The Road Named Yara

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I snapped out of it and realized we were already at the orphanage.

It was much better than I remembered. With the Lane family's financial support, Olivia no longer had to run around looking for donors.

When the children saw me, they ran over to greet me. Olivia, busy tidying up the toys, was a little surprised, but then her face lit up with happiness as she jogged over and hugged me.

"Why didn't you call first? Are you tired? What do you want to eat tonight? I'll cook it for you."

The familiar scent of soapberries on Olivia made me suddenly want to cry.

I buried my face in her arms, holding back my tears, "Anything you make, I want to eat."

Olivia chuckled and went to the kitchen to cook, leaving me to take care of the little ones.

Since the funding came through, the children smiled more. They clung to me, asking me to tell them stories about the Lane family.

But what stories could I tell? I hadn't seen Marcos in a month, and even though I saw my parents every day, they ignored me. When they were in a good mood, they would nod at me.

I could only rack my brain, trying to think of what the pampered princesses in the fairy tales I read about had been treated like, and I would act it out and tell the children with all the details.

The children looked at me with admiration and envy, but my heart felt bitter.

"Dinner's ready! Yara, Simon's here."

I was caught off guard by Olivia's words, and then I saw Simon walk in with a smile.

He seemed a little thinner, but still as handsome as ever. He was like the sun in the orphanage, always the brightest and warmest one.

"I heard from Olivia that you were here. How have you been? It's been a while."

Simon smiled at me. I looked at him, familiar and yet distant, and I could almost hear him say "I've missed you" in a soft tone, but he didn't.

He already knew about my engagement to Miles.

I lowered my head. "Yeah, just came to see Olivia."

During dinner, Olivia and Simon both kept piling food onto my plate. Looking around, the table was full of all my favorite dishes.

As I ate the familiar food, my eyes started to sting. I didn't know how long it had been since I had felt this warm atmosphere.

At the Lane family's table, everyone had their own plate. My parents and Marcos sat at one end of the table, while I sat at the other.

They laughed and chatted, their atmosphere warm and harmonious.

I felt like a clown, watching them with envy, yet firmly kept outside their circle.