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1847 Words
Monica stood there for a long moment, staring at the window where John had disappeared. The morning air still lingered in the room, cool against her skin, but the warmth of his presence was gone. She wiped her tear away with the back of her hand and took a deep, shaky breath.
Her chest ached. The weight of everything pressed down on her—the sudden move, leaving Avana, John’s anger. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg her parents to change their minds. But what was the point? The decision had been made.
She turned back to her suitcase, her fingers feeling numb as she folded the rest of her clothes. Each piece she packed felt heavier than before, as if she were storing away the last pieces of her old life. Her bookshelf caught her eye, filled with stories she had collected over the years. Some she had read a dozen times, others still waiting to be opened.
She reached for her favorite—an old, worn copy of Wuthering Heights. She ran her fingers over the cover before tucking it into her bag. At least she could take a piece of this place with her.
A knock at her bedroom door startled her.
“Monica, the car’s here,” her Ibarely made a sound.
She zipped up her suitcase, glancing around her room one last time. The walls, the window, the bed—everything that had been hers for so long. Would she ever come back?
She grabbed her suitcase handle and pulled it off the bed. Her chest felt hollow as she stepped toward the door, pausing only for a second before opening it.
Her parents were waiting in the hallway. Her mother gave her a soft, reassuring smile, but her father was already walking toward the front door, carrying a couple of bags.
Monica followed them outside, her heart pounding in her ears.
The car sat in the driveway, its headlights cutting through the darkness. The driver, a man in a black coat, stood beside it, waiting.
Her mother gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
Monica just nodded, unable to trust her voice.
As she stepped into the car, she cast one last glance toward the village. The small houses, the dirt roads, the towering trees that surrounded Avana—it was all she had ever known. And now, she was leaving it behind.
And John.
She blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears as the car door closed.
The engine rumbled to life.
And just like that, her old life faded into the distance.
The car rumbled down the winding dirt roads of Avana. Monica sat in the backseat, her hands gripping her suitcase tightly as if holding onto it would somehow keep her connected to the life she was leaving behind. Her mother sat beside her, occasionally glancing at her with concern, while her father sat in the front, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
The village grew up smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely, swallowed by the dense forest that bordered it. Monica turned her gaze to the window, watching as the trees blurred past. She felt hollow, empty, like a piece of her had been left behind with John.
John.
She squeezed her eyes shut, replaying their argument over and over in her head. The way his voice had cracked, the hurt in his eyes when he realized she wasn’t going to fight back.
“I thought you were stronger than this.”
His words haunted her, cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Was she really weak? Had she just let her parents make this choice for her without even trying to fight it?
A soft sigh escaped her lips. It didn’t matter anymore. The decision had been made.
The car ride stretched on in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustling of trees as the wind passed through them. Time felt slow, yet all too fast at the same Monica fell asleep.
Hours passed before the scenery started to change.And Mrs Williams woke Monica up,who came to realize that it's already dark.
A city unfolded before her, stretching beneath the night sky like a masterpiece painted in golden lights. The skyline was breathtaking—tall glass buildings reflecting the stars, wide streets lined with trees wrapped in fairy lights, and bustling roads alive with the hum of city life. It was nothing like the quiet, earthy village she had always known.
Her father glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Welcome to Velmora.”
Velmora.
The name had an elegant sound to it, fitting for a place that looked like it had been pulled straight from a dream.like the towering steel-and-glass cities she had read about in books, Velmora was almost like it.Sleek skyscrapers, and wide, clean streets were lined with boutique shops, cafés, and colorful flower stands.
Monica’s mother sighed wistfully. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Monica didn’t answer. She couldn’t deny that it was, but that didn’t make leaving Avana any easier.
The car turned onto a quieter road, where the city’s energy softened into peaceful elegance. Massive trees with twisting branches lined the streets, their leaves rustling under the soft glow of ornate streetlights. The houses here weren’t just houses—they were mansions. Expansive, luxurious, and standing behind tall gates with manicured gardens.
Monica’s stomach twisted as their car slowed in front of one of them.
