Whisper on the Winds

Lily, at the tender age of twelve, was like a spring flower blossoming, carrying an innocent and lost expression when she first stepped into that foreign house. Her life's colors, textures, and even scents completely transformed. Her parents had tragically departed from this world in a stove fire, leaving her alone in that small village, cradled by loneliness. Her only sanctuary was her aunt Nora, who worked as a maid in a mansion in Istanbul. Nora had persuaded the homeowners, not without difficulty, to take Lily in. The lady of the house, citing the presence of a young man in the house, had initially argued that a young girl's presence would disrupt the peace of the house but eventually agreed to provide a home for this orphaned girl. Lily stepped into the grand foyer of the house, where a crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling and a marble staircase led to the upper floors; every corner felt as foreign, as if it had sprung from a tale. She had met her distant aunt Nora only a few times face to face. Lily knew that her aunt worked in this affluent house in Istanbul, but she had never seen that house, those walls, that ceiling, that life. The lady of the house, Mrs. Ashwood, rarely engaged with the servants, leaving all the household duties to Mrs. Potts, who acted much like the house steward. Mrs. Potts was the eye, the ear, and perhaps even the conscience of Mrs. Ashwood, overseeing every corner of the house. Lily's quest to find her place in this new world began in the corridors of this mysterious and foreign mansion. There was also Eliza, in her early twenties and another employee of the house, known for her fiery red hair. Lily had admired Eliza's blazing hair but was too shy to express her admiration. It took Eliza until the second week to notice Lily's presence in the house. Why would she? To Eliza, what did it matter that a snotty girl had come to the house? Her eyes were always glued to the tabloid news, living her life through the small screen of her phone. She was constantly taking selfies, texting, roaming in her self-created world. Her relationship with Mrs. Potts was like stormy seas; Mrs. Potts would constantly say, "All hands on deck but her mind somewhere else." If Eliza's mother hadn't been sick, she would have been shown the door a long time ago, only the respect for her mother kept her from being dismissed. Moreover, despite being four years younger, her eyes seemed always fixed on Brian. Such a thing couldn't be true, could it, since Brian wasn't even of age yet? However, one should not overlook Eliza's sharp and profound gaze. But Brian... Oh, Brian... The landlords' sixteen-year-old son, towering at 191 centimeters, a star player on the school basketball team, yet his heart was as hard and emotionless as a carved stone. They say a child is a mirror of the family; Brian's parents weren't known for their warmth and love either. Their affection for each other was also riddled with question marks. His father barely seemed to acknowledge his mother's existence; whispers of his affairs outside floated around. His mother, on the other hand, sought the love she couldn't get from her husband in her only son, and not receiving this love only fueled her inner storm, tying her even more tightly to her son. For her, the most perfect man in the world was her son; no one could compare to him. Nevertheless, Brian didn't consider himself worthy of anyone; at just sixteen, he had already inherited his father's pride, making him, unfortunately, quite attractive among his peers, and Brian was well aware of it. As these events unfolded, when shy, sweet, ground-gazing twelve-year-old Lily stepped into the house, a subtle yet significant change occurred in Brian Ashwood's world. He had cast a glance at Lily, longer than usual for him, which counted as a record for Brian back then. But that look carried more discomfort than admiration. Lily's inability to lift her eyes from the ground, the moth-eaten spots on her blue cardigan, the baggy pants-like clothing she wore (which Brian had never seen before, hence couldn't name), and the strands of hair shedding from her braids reaching her waist... Brian was irritated by each of these details. He asked, "Doesn't this girl have anyone?" The answer was, "No." After feeling a brief moment of sorrow, he put on his headphones and started playing Call of Duty. For Brian, with just a teaspoon of emotional depth, this might have been insignificant. However, on that first day, Lily couldn't even bring herself to meet Brian's eyes. She had caught a glimpse of him from behind when she first arrived, was struck by his height, the wave in his black hair, then pinched herself thinking, "What am I doing?" and never lifted her eyes from the ground again. That day marked the beginning for Lily; she experienced feelings of shyness, the cramps in her stomach when Brian looked at her, the blushing of her cheeks, all without knowing what love meant. She felt all this for the first time at twelve, and those feelings for Brian grew like a secret garden in her heart, blooming with every glance and gesture, but never finding a voice to express them" When Lily turned sixteen, Brian had already turned twenty, graduated from high school, sent off to America with his mother's tears, and was in his second year of university there. At eighteen, right after graduating from high school, he was 'shipped off' to America at his father's insistence, or as Brian put it. For Lily, that day was almost as heart-wrenching as the day she lost her parents in the fire. Despite the total number of words they exchanged during those two years under the same roof barely exceeding the number of fingers on one hand, it didn't lessen Lily's feelings in the slightest. Brian treated Lily as if she were just another object in the house, virtually invisible. Being invisible didn't hurt Lily; on the contrary, it served her well as she could observe Brian more comfortably. However, Lily knew her place, never once considering crossing the line or revealing her feelings, despite her young age. Of