Bonding With Leah
843 Words
The Renfield estate rarely welcomed outsiders.
Guests came in polished shoes and polished words, but they were almost always adults—cold, courteous, and calculated. Alina had grown used to it. She was expected to stay in the background, smile when spoken to, and answer questions without revealing how much she didn’t know.
But today was different.
Vivian had summoned her to the greenhouse.
She never summoned her anywhere.
Alina walked down the long corridor, her hands clasped in front of her, the memory of last night’s dream still fresh in her chest. Another flicker of a life she didn’t remember: a treehouse. Someone laughing. The smell of cinnamon.
She shook it off.
At the end of the corridor, the doors to the greenhouse opened into a space of glass and light. Vines curled over the rafters, sunlight beaming through the crystal panels. The scent of jasmine filled the air.
Vivian stood beside a young girl with chestnut curls and dark, wide eyes.
“This,” Vivian said with a rare softness, “is Leah Myles.”
The girl offered a bright smile. “Hi.”
Alina blinked. “Hi.”
“She’ll be staying with us for a while,” Vivian continued. “Her parents are abroad. I thought it might be good for you to have… company.”
Alina understood what that really meant: someone her own age. A calculated decision. Another piece on the chessboard.
But Leah didn’t feel like a pawn.
She wore faded jeans, a sunflower-yellow sweater, and had a smudge of ink on her right thumb. Her energy was light, untamed, and entirely out of place in the manicured structure of the estate.
“I like your clip,” Leah said, pointing to the butterfly in Alina’s hair.
“Thank you,” Alina replied. “It was… mine. Before.”
“Oh,” Leah said, pausing. “Before what?”
Alina hesitated. “Before I forgot everything.”
Leah’s eyes widened, but there was no fear in them. Only curiosity. “You forgot everything?”
Alina nodded.
“Even your favorite color?”
“Even that.”
Leah grinned. “Well, we better start figuring out who you are, then. That’s a mystery I can get behind.”
---
Within the hour, Leah had unofficially declared herself Alina’s personal memory detective.
“Okay,” she said, sitting cross-legged in the garden with a sketchpad. “Let’s start with the basics. What things feel familiar?”
Alina shrugged. “Drawing. Quiet. Gardens.”
“Great. That’s a personality already. You’re a calm, artistic plant fairy.”
Alina blinked. “That’s… oddly specific.”
“I know,” Leah said proudly. “I’m very good at making titles. You should see what I call my cat.”
“You have a cat?”
“Not here. He’s staying with my aunt. His name is Lord Meowington the Third.”
Alina laughed. Not the polite giggle she’d learned at the estate—but a real, sharp laugh that cracked through the stillness inside her.
It surprised them both.
Leah tilted her head. “There she is.”
“There who is?”
“You. The girl under the quiet. The one that laughs.”
Alina looked away, unsure of how to respond.
---
Over the next few days, Leah became a constant in her world.
They took walks through the woods beyond the estate, watched clouds from the library windows, and even snuck cookies from Mrs. Hale’s kitchen while pretending to be spies.
Alina didn’t say much about her memory loss—but Leah never pushed.
She only said things like, “When you’re ready, I’ll help you remember,” or “You don’t need a past to matter.”
No one had ever said that to her before.
Not even Vivian.
---
One rainy afternoon, the two girls sat curled in the east parlor with cocoa mugs warming their hands. A storm tapped gently at the tall windows.
“Do you ever think about where you’re from?” Leah asked.
Alina shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Do you want to remember?”
Alina turned toward the window. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like… if I remember, I’ll have to go back. And I’m not sure if I belong anywhere else anymore.”
Leah nodded slowly. “I think you belong where you feel loved. That’s all that matters.”
Alina looked at her, blinking back sudden tears.
No one had told her that either.
---
Later that night, Vivian watched them from the doorway.
She didn’t interrupt, but her gaze lingered longer than usual.
Dr. Rowan stood beside her, quiet.
“She’s smiling again,” he said.
“She’s forgetting to be afraid,” Vivian murmured.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
Vivian didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked to Alina’s butterfly clip.
“It depends what she remembers next.”
Perfect! Here's Chapter Eight: Friction and Trust, continuing from the warm bond formed between Alina and Leah—and the tension it quietly stirs with Lucas Renfield.
- Writer
