The Room No One Entered
1141 Words
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard it again.
My little star.
Three words.
A memory.
A dream.
A trick of the wind.
I didn't know.
What I did know was that the voice had sounded real.
Too real.
When dawn finally slipped through my window, I gave up pretending to sleep and climbed out of bed.
The floorboards were cold beneath my feet.
Mara's den was quiet.
For now.
Soon Mara would be awake.
Soon patients would begin arriving.
Soon the day would start demanding pieces of me.
But for a few precious moments...
Everything was still.
I pulled on my boots and stepped outside.
The village wore a blanket of fresh snow.
Snow covered the rooftops.
Snow clung to fences.
Snow softened the world.
Even Beaumont looked peaceful beneath its white blanket.
Like all its sharp edges had disappeared.
I knew better.
The cold air stung my cheeks as I walked.
I didn't have a destination.
Not really.
My feet simply carried me along familiar paths.
Past the training grounds.
Past the well.
Past the gathering hall.
Past wolves beginning their day.
Most didn't notice me.
A few nodded politely.
One smiled.
I smiled back.
Small victories.
The packhouse stood ahead.
Large.
Silent.
The heart of Beaumont.
The place that should have felt like home.
Instead, it felt like a house I'd been allowed to live in.
Not one that had ever truly belonged to me.
I stopped at the bottom of the steps.
Something inside me tightened.
Memories drifted through my mind.
Ashley and I racing through the hallways.
Mother laughing somewhere nearby.
The Alpha smiling.
The images felt borrowed now.
Like stories someone else had told me instead of memories I'd lived.
A servant stepped through the side door carrying a basket of laundry.
She smiled politely when she saw me.
"Morning, Aria."
"Morning."
The door remained open behind her.
Just enough.
I shouldn't have gone inside.
I knew that.
Yet somehow...
I found myself climbing the steps anyway.
The packhouse welcomed me with warmth.
The familiar scent of cedarwood and burning firewood wrapped around me.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
Listening.
Voices drifted faintly from another wing.
Servants moved through the lower level carrying trays, linens, and baskets.
No one questioned why I was there.
No one asked where I was going.
That should have comforted me.
Instead...
It made something inside me ache.
Because I could walk through most of Beaumont without anyone wondering where I belonged.
Even here.
Especially here.
I moved quietly through the hallway.
Past portraits of long-dead Alphas.
Past polished tables reflecting the morning light.
Past memories that no longer felt like mine.
The farther I walked, the quieter everything became.
Until I reached the western corridor.
And stopped.
The door waited at the very end.
Closed.
Always closed.
Dust coated the handle.
No servant polished it.
No one entered.
No one spoke about it.
My mother's room.
Even thinking the words felt forbidden.
I hadn't stood this close in years.
The sight of the door stirred something deep inside me.
I remembered standing here as a little girl.
Remembered reaching for the handle.
Remembered gentle hands pulling me away.
Remembered hearing the same word every time.
"No."
The room remained locked.
The room remained silent.
The room remained untouched.
As though time itself refused to cross its threshold.
I took one slow step forward.
Then another.
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
Or maybe that was only my imagination.
My eyes settled on the brass handle.
Questions crowded my mind.
What had she kept inside?
What books had she read?
What made her laugh when no one else was around?
Did she ever stand at this very window and watch the snow fall?
Why wouldn't anyone tell me about her?
My fingers reached out, brushing the handle.
Only lightly.
The metal felt colder than winter itself.
A sharp shiver raced up my arm.
I pulled my hand back immediately.
Weird.
Very weird.
The silence deepened.
Then I noticed it.
A scent.
So faint I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it.
Lavender.
My breath caught.
The same scent from the overlook.
The same scent woven through every memory I had of my mother.
The hallway suddenly felt too small.
My heartbeat quickened.
I stepped closer.
The fragrance lingered.
Soft.
Gentle.
Almost welcoming.
Not enough to overwhelm.
Just enough to make me believe.
I should leave.
Instead...
I stayed.
Because for the first time in years...
I felt close to her.
Close to answers.
Close to something I'd been missing my entire life.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I spun around.
The Alpha stood at the end of the hallway.
Watching.
My stomach dropped.
Wonderful.
Just... wonderful.
His dark eyes moved from me...
To the door...
Then back again.
The air between us grew heavier.
Neither of us spoke.
I suddenly found the floor fascinating.
"What are you doing here?"
His voice wasn't angry.
That somehow made it worse.
I swallowed.
"I was walking."
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew how ridiculous they sounded.
We both did.
His gaze drifted back to the door.
For just a heartbeat...
Something crossed his face.
Pain.
Raw.
Unguarded.
Gone before I could fully understand it.
The sight startled me.
I'd never seen that expression on him before.
Not