Chapter Five
831 Words
“That’d be a good idea,” Rae said softly.
“Come with me,” she added, leading Cara further into the house.
The bathroom was small, barely enough for one person. Rae’s eyes flicked nervously toward Cara, wondering if the girl would recoil at the modest space after a life of luxury. Cara’s expression, however, remained neutral, and Rae let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Give me a moment; I’ll find some fresh clothes for you,” Rae said, forcing a small smile.
“Thanks,” Cara nodded, lips pressed together, stepping inside.
Rae went to Isha’s room and rifled through the clothes the girl had refused, tossing aside anything that wouldn’t fit Cara’s taller, leaner frame. She crossed the street, bought a few simple sets, and hung them neatly on a chair for Cara to wear after her bath. Then she returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
In the bathroom, Cara washed quickly and studied her reflection. Her oval face carried a delicate, almost translucent complexion. Her almond-shaped eyes were dark and mysterious as obsidian, framed by thick, fluttering lashes.
Her gaze slid to her full, red lips beneath a small, straight nose. Her expression radiated calm indifference—nonchalant and cold.
Cara’s lips curved into the faintest smile. This face—so unfamiliar, yet subtly reminiscent of her past life—lifted a weight from her chest. She tied her long hair into a high bun, exposing a pale, elegant neck, and dressed in the rough fabric Rae had provided. The coarse texture made her frown; she had to find a way to earn money—and fast.
She nearly bumped into her mother, who was walking out of the kitchen with a bowl of noodles. Rae froze, eyes scanning Cara from head to toe. Cara’s white shirt, tied casually at her hips, and simple bottoms highlighted her long, straight legs. The makeup was gone, yet she radiated effortless beauty. Even cheap clothes looked like designer labels on her.
“Mom,” Cara said, raising a brow and snapping Rae out of her daze.
“I made you noodles for dinner,” Rae said, placing the bowl on the table.
“Thank you,” Cara replied, digging in. She was starving, struggling not to eat everything at once.
“There’s more in the pot,” Rae offered gently as her daughter emptied the plate in no time.
“I’m full,” Cara said, smiling.
“Would you like me to take you to your room?” Rae asked.
“I’d like that.”
Rae led her to a small bedroom that had once belonged to Isha, sparsely furnished with a bed, desk, and wardrobe. The previous occupant had taken anything of value, leaving only the basics.
“I’ll get you a bedsheet and blanket,” Rae said, embarrassed by the oversight.
“Alright,” Cara smiled, watching her mother leave.
“Oh—where’s my uncle?” she asked, recalling Rae’s youngest brother, the only one who stayed close to her mother.
Rae glanced at the clock.
“He should be back soon.”
Footsteps echoed just then.
“Sister! Come, see what I’ve brought you!” Dexter’s booming voice filled the apartment.
Rae rolled her eyes, smiling apologetically at Cara, who chuckled and raised her hands in mock surrender.
“Coming,” Rae said, followed by Cara, who made herself comfortable at the dining table.
Dexter appeared, grinning widely, carrying a half-chopped barbecued duck in one hand and a massive watermelon in the other.
“Uh, Dexter?” Rae asked, eyebrows raised.
“Where else would I get meat this big?” Dexter replied, pride shining through as Rae shut the door behind him.
“It’s a gift from a good customer—he owns a barbecue store,” he added, trailing off as he noticed Cara watching with quiet amusement.
“Sister, don’t be scared. We have a burglar in our house—a bold one,” Dexter growled.
“Cara, stop teasing your uncle,” Rae said, massaging her temples.
“Hello, uncle,” Cara greeted respectfully, bowing slightly.
“Cara Smith?” Dexter asked, suspicion in his eyes.
“I’m Cara Michaels now,” she corrected smoothly.
“You’re not scheming again, are you?” he asked, stepping protectively in front of Rae.
“Uncle, I’ve made mistakes that hurt Mom. I was wrong—please forgive me,” she said, her tone steady.
Dexter hesitated, puffing out his chest, masking the faint tug of sincerity he couldn’t entirely ignore.
“Ungrateful brat! If you ever hurt my sister again, I won’t let you off,” he warned.
“How can my daughter bully me?” Rae asked with a soft laugh, nudging him toward the kitchen to wash his hands before eating.
“She was raised by the Smiths, even if she wasn’t born to them. What if she turns out worse than Isha?” Dexter muttered, following her inside.
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