The car door closed with a finality that echoed in Aiko’s heart, the sound of a grim punctuation to the end of her life as it had been. She stood a solitary figure on the neatly swept driveway, gazing up at the house that was now her reluctant refuge. It loomed before her, grand in stature but lacking the soulful embrace of Hiroto’s modest abode. Paige’s home was a stark canvas of whites and grays, the lines rigid and uncompromising, leading Aiko’s eyes to a front door that seemed more like a barrier than an entry. The flowers, meticulously arranged in their beds, held no fragrance; even nature appeared subdued here. Stepping inside, the chill of the air was immediate. Hiroto’s home had always pulsed beyond temperature—a warmth born of laughter shared over simmering pots in the kitchen and the soft glow of evening conversations. Here, the silence clung to the walls, oppressive, the light too bright, washing out any potential for comfort.
“Your room is upstairs,” Paige declared, not a hint of welcome in her voice. Her words fell flat, devoid of the affectionate guidance Hiroto always offered.
Aiko ascended the staircase, each step a leaden effort. The room assigned to her was immaculate, impersonal, with a bed that promised no rest and windows that framed a world she no longer felt part of. Her suitcase contained several changes of clothes, toiletries and several precious photos of a better time. A solitary tear moved across her face as the memories flooded in.
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“Your father left you quite a sum,” Paige said, a statement woven with ice. “But we must be prudent with how it’s used.”
Aiko’s hands trembled, a silent plea for answers she feared to hear.
“Your meals, your clothes—they will all come from an allowance,” Paige continued, her gaze sharp and calculating. “We must think long-term, Aiko. After all, I am responsible for you now.”
“Come down for dinner; it will be ready soon,” Paige said as she left the room.
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About thirty minutes later, Aiko summoned the courage to go to Paige’s table. The food set before Aiko was sparse, sustenance without soul. The rice, once a symbol of home, now sat cold and unadorned on her plate. Where Hiroto would have filled the space between them with stories and gentle encouragement, Paige’s presence was a void, her attention elsewhere, always elsewhere.