Anne settled into her seat by the window, the soft hum of the classroom surrounding her. Miss Lavelle, the teacher, continued her lesson with clear, steady words. Anne listened closely, her pen gliding over her notebook with slow focus—absorbing every bit she could.
At lunch, she wandered through the courtyard with her tray in hand. The gardens were beautiful, the air clean, the conversations around her lively—but distant. No one invited her to sit. No one approached. She found a quiet bench beneath a flowering tree and ate alone, grateful at least for peace.
The library after class was quiet and warm, filled with more books than Anne had ever seen. She wandered through the shelves, her fingers brushing gently over the spines, wishing she had someone to share it with—but she didn't. Not yet.
When the final bell rang, Anne stepped out and spotted Mr. Philip's driver waiting near the entrance. He opened the car door with a kind smile.
"Emily and Josh are already home," he said as she climbed in. "They had a lot to say."
Anne gave a soft nod, resting her hands in her lap. No friendships had been made. No one had asked about her. But she hadn't been mocked or rejected either.
She looked out the window as Ridgeview girls' college walls faded behind her.
Maybe today didn't change everything.
But it proved things could be different.
And that was enough—for now.
The house was quiet when Anne stepped through the door, her bag hanging loosely on her shoulder. Emily and Josh's laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, their voices light and full—still buzzing from their first day at school.
She made her way through the hallway, intending to head straight to her room when she paused. Mr. Philip's voice drifted faintly from his study, the door slightly ajar.
"…yes, Pat… I know. End of the month. I'll have everything ready," he said. His tone was gentle, but focused. "The kids are adjusting well… Anne too. But I haven't told her yet. I'm waiting for the right time."
Anne froze.
His wife? And kids?
She stepped back quietly, careful not to make a sound and walked into her room, her thoughts loud in the silence. The voices from Mr. Philip's study still echoed in her mind.
She sat down slowly on the edge of her bed, trying to steady her breath. The idea of Mr. Philip's real family returning—their rightful place in this house—coiled tight around her chest.What if we don't belong here at all?
What if we were just here until they arrived?
A quiet creak escaped beneath her foot as she shifted, and moments later, a gentle knock came at her door.
Mr. Philip peeked in, brows slightly raised in surprise. "Anne… I didn't know you were home."
Anne turned quickly, wiping at her eyes. "You were on a call," she said softly. "I didn't want to disturb you."
His expression changed immediately. Concern etched itself into his features as he stepped into the room.
"Have you been crying?" he asked gently. "Did something happen at school?"
She shook her head quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "No. Everything was fine."
Anne's voice trembled, her emotions barely contained as she wiped her eyes. She hadn't meant to cry, but the weight of the worry was too much. She turned to Mr. Philip, speaking in a small, strained voice.
"I overheard you on the call," she said, her words thick with uncertainty. "You were talking to your wife… about her and your kids coming back to the house at the end of the month."
Mr. Philip's expression softened, and he sat down next to her, not saying a word, just letting her continue.
"I—I'm scared," Anne admitted, her eyes red. "What if they don't like us? What if we're just… in the way? What if when they get here, you'll send us back to the streets?"
The words tumbled out before she could stop them, the fear in her chest raw and real. It had been a wonderful, terrifying thing to live in this house, to have everything she'd ever dreamed of. But now, with the thought of his family returning, that dream felt fragile, like it might shatter in an instant.
Mr. Philip's eyes softened, and he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on hers. "Anne," he said gently, his voice firm yet kind. "I want you to listen to me carefully. You're not going anywhere. This house is as much yours as it is mine, and it always will be. My wife knows about you and your siblings. She knows how important you are to me, and she can't wait to meet you."
Anne blinked in surprise, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes.
He smiled warmly, the same protective smile he always gave when he wanted to reassure them. "My family… they'll like you. You'll see. You'll be part of this family. Nothing is changing. I promised you that, didn't I?"
Anne nodded, though the doubt in her chest hadn't quite disappeared. She wanted to believe him—she really did—but a part of her still feared that the perfect life she had been given could be taken away.
"Everything's going to be okay," he added, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Anne took a deep breath, her chest still heavy but slightly relieved by his words. She wiped her eyes again, trying to gather herself.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to… to doubt everything."
Mr. Philip shook his head gently, his expression kind. "No need to apologize. It's normal to be worried about things we can't control. But I promise you—this is your home. It's not temporary."
Anne met his gaze, her heart slowly starting to settle. For now, his words were enough.
And maybe, just maybe, they would be enough for what was to come.