Chapter 1295
Chapter 1295:
An uneasy knot twisted in my chest, and I quickly squeezed her hand. “In that case, forget about going. I’m sorry, Kaya. I was thoughtless. I shouldn’t have put you in such a difficult spot.”
Kaya gently patted my hand, smiling softly to reassure me. “You’re a good girl.”
The following morning, golden sunlight filtered warmly through the thin curtains, illuminating the small room.
I felt more energized than usual, so I decided to help Kaya with household chores.
She showed me how to build a fire for cooking and taught me how to mend worn clothes. I did my best, though some tasks still escaped my inexperienced fingers, refusing to come smoothly.
By evening, determined to repay Kaya for all of her kindness, I insisted on preparing dinner.
Despite nearly slicing my finger while chopping vegetables and almost burning the soup, I somehow managed to create a decent meal.
“Kaya, try this,” I urged softly, placing a plate of greens in front of her. Then, after a thoughtful pause, I asked, “I’ve stayed with you all this time, but I never thought to ask… what about your family?”
Kaya’s hand froze mid-air.
Silence fell over the room, deep and heavy, so much so that the crackling firewood echoed clearly.
“Many years ago, during the war between the Wizard Clan and the werewolves, my husband and son were conscripted,” Kaya whispered, her voice brittle like dry leaves drifting in the wind. “They never returned.”
As she spoke, her fingers absently traced the rim of her bowl. “And my youngest daughter… she fell gravely ill and passed away some years ago. The clothes you’re wearing—they once belonged to her. I hope you don’t mind.” Moisture glittered in her cloudy eyes, threatening to spill over.
“They’re very warm,” I quickly reassured her, gently taking her trembling hand in mine. My throat tightened painfully. “I’ll cherish them always.”
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Realizing I had touched a painful memory, I lowered my head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Kaya. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Her eyes filled with unshed tears, yet she summoned a gentle smile. “Silly girl, it’s all in the past.”
Her calloused fingers softly brushed my hair, tenderness in every movement. “If my daughter were still here, she’d probably be around your age now.”
A sharp ache tightened my chest. I quickly placed a generous portion of slow-cooked mutton on her plate, eager to distract her. “Try this mutton, Kaya. I simmered it for hours.”
She took a bite, and her weathered face bloomed into a warm smile. “Delicious. You’re already a better cook than I am.”
Despite the tears lingering at the corners of her eyes, her smile carried genuine warmth.
The next morning, just as dawn painted the sky, I rose early to make oatmeal and steam a batch of rustic bread rolls.
I sat quietly at the dining table, waiting patiently, but Kaya never appeared. “Kaya? Breakfast is ready.” I knocked gently on her bedroom door, receiving no answer.
Worry crept up my spine as I pushed the door open, and dread instantly gripped my heart—Kaya lay curled up in bed, her face pale as porcelain, her cracked lips trembling faintly.
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