CHAPTER |6
1234 Words
Amarahh’s POV
By evening, I was already learning that this house never stayed quiet for long. I had barely arranged the children's books in the small reading area when voices reached me from down the hall.
At first, I tried to ignore it.
Then the sound became louder. Someone in the kitchen was clearly upset. I walked carefully toward the kitchen, slowing near the doorway before stepping inside.
The chef stood near the counter with two kitchen assistants, his apron tied too tightly around his waist, his face full of frustration.
"I am telling you, that girl rejects everything," he said loudly. "Yesterday it was rice, before that it was pasta. Today she looked at grilled chicken like I offended her."
One of the assistants laughed quietly. "Maybe she is just stubborn."
"Stubborn?" The chef replied. "She asked for toast and then did not touch it."
I cleared my throat and all three turned toward me.
The chef's expression changed immediately. "Miss Amarahh."
I gave a small smile. "I heard Ava's name."
He sighed heavily. "Please tell me if you understand what she eats because I do not."
I folded my arms lightly and leaned against the counter. Honestly, after only three days in this house, I was already certain my blood pressure had risen.
The children were not bad, but they were unpredictable. Their father was difficult to read, and the staff watched everything.
And every hour came with something new.
"I will ask her myself," I said.
The chef looked relieved. "If she gives you an answer, I will personally thank you."
"I'll try."
As I left the kitchen, I heard one of the assistants whisper, "She listens to the new nanny more than anyone."
I pretended not to hear that the hallway upstairs was quieter. I stopped outside Ava's room and knocked gently.
"Ava?"
No answer. I knocked again, still nothing. I opened the door slowly.
She was inside, sitting cross-legged on her bed, her full attention on her tablet. The light from the screen reflected on her face, and she did not even look up immediately.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "You did not answer."
"I heard you." She said without looking away.
I smiled slightly and walked closer. "You still ignored me."
That made her glance at me briefly. I sat beside her on the bed, careful not to invade her space too quickly.
For a moment neither of us spoke, then I said quietly, "Thank you for your help earlier."
She looked at me again. "For what?"
"For speaking for me in front of your dad."
She shrugged as if it meant nothing. "You were going to cry."
That surprised me enough to laugh softly. "I was not going to cry."
"You looked close."
"I was shocked."
Ava returned her eyes to the tablet."I don't like it when people leave too fast."
That sentence stayed in my chest. I looked at her carefully. There was something hidden behind her calm face, something older than eight years should carry.
I spoke gently. "You have seen many nannies leave?"
"Too many."
"And you did not like any of them?"
"They tried too hard."
I nodded slowly, then I decided to shift the mood.
"When I was your age, I did not even know what a tablet looked like."
That made her pause and she turned fully toward me now.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Why?"
"Because where I grew up, we did not have things like that."
She set the tablet aside completely now. "Where did you grow up?"
"In Alaocha."
She frowned slightly. "Where is that?"
"A small village."
"How small?"
I smiled. "Very small. If someone sneezed at one end, people at the other end would hear it by evening."
That made her laugh softly. It was the first real laugh I had heard from her.
"What was it like?"
I looked ahead for a second, choosing what to say carefully.
"It was simple: many people knew each other. Most families worked hard every day just to eat."
"You mean poor?"
"Yes."
She studied me carefully. "Did you go to school?"
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"There were days school mattered less than helping at home."
She leaned closer now, interested. "What kind of food did you eat?"
"Mostly soup, yam, and vegetables when available."
"Did you have birthdays?"
"Not like here."
"What about toys?"
I laughed softly again. "We made our own games."
She kept asking one question after another. I answered simply, carefully leaving out the parts I never wanted anyone here to know.
I did not mention running. I did not mention fear. I did not mention Casper. And I definitely did not mention that the name written in my work papers was not fully mine.
Some truths could not survive inside a house like this.
Finally, I touched her arm lightly. "Speaking of food... what would you like for dinner?"
She leaned back. "I don't know."
"The chef is struggling downstairs."
"He always does things I don't want."
"So tell me what you want."
She thought for a moment then quietly said, "Soup."
I blinked. "Soup?"
She nodded. "Real soup."
"What kind?"
"The kind that smells like home."
That answer touched me more than she probably intended.
"Alright," I said. "Soup it is."
Her eyes narrowed. "You can cook?"
"Yes."
"We'll see."
When we reached the kitchen, the chef looked offended that I had entered with purpose.
"You got an answer?"
"Soup."
He stared. "Soup?"
"Yes."
"What soup?"
"I'll make it."
The kitchen went silent and the assistants exchanged looks. The chef folded his arms. "You cook too?"
"I survived long enough to learn."
He moved aside slowly, still doubtful, I began with what was available, adjusting the ingredients carefully. Before long, Liam appeared at the doorway and he sniffed lightly.
"What is that smell?"
"Soup," Ava answered before I could.
Liam entered fully. "Can I have some too?"
Ava looked offended. "I asked first."
"You can both eat."
The staff kept watching, even the chef slowly relaxed when he saw I knew what I was doing when the bowls were served. Ava tasted first.
She looked at me then took another spoon.
Liam followed quickly. "This is good," he said.
The chef muttered quietly, "Finally."
After dinner, I helped them both brush their teeth. Liam complained that Ava squeezed too much toothpaste. Ava complained that Liam splashed water everywhere.
The usual small fights of children who clearly loved each other more than they admitted. Later, both were in Ava's room because she insisted tonight's story should happen there.
I sat between them with a storybook open. By the third page, Liam was already half asleep. By the end, he dragged himself to his room after muttering goodnight.
Ava stayed curled under her blanket. I gently patted her hair. Her eyes were almost closed. The room was quiet.
Peaceful for once.
Then the door opened, and the sound made me turn sharply.
I froze.
Aiden stood there.
Tall, silent, watching.
His face gave nothing away, but his eyes stayed fixed on me in a way that immediately made my chest tighten.
I sat up straighter. He looked at Ava, nearly asleep, then back to me. Something in his expression had changed, not anger, something sharper, suspicion.
Then he spoke finally.
"We need to talk."
His voice was cold enough to remove every comfort from the room.
- Writer