A massive white mansion stood before her, bathed in the glow of the driveway’s lanterns. It had towering windows with intricate black frames, a grand double-door entrance, and elegant balconies wrapped in ivy. The driveway stretched in a perfect arc, leading to a fountain in the center, where water cascaded gracefully over white stone.
As the car came to a stop , Monica’s father opened his door first, stepping out with an air of curiosity. Her mother followed, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.
Monica hesitated before stepping out onto the smooth stone driveway. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of roses and fresh-cut grass.
Then, she saw them.
A line of six women, all dressed in pristine white uniforms, stood in perfect formation near the entrance. Their hands were clasped in front of them, their expressions calm and composed. They looked almost unreal, like figures from an old painting.
Monica’s mother gasped softly. “Oh my… I wasn’t expecting this.”
Before they could say anything more, a man stepped forward from the shadows of the entrance. He was tall and refined, dressed in a sleek black suit that contrasted sharply with the maids' white attire. His hair was neatly combed, and a silver pocket watch gleamed from his coat.
He approached with a composed smile, bowing his head slightly in greeting. His voice was smooth, cultured, and respectful.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. And Miss Monica.” His dark eyes flickered toward her for the briefest moment before he continued. “I am Jasper, a devoted helper and assistant to the late Mr. Gerik.”
Monica’s father nodded, still taking in the sight of the mansion. “It’s a pleasure, Jasper.”
Jasper’s smile remained warm yet unreadable. “This home has awaited your arrival. It is an honor to welcome you to the Gerik Mansion.” He gestured toward the maids. “These fine ladies will assist you with your belongings.”
At his command, the maids stepped forward in perfect synchronization, reaching for the suitcases with gentle efficiency.
Monica’s mother blinked in astonishment. “Oh, my… This is quite something.”
Jasper inclined his head. “Mr. Gerik valued comfort and care above all else. You will find that everything here is designed to ensure your well-being.”
Monica felt a strange chill run down her spine. There was something about Jasper—about all of this—that felt too perfect. Too well-prepared.
Jasper turned gracefully and gestured toward the entrance. “Allow me to show you to your rooms.”
As the maids carried their luggage inside, Monica followed slowly, the weight in her chest growing heavier.
They were led up the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floors.
As they reached the top, Jasper’s calm, polite voice rang out. “Ladies, you may retire for the night. Please rest. The family will be settled soon enough.”
The maids nodded in unison, their expressions still serene, before they disappeared down the hallway to their own quarters.
One of the women who stayed behind, slightly younger than the other maids, turned to Monica with a soft smile. “Miss Monica, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room where you can rest,” she said gently, her voice almost musical.
Monica nodded, still a little dazed by the grandeur of the mansion.
The maids nodded in unison, their expressions still serene, before they disappeared down the hallway to their own quarters.
Monica glanced back briefly as her mother and father followed Jasper down another hall, the flicker of curiosity in her father’s eyes still evident. They seemed to be deep in conversation, but her attention drifted back to the maid who was leading her.
The maid’s smile never faltered as she gestured to a door at the end of the long hallway. “This is your room, Miss Monica.”
Monica hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.
The room was vast—much larger than her own room back in Avana—and decorated with an elegance that took her breath away. The walls were painted in soft creams and pale golds, and the furnishings were antique, yet perfectly maintained. A large, canopied bed sat against one wall, draped in thick, luxurious fabrics. To the side, a fireplace flickered softly, casting a warm glow across the room.
The maid stepped inside after her, setting Monica’s suitcase down by the foot of the bed. “I trust you’ll find everything to your liking,” she said. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Monica forced a small smile. “Thank you.”
The maid gave a polite nod and turned to leave. “I’ll leave you to rest. Goodnight, Miss Monica.”
Monica nodded quietly as the door clicked softly behind her.
She stood in the center of the room for a long moment, her eyes taking in the surroundings. The grandeur was overwhelming, and yet, the room felt cold. Foreign. Not like home.
Monica sat down on the edge of the bed, still clutching the corners of her suitcase. It felt so strange to be here, surrounded by the silence of the mansion. She wondered if she would ever get used to this.
The weight of the day—the move, the strange welcome—settled heavily on her shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but something told her she wouldn’t be able to sleep just yet.
But for now, it was her only choice.
- Writer
