Page 37 of Nocturne

“Mariam’s classes usually start early. The students will expect the same from you.”

She considers my words, then nods. “You’re right.”

“Have a wonderful day,” I say, pulling her into a hug.

“Thanks, sweetie. Take care, okay? If you feel any discomfort or pain, call me or Iyra. We’ll come right away.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It’s heartwarming that they care so much, but treating me like a porcelain doll is too much.

Take my kitchen, for example—neither can cook, yet I’m banned from it. Iyra can bake, but her cooking is a disaster, and Ivy burned dinner twice on the first day before declaring we’d live on takeout. I hate eating takeout daily, but the last time I tried to cook, Iyra practically snapped my hand off.

They need to dial down the overprotectiveness. Not that I’d dare say it out loud. Ivy climbs back into her car, and I turn my wheelchair around.

Despite the pain, I smile when I see the cracked pathway leading towards a Victorian building. I can hear the faint noise of the kids who must be playing in the backyard.

Hope Springs Homeis more than just an orphanage to me. It is the place that has taught me how to live again.

I wheel myself towards the ramp beside the stairs, taking in a large inhale of the fresh air.

This part of the city was left behind long ago when development shifted westward. The building, once donated to charity, became a home for abandoned children when Ellie’s mom first opened its doors. It’s here that I learned to find happiness in the smallest things.

Children teach patience and kindness; they’re full of boundless love and trust, untouched by the cruelty and hatred of the world. Volunteering here feels like a way to atone for my sins. If I can change even a few of their lives and guide them toward a better future, maybe I’ll find some peace—and finally sleep at night.

As I wheel toward the main doors, Ellie, the manager and owner, approaches with a tall, timid-looking girl trailing behind her. Ellie’s kind eyes meet mine, her usual anger softening into something more pained.

“How are you feeling, Ara?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I smile at her, and she returns reluctantly.

When I look behind her, she clears her throat and steps sideways.

“This is Harley. She joined as a volunteer this morning.” Ellie introduces.

I offer her a smile, and she returns it hesitantly. Her long dress, a size too loose, falls to her ankles, and her platinum blonde hair framing her striking features. Blue-grey eyes, a button nose, plump pink lips, and high cheekbones—she looks like a goddess.

But something about her feels… off. Or is it familiar? I can’t quite place it.

Her hunched shoulders and darting eyes betray her unease, tension bleeding into every inch of her posture. A sudden noise from the playground makes her flinch, and I watch as she shifts uncomfortably, like she’s never at home, never settled in her own skin.

Does she even know what it feels like to belong anywhere?

Then it hits me, sharp and cold, like a slap to the chest. A twist of recognition.

The hollow look in her eyes—it’s painfully familiar. I don’t need to know her story to see it. It’s the unmistakable markof someone who’s been broken, who’s survived abuse. My chest tightens as the bitter truth sinks in.

Abused women recognise each other without words—a silent, invisible bond of shared pain.

Looking at Harley now—her face etched with fear and pain—is like looking at a reflection of my younger self. The girl who escaped a monster’s clutches but never quite left the nightmare behind, still trembling, still haunted, never truly free.

“Nice to meet you, Harley. I’m Ara,”

“Pleasure meeting you,” Harley nods.

Before I can ask how she likes it here, the sound of tiny footfalls reaches my ears. Cas bursts out of the home, his rare smile—the one he saves just for me—lighting up his pretty face as he leaps into my arms.

Pain flares in my hip from his weight, but I don’t care. I hug the little bundle of joy tightly, emotions warring on my face.

I glance at Ellie, silently asking about his adoption. Her expression—an anguished mix of pain and anger—tells me everything I need to know. The anger she harbours for me reignites as she watches me hold Cas close, his small head buried against my neck.

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