course, Brian treating her like an insect in the house contributed to this restraint, but even amid the uncontrollable emotions of adolescence, she always knew how to hold herself back when it came to Brian. This enabled her to escape even the sharp radar of Mrs. Potts until she caught Brian with the fiery red-haired Eliza. It was the eve of Brian's flight to America. Lily was wandering around the house like a stray cat, seeking ways to observe Brian, possibly for the last time. Suddenly, amidst strange noises, she saw Eliza's fiery red hair swinging as she sat up and down in someone's lap. At first, Lily didn't understand; she was about to shout, "Are you okay, Eliza?" when Brian lifted Eliza in his lap and laid her on the couch, shocking Lily. She immediately hid. She had never witnessed such a scene before and was unsure how to interpret it. "They're doing something wrong," she whispered to herself; the only thing she was sure of was that what they were doing felt wrong. She froze, unable to move. But not wanting to see, she closed her eyes tightly. "I'll just walk backward with my eyes closed and escape," she thought, but slightly bumped into the door frame. Eliza, lost in the moment, couldn't possibly hear such a sound. But Brian suddenly turned his head towards where Lily was and saw her. At that moment, it felt like time stopped for Lily; shame, anger, jealousy, all emotions seemed to entangle. In contrast, Brian seemed relieved to see Lily; he had feared it might be Mrs. Potts or his mother. Thanks to the "good" character traits inherited from his father, he continued as if nothing had happened, made a "shush" gesture with his finger to Lily, and they continued to make eye contact for a while longer. Then he winked, turned his face forward, and carried on as if nothing had happened. The moment their eye contact broke, the invisible bonds holding Lily seemed to snap. She ran with all her might, ran, ran, ran out of the house, past the pergolas, towards the woods; ran until she couldn't breathe, until her spleen burst. Perhaps if she ran fast enough, she could erase that image from her mind. That day, Lily, whose inner world had been stripped of all its colors, leaving room only for red, vowed to hate Eliza. Eliza was four years older than Brian; what kind of connection, what kind of secret did they share? If only she could decipher what had happened, she might have been able to assess the situation more accurately. If only she had someone to pour out these complex feelings to. However, asking such a question to her aunt Nora was as impossible as trying to touch the stars; their relationship was never close enough to share such profound topics. Mrs. Potts maintained the same distance. That left only the driver, Henry, and the gardener, Oliver, but Lily didn't particularly enjoy discussing such matters with men, and Aunt Nora would not approve. Lily was always reminded never to engage with men, especially not with the young son of the house; he was not her friend, after all. But if Lily wasn't Brian's friend, was Eliza his friend? If Eliza could be his friend, why couldn't Lily? With these thoughts, her hatred for Eliza flared up like a red flame. "I now hate everything that's red," she muttered, kicking a log in front of her. Her foot hurt, and a cry of pain escaped her lips. Just then, she heard Brian's voice asking, "Were you here?" Lily felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead, her muscles tensing as if she were a deer caught in the headlights. "Are you just going to stand there and not speak?" When had Lily ever been able to speak comfortably in front of Brian, and how could she now? Especially after what she had seen, in the dead of night, face to face with Brian? As Brian's eyes bore into hers, Lily's heart and mind raced. His gaze held a mixture of curiosity and something else—something she couldn't quite decipher. She had never been this close to him, never felt the weight of his presence so acutely. The moonlight painted his features, casting shadows across his chiseled jawline and unruly hair. "Are you just going to stand there and not speak?" Brian repeated, his voice low and tinged with impatience. Lily's mind raced. What could she say? How could she explain her presence in the woods at this hour? She had followed Eliza, hoping to unravel the mystery that bound her to Brian. But now, standing face to face with him, her tongue felt heavy, her thoughts a jumbled mess. "I... I was just taking a walk," Lily stammered. "Couldn't sleep." Brian's eyes narrowed. "A walk? In the middle of the night?" Lily's foot throbbed from kicking the log. She shifted her weight, trying to hide the pain. "Yes. Sometimes the moonlight soothes me." He stepped closer, and Lily's breath caught. His scent—fresh earth and something indefinable—wrapped around her. "Moonlight," he mused. "It reveals secrets, you know. Things hidden in the shadows." Lily's heart pounded. Was he talking about Eliza? About the connection they shared? She wanted to ask, to demand answers, but fear held her tongue. Brian was the son of the house, the privileged one. She was the orphaned girl, the outsider. Their worlds were galaxies apart. "Secrets," she echoed, her voice barely audible. Brian leaned in, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Some secrets are dangerous," he whispered. "And some... some can change everything." Lily felt crushed under this unbearable closeness, as every advice, every silent scream, that had seeped into her until then, whispered to her to flee. Nora had also said it; she had grown up, she had to act more maturely, more carefully. How much longer could she endure this trembling posture at Brian's ear? Amidst all these thoughts, stretched like a bow in the tension, she suddenly ran with all her strength towards the house. Brian was momentarily surprised by Lily's unexpected escape, but a faint smile appeared on his lips. "At least you're still a child," he muttered to himself. He took one last look at the moon and whistled, as if he had shed all the burdens of the world, and started walking towards his home.