A PLACE THAT SLOWLY BECAME HOME
1176 Words
"Amara, I have always been proud of you."
Mr. Zim's voice carried across the line, deep and steady, wrapped in a tenderness that had never faded with time or distance. Even through the phone, it grounded Amelia, as if she were once again a child sitting at her father's side, listening to his calm assurances while the world felt uncertain.
"Your mother… and especially your Grandmother," he continued, his tone softening further, "they must be truly happy and proud of you as well."
Amelia's throat tightened.
Her fingers curled slightly around the phone as her gaze drifted to the window, where the afternoon light spilled across the floor. The reflection blurred faintly as moisture gathered in her eyes.
"I hope Grandma is at peace now," Amelia said quietly. Her voice trembled just enough to betray the sorrow she usually kept locked away. "I hope she knows… I didn't forget her. Not for a single day."
There was a pause on the other end — not silence, but understanding.
"I'm certain she does," Mr. Zim replied with conviction. "She's watching over you. She knows the effort you put into reclaiming the necklace — not for yourself, but for her… for the family."
Amelia inhaled slowly, pressing her lips together to steady herself. The image of the Imperial Necklace flashed through her mind — the rubies glowing like embers, heavy with history, memory, and promise.
"Thank you, Dad," she said softly. Then, after a brief hesitation, she added, "I'm moving in with Kendrick. I'll only pack my important things. Can you have someone take care of the rest?"
A low chuckle sounded from the other end. "You don't need to worry about trivial matters. Dad will handle everything for you."
Relief washed through her.
She hesitated again, her fingers tightening faintly. "Um… Dad. If someone looks into my information… everything is still the same, right?"
"Yes," Mr. Zim confirmed immediately. Then, more gently, he asked, "But don't you want Kendrick to know who you truly are?"
Amelia closed her eyes for a brief moment.
"I do," she admitted honestly. "But not yet. I want to wait… for the right moment. Not now."
"Alright," her father said without hesitation. "Whatever you decide, you know your mother, and I will support you."
Warmth flooded Amelia's chest.
"Thanks, Dad. Please tell Mom I called… and that I love you both."
"Take care, Amara," Mr. Zim replied, his voice firm but affectionate. "Call me anytime if you need anything."
"I know. Bye, Dad."
The call ended, but the sense of reassurance lingered, wrapping around her heart like a quiet promise.
Not long after, the sound of orderly footsteps echoed outside.
Alu returned with a small team of nannies and a professional moving crew. Their efficiency was impeccable — swift, silent, and respectful. Boxes were packed with care, labeled neatly, and each item handled as though it were precious.
Amelia watched in mild surprise as the work wrapped up far sooner than she'd expected.
"Alu," she said gently, "let's go home. Please inform Kendrick that he doesn't need to pick me up."
"Yes, Madam," Alu replied smoothly, already dialing his phone.
The word Madam still felt strange in her ears — unfamiliar, yet oddly reassuring.
Home - Yang's Mansion
When the car finally came to a stop, Amelia felt it immediately.
This place… was different.
"Young Madam," Alu said as he opened the door, "this is Mr. Yang's main residence. You will be staying here from now on."
Her heart skipped.
Amelia stepped out slowly, eyes lifting to take in the grand estate. The architecture was stately, dignified, steeped in history rather than flashy extravagance. It wasn't intimidating — it was imposing in a way that spoke of legacy.
"Thank you," she murmured, following Alu inside.
An elderly butler greeted her at the entrance with a respectful bow. After a brief introduction, Alu departed, leaving Amelia in the household's care.
The butler immediately instructed the nannies to begin unpacking.
"I can do it myself," Amelia protested lightly.
But the nannies smiled apologetically, unwavering.
In the end, she sighed and relented.
The walk-in closet stole her breath.
Racks upon racks stretched before her — dresses, coats, blouses, shoes, handbags — all pristine, meticulously arranged. Everything Kendrick had purchased yesterday was already here, perfectly sorted by color and style.
Her lips parted slightly.
Back in the bedroom, she noticed a brand-new dresser filled with luxury skincare products, makeup palettes, and perfumes — all untouched, gleaming beneath the lights.
Her brows knit together.
'I don't use most of these…' she thought, a twinge of guilt surfacing. 'They'll only go to waste.'
Rather than feeling spoiled, she felt… unsettled.
'I need to tell him,' she resolved. 'This is too much.'
A knock sounded.
"Madam, the servants have finished unpacking your belongings," the butler said respectfully. "Do you need anything else arranged?"
Amelia blinked. "Where did they put my things?"
"They are in the adjoining room. The Young Master instructed that they be connected to your closet by tomorrow."
"…Huh?" Amelia's eyes widened. "May I see it?"
"This way, Young Madam."
She followed him — and gasped.
The adjacent room was already fully prepared. Newly installed shelves lined the walls, filled with her clothes, bags, and shoes, carefully arranged as though someone had studied her habits and preferences.
Her heart squeezed.
'Kendrick… how did you manage all this in one day?'
Unbeknownst to her, Alu had indeed worked through the night, coordinating teams across the city without rest.
"Where are my books?" Amelia asked softly.
"They are in the Young Master's study. This way, please."
The doors opened onto a vast, masculine space — dark wood, leather chairs, shelves filled with history and strategy. The scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
Her gaze landed on the desk.
Or rather — desks.
Kendrick's large, commanding workspace had been shifted slightly. Beside it stood a second desk — smaller, elegant, clearly prepared just for her.
Her breath caught.
'He made space for me…'
Tears prickled at her eyes before she could stop them. She hugged herself, warmth flooding her chest.
"Your books are here," the butler explained gently. "Smaller items are in your drawers."
"Thank you," Amelia whispered. Then she hesitated. "Does Kendrick stay here often?"
"He spends most evenings and weekends here."
That knowledge settled something deep inside her.
She turned and smiled. "Uncle… how should I address you?"
The elderly butler's eyes softened instantly. "I am Muchen. The Young Master calls me Uncle Mu. You may do the same."
"Uncle Mu," Amelia repeated, her voice sincere. "Thank you for everything. I'm very pleased."
She paused, then added softly, "Could you help me with something?"
"Of course, Young Madam."
Amelia gestured toward the bedroom. "I don't wear makeup, and I'm allergic to most perfumes. The skincare products… I'll keep a few. But the rest — please help me return them. They're unopened. I don't want them wasted."
Uncle Mu bowed slightly. "I will need the Young Master's permission."
"I understand," Amelia replied easily. "I'll tell him tonight."
- Writer
