The week moved steadily, each day folding into the next with a rhythm Anne was starting to recognize.
At Ridgeview, she wasn't invisible anymore. Maya made sure of that. Whether it was sharing lunch under the tree near the east wing or walking the halls exchanging whispers and laughter, Anne had found something she hadn't expected so soon—presence. Friendship. A feeling that she belonged, even just a little.
Maya talked about everything and nothing. About teachers who gave too much homework, students who wore perfume like armor, and how Ridgeview's garden club was secretly where all the gossip happened.
Anne listened, laughed, and sometimes added her own quiet observations. With Maya, she didn't feel like an outsider anymore.
At home, life was calm in a way that felt almost unfamiliar. Emily and Josh returned from school every day with wild stories and smudged uniforms. Emily had started teaching Josh how to write "bubble letters." Josh, in return, tried to teach her how to bark like his new favorite cartoon dog.
Anne did the evening dishes. Helped with homework. Folded laundry. The quiet, ordinary things that somehow made everything feel safe.
Mr. Philip stayed kind and present. He asked how Maya was. Offered advice on a history test. Watched Emily's reenactments of her school plays with genuine applause.
But Elsa hadn't spoken to her. Not once.
She passed Anne in the hallway with tight shoulders and a sharp silence. At dinner, she spoke only to her parents. Her glances were quick, unreadable—like Anne was a question she didn't want to answer.
Still, Anne said nothing. She didn't push. She didn't pry.
Thursday evening, Anne stood by her window, brushing Emily's hair as the sun poured orange light across the room. The breeze was cool, the house was quiet, and for the first time in a long time, things felt steady.
But Saturday was coming.
And with it, change.
Anne didn't fear losing her place here—Mr. Philip had made that clear. But she didn't know what it meant to live with a woman who had raised two children of her own. A woman who might smile, but carry thoughts Anne couldn't read.
She wondered what kind of person Mrs. Pat was. What she'd see when she looked at Anne.
Not a burden. Not a stranger.
Hopefully… just a girl doing her best.