Page 12 of Withered

“You like it?” She says it in a low, soft voice that I can barely hear.

“Yes, very much.” I nod, smiling at her.

“I am Aria,” she says as she approaches in front of me.

“Hi, Aria. My name is Rose.” I wave at her.

“Will you be my friend? I don’t have any,” she asks as her lovely eyes draw me in.

“Of course I will be.”

“Promise?” She extends her pinkie finger in front of me.

“Yeah. I promise.” I take her pinkie finger. I’m starting to adore her already.

“Let’s go inside now,” Esme says. I almost forgot they're standing here.

The construction of the house is the same as ours, just a little smaller. It feels cozier here. I’ve always liked small houses. I’m so used to bigger ones that I’ve grown obsessed with small ones. There is a living room, kitchen, and dining hall, and there should be two or three rooms upstairs.

I feel a tug at my right hand and notice that Aria’s fingers are wrapped around my palm. She’s giving me a soft, shy smile, and my heart clenches at this sight.

I smile back. She feels like a little sister I never had.

Mom left a while ago to make dinner while I was at Esme’s house. She said I should keep Aria company because she started crying when we were about to leave. Even though Esme denied needing any assistance, we helped her with the furniture. I help Esme with her groceries while Aria was playing video games.

“Can I ask you something?” I look at Esme, who is busy lining the plates.

“Sure, go ahead,” she urges. She’s leaning on the kitchen island, her eyes showing no offense at all.

“Are you British? I mean, you have that accent.” I bit my lip. A habit when I get nervous sometimes.

“Oh yes. We are from London.” She states.

“Wow, it must be good, right? I want to visit there.” I tell her. Ever since I read Jane Austen, all I wanted was to visit her hometown to see what inspired her to write such great books.

“It’s lovely there. So, I take it you love reading?” She asks me.

“Yes, very much.” Esme requested that I take Aria with me after we had finished with the groceries. Mom thought it’d be best to invite Esme and Aria for dinner since all the time had been spent unpacking stuff.

I head over to my house with Aria, who’s quite energetic for her age. After playing video games for more than an hour, she is still the same.

“Hey, Mom, are you done?” I notice beads of sweat on her forehead.

“Almost done, honey,” she replies.

“Did you make anything special?” I ask her, fully aware that she already had. Whenever she invites someone to dinner, she takes it quite seriously. No mistakes.

“My very own lasagna.” She smiles at me, and I start squealing.

“Aria, honey, you should eat first; you must be tired,” Mom says to the little one standing beside me.

“I’ll eat when my brother comes. He said he would be with me tonight,” she replies.Brother, did I hear her correctly?

“You have a brother?” I ask her.

“Yes, my big brother.” She’s smiling.

The doorbell rings, and I leave the kitchen to answer it. Esme is now dressed in a different outfit. I invite her inside, and we both enter the kitchen.

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