually. "You know, not many cars come and go there. But I saw a young man—a high schooler, perhaps—leaving your back door. Do you have a nephew?"
Claire froze for a fraction of a second. "No."
"Ah..." Richard smiled ambiguously. "Thought you'd finally adopted."
Light laughter from others prickled like needles. Claire didn't elaborate. She redirected the meeting to its usual conclusion—precise, cold, professional.
Yet in the car home, her mind churned.
---
Night fell. House lights glowed softly. Claire entered quietly, but her gaze was sharp. Emilia greeted her, but Claire only nodded curtly and headed straight to the living room.
Elliot sat on the floor with an old laptop, his hair slightly messy, scribbling notes from the screen.
"You're home early," he said without looking up.
"No," Claire countered. "Just checking... what someone I didn't invite has altered."
Elliot lifted his head. "Are you angry?"
"No," Claire replied coolly. "But I'd like a reason not to be."
Elliot closed the laptop gently. "You can kick me out tonight if that helps you feel distant again."
Claire didn't answer immediately. She stepped closer, standing over him.
"People are asking. About you. About your place in this house."
Elliot met her gaze. His eyes were calm, but not unmarked.
"If I'm just a burden, say so. I can leave. I'm used to being left behind."
The words hung—cold, yet fragile.
Claire studied him long. Then she said quietly, "You're not a burden. But you're not part of my plans either."
"Then... if I stay?" Elliot asked.
Claire lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "Then I'll need to face questions... I don't yet have answers to."
In the night's silence, two souls of different ages, worlds, and experiences began bridging the gap between them—their unspoken doubts quietly morphing into need.
Minutes after the conversation, Claire remained still. Elliot had returned to sitting, now silent, no longer typing or smiling as usual.
Normally, Claire would've retreated to her study, changed clothes, or requested Henri's report. But tonight was different. She sat—right on the sofa across from Elliot.
They didn't speak. Just sat.
And in that silence, Claire observed him. The way Elliot sat—unguarded, unstrained—made him seem younger than his years. More... lost.
"Where are your parents?" Claire asked abruptly.
Elliot wasn't startled. As if he'd been waiting.
"Never knew. The orphanage just said I was left wrapped in a blanket as a baby."
Claire's fingers brushed the table's edge. "No one ever looked for you?"
"No. I stopped hoping by age ten." Elliot exhaled slowly. "But weirdly, when I first saw you... I felt like I recognized something in your eyes."
Claire's brow furrowed slightly. "Meaning?"
"You... look like someone who knows what abandonment feels like. Even if it's a different kind."
The room grew quieter than ever.
Claire didn't answer. But within her, Elliot's words unlocked a long-sealed door. She never spoke of her past. No one knew why a woman like her never married, never let anyone too close. She never explained, because no one asked honestly enough.
Yet this boy—with his threadbare clothes, vague history, and reckless demeanor—saw deeper than anyone.
"Sorry," Elliot said later. "I talked too much."
Claire rose slowly. This time, without avoidance or dismissal.
"Tomorrow morning, Henri will bring you new uniforms."
Elliot looked up. "What do you mean?"
"That white shirt's too tight. You're growing fast."
Elliot smiled faintly. "You noticed."
Claire walked toward the stairs. But before ascending, she paused.
"You can stay. On one condition."
"What?" Elliot asked seriously.
"You keep attending school. And no more sleeping in the study."
Elliot nodded slowly. "Then... can I ask one thing?"
Claire half-turned. "What?"
Elliot gazed at her with softer eyes than usual.
"Why are you letting me stay?"
Claire didn't answer immediately. She only studied him for seconds before replying simply:
"Because I also want to know... what it's like not to be alone."
Then she climbed the stairs.
Leaving Elliot sitting motionless, his heart beating heavier than ever before.