Unloved Unclaimed Unbound

Chapter Twelve – Serenya

I couldn’t sleep, and now I'm up super early already dressed for the day. I just need to tie my shoes. I’m staring at the journal that Dr. Hale gave me. It still sits on the corner of the desk untouched since I brought it back with me from our session. I look away to finish tying my shoes, stand up from my bed and walk over to my desk. I pick up the journal, turn it around in my hand and flip through the pages.

I tried to have a journal once. Linda found it. She made me feel like s**t for having it, for writing down my thoughts. How those thoughts betrayed my family. I remember telling her that those thoughts were all true, that they did nothing to make me feel like I was part of the family, that the only person that included me and loved me was Kaelith. And up until that point, I really had hoped that I could prove to them that I was their daughter, that I was part of the family. But Linda, she shown me that no matter what I did or didn’t do, she nor Glen would accept me, because the backhanded slap that she delivered to me was so painful.

That night I heard Glen yelled at Linda for laying a hand on me. I couldn’t bring myself to care that Glen was possible defending me. And I’m glad I didn’t because right after he said those words, “You should’ve kept your hands to yourself, Linda. We do not need to damage her. The girl needs to understand her role in this family. Her duty.” When I turned sixteen that December, the spring semester they sent me to this school in Tennessee.

I set the journal back down and grab my hoodie. I smelled cinnamon and coffee drifting from the kitchen. It’s a bit early for the kitchen staff, it 4:30 am, they have a simple breakfast ready 6:30 am. I put my hoodie on as I wonder though the halls, down the stairs through the dining room and into the kitchen. Elyria and Isolde are standing at the island which bowls and ingredients scattered about. They were giggling, I put my hands in my hoodie pocket. I smile and clear my throat. Both girls still and turn around.

“You aren’t supposed to be up yet!” Isolde says with wide eyes.

“You scared us Serenya!” Elyria says clutching her heart.

“Why am I not supposed to be up yet?” I ask, half-smiling. “Sorry, not sorry.”

Isolde bounces on her feet. “It’s Daddy’s birthday! We’re making breakfast before he wakes up.”

My chest tightens—birthdays have always been a performance at my parent’s house. Especially for Kaelith being the primary focus for our birthday. What the sisters were doing. This felt real. This was genuine. “Oh,” I murmur softly. “Can I help?”

Elyria hesitates for a moment, quite frankly I do to, because I said that without thinking. But she slides a mixing bowl toward me. “You can help by cooking them, if you don’t burn them.”

I walk to them rolling up my hoodie and wash my hands. As I dry my hands I ask, “If you are making pancakes, why does the whole place smell like cinnamon?”

The sisters look at me with pleased smiles. “Cinnamon roll pancakes!”

Oh boy.

--

I only burned the first couple pancakes. I’m not sure where they found this recipe, but even the burnt pancakes tasted really good with icing. I helped them set the table and arrange the plates of pancakes, the icing, fruit, toppings, and the syrup.

I straightened. “Do you think it is necessary to have icing and syrup?”

Isolde happily says. “Of course!”

“You’re just jonesing for a cavity, aren’t you?” Elyria asks her, clearly amused.

“Well, I haven’t had one yet! Perfect teeth report at the last exam and cleaning!” Isolde says proudly.

“Your baby teeth would beg to differ.” Elyria states laughing.

Isolde loses some of her joy. “It doesn’t count if I was too young to remember.”

“What do we have here?”

Elyria, Isolde and I turned around to see Mr. Dravenholt in the doorway of the dining room. His eyes bright filled with mirth. I couldn’t help but feel happy.

Isolde squealed, “Happy Birthday Day Daddy!”

Elyria echoed her sister, without the squeal.

“Happy Birthday Mr. Dravenholt.” I said with a small smile and nod as I watched him give his daughters hugs.

Mr. Dravenholt chuckles—a genuine low sound. “You three planned this?” His gaze moves from the tops of the sister’s heads to me, polite and curious.

“They did the planning,” I admit, looking away and rubbing the back of my neck. “I just cooked the pancakes. And possibly burned a couple.”

“She burned two.” Isolde giggles, taking her seat.

“Iz, a couple means two.” Elyria tells her sister, taking her seat as well.

“At least I didn’t set off the smoke detector,” I say quietly.

He chuckles again, settling into his chair. “That’s the best kind of birthday breakfast—made enthusiasm and minor chaos.”

Elyria places a plate stacked with pancakes in front of her father. In the center was a single candle, which she lights before saying, “Make a wish Daddy.”

Mr. Draveholt pauses, the faintest change of emotion in his eyes. “I do believe that my wish has already come true,” he says, looking at his daughters, then—a gentle nod toward me.

I smile, uncertain what to say, but the warmth that spreads through me is quiet, simple and unguarded—nothing like this happened with my parents growing up.

--

The day went by in a blur—lectures, worksheets and a lukewarm lunch I barely touched. I noticed that Holt wasn’t here between classes when I passed his teacher’s aide deck, but I didn’t dwell on it. Everyone deserves a day off.

By the time the final bell rang, the autumn light was already fading into the gold of early evening. Jakob idled near the front gates today, the car engine humming softly. When I slid into the passenger seat I waited until he sat in the driver’s seat, I asked, “Could we stop somewhere first? Just... quick?”

Jakob gave a small nod. “Of course, Miss Serenyra.”

We stopped at a local boutique that sat between a florist and a bookstore—the kind of place that smelled faintly of cedar and polished wood. I’m going to have to remember to visit the bookstore at a later date. The price tags on most things made my heart sink, but I still combed through the displays carefully.

The something caught my eye. A pair of silver cuff links, inset with polished deep green stones that shimmered faintly under the shop’s lights. They reminded me of calm forests. This feels... right.

--

That evening, after dinner, the estate was quiet—the kind of comfortable quiet. I lingered outside of Mr. Dravenholt’s study for a moment, fidgeting with the small gift before knocking lightly.

“Come in,” came his muffled voice.

As I stepped in, he looked up from the papers on his desk, glasses perched low on his nose. “Serenya,” his features softened. “Can I help you with something?”

“Actually,” I said as I approached his desk, “I didn’t have much, but I wanted to give you something for your birthday.” I place the gift box in front of him.

Mr. Dravenholt lifts his brows slightly as he opens the box. His eyes fall on the cuff links. For a long moment, he simply studied them. I started to think I messed up, I got him the wrong gift. Then he smiled slowly. “Malachite,” he said quietly.

I blinked. “Sorry? Bless you?”

He chuckled, “No, the stone.” Turning one of the cuff links between his fingers. “Malachite represents protection, transformation and balance. It absorbs negative energy and fosters emotional healing. My wife used to say it keeps the soul honest.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly. “Oh. I... didn’t know. I just...They felt right. Like they fit your... um—” I gestured vaguely at his desk and him. “your whole aesthetic.”

He stared at me for a heartbeat—and then a deep, warm laugh rumbled out of him. “Well, Miss Serenya,” he said, setting the cuff link carefully back into the gift box. “I daresay you’ve just raised the bar for birthday gifts. Thank you.”

“I don’t know, birthday cinnamon roll pancakes were pretty top tier.” my cheeks flush, “But you are welcome, sir.”

I turned to leave, his voice stopping me as I reached the door, softer than a moment ago. “Serenya... sometimes the things we’re drawn to have meaning long before we understand why.”