A strange and nostalgic sentiment came with such warmness and the small body I was in nestled into the woman’s bosom by itself, enjoying the calm cosiness. It was frustrating I couldn’t do what I wanted but right now, aside from the words the woman was uttering, it was the thing that less mattered to me as I was caught by the intense but distant nostalgic feeling because I knew it wasn't born from this body but from the depths of my soul.

Memories of a faraway past I thought it was forgotten began to assault me, triggering my mind and pulling the wrong way the rusted cords of my heart—I cried. I was remembered of my bright childhood; it was a good but a short one.

The melting mildness of a motherly embrace left me at a young age. It wasn't because of death so you might think it's even sadder, I guess. My mother left both, my father and me—she didn't take me with her.

I was sad at the time and a sense of loss had surrounded me before being mad at my father but then, I took notice, my father had been the one who had felt the worst, probably. The well behaved and dedicated me began after that event.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Thinking back, now I understand I was never able to overcome it. Me burying the matter and not looking after my mother for an explanation didn't mean I had done it, I miss her... I want to see her… Those thoughts were the loudest in my mind despite some soundless contradictory ones.

The warmness left me as I was put on the bed and the coolness I felt brought me back from my remembrance despite having being covered by the furry blankets, hearing the young woman's soft voice as she wiped away my tears, "... my little pearl, don't cry.

"Those maids... where have they gone? Don't they know you don't like being alone?!

“Hmph, I specifically tell them to not leave your side as I took a quick bath.

"Haah, why the bad and good things happen while I'm not here?" her last sentence contained reproach and guilt.

I didn't reply and only looked at her deeply when she looked back at her two maids with displeasure when she was making her questioning.

She turned her head back at me and I felt an urge to hide myself within the blankets; it was as though I had done something bad but I hadn't—it had been this body's reaction. Hence, I barely uttered hoarsely as I was conscious of my thirst again, "Water."