"I'm tired, Grandma," he whispered.
Noah did not even seem to realize what he had spoken. His voice was so soft, so raw, that it sent a shiver through .
And then, a single tear escaped the corner of his eye, sliding down his bruised cheek; falling onto my lap.
My breath caught in my throat as I reached for him and tried pulling him into my arms. He didn't resist, his body collapsing against mine like a child seeking comfort.
"I know, sweetheart," I murmured, stroking his damp hair. "I know."
Suddenly, he pulled away, standing up abruptly. His movents were unsteady, his legs trembling as he took a step back.
"Noah?" I called, startled, reaching out for him, but he shook his head, his face pale and hopeless.
"I need to..." he began, his voice trailing off. Without finishing his sentence, he turned and bolted up the stairs.
The door to his room slamd shut, the sound echoing through the house.
Monts later, I heard it—soft, muffled sobs that pierced my heart like a dagger.
I stood frozen for a mont, my hand hanging midair as I stared at the staircase. Every fibre of my being wanted to follow him, to hold him, to console him. But a part of understood that he needed space.
I sighed, wiping at my eyes with the corner of my shawl as I turned back to the living room. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the air, making my chest tighten with unspoken worry.
I clenched the edges of my shawl with trembling fingers.
"Your petite Grandma will let you be, my Noah," I whispered to the empty room, my voice shaking.
"Just this once."
***
_______________
The door slamd shut behind , the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit room.
My breaths ca in ragged intervals as I pressed my back against the door, my hands trembling.
The faint scent of the cigarette still clung to my skin, mixing with the rancid iron like tang of dried blood.
I scanned the room, my sanctuary and my prison. It was modest, a far cry from the grandeur of the Roro estate where I had spent my earlier years.
A single window with its fra slightly warped. It let the faint glow of moonlight in as the rain continued to pitter-patter.
The bed was pushed up against one corner, its sheets rumpled and unmade.
Beside it, a small nightstand held a flickering candle along with a worn out book with a cracked spine—the last gift my parents had given .
Across the bed stood a plain wooden table and chair, scratched and weathered from years of use.
Crumpled pages were scattered across the table, so marked with hastily scribbled notes, others left blank.
A lone lantern hung from the ceiling, its light dim and uneven.
This wasn't my ho. Not really.
This house—this tiny, weathered shell of a place—was where Grandma and I had ended up after being ousted from the Roro estate.
Stripped of our inheritance and banished to the outskirts of the Von Stien Empire, we were given this house as though it were so grand favour.
The Roro clan had wanted gone, out of sight and out of mind.
Grandma hadn't protested. I rembered the day we left, her frail hands clutching mine as we walked away from the gates of the estate.
She had whispered soothing words to , her voice steady despite the storm of emotions I could see swirling in her eyes.
She didn't care about the wealth or the power we were leaving behind. All she cared about was keeping safe.
And now, here we were, in a city where no one even knew the origins of my na.
There were many with the surna Roro after all—
But there was only one clan surnad Roro which was counted under the
7 Commandnts.
A title given to the Earth's 7 mightiest clans.
The weight of it all pressed down on as I slid my back down the wall, trying to steady my breathing.
My fingers clenched the smooth fabric of my shirt, pulling it taut against my bruised chest.
I tried to fight it—the lump rising in my throat, the sting in my eyes—but it was no use.
"I'm tired, Grandma," I had said downstairs, the words slipping out before I could stop them. But I hadn't just ant tonight. I was tired of everything.
I buried my face in my hands, the warmth of tears slipping down my cheek, tracing a path over my bruises.
My knees drew up to my chest, and I hugged them tightly as if I could hold myself together.
But I couldn't.
A choked sob escaped , shattering the fragile silence of the room. The emotions I had bottled up for so long—grief, anger, guilt—spilt out in broken gasps.
My shoulders shook, and my breath held itself as the tears ca in waves, wetting the fabric of my sleeves.
The walls of the room seed to close in on , the shadows growing darker and heavier. The small, flickering fla of the candle on the nightstand was the only light in the room, but even it felt distant, unreachable.
My body trembled as I sat there, curled up on the floor, the cold from the wooden boards seeping into my skin.
My head rested against my knees, and for a fleeting mont, I wished I could disappear into the darkness...
Away from the pain, the mories, and the crushing weight of the expectations I could never et.
Eventually, exhaustion took hold. My sobs quietened, replaced by the steady rhythm of my breathing.
My eyelids grew heavy and the room blurred around as sleep overtook .
The world faded, leaving only the faint scent of rain and the distant echo of what my parents told just before they had died in that car accident.
That they had found the cure to my illness.
***
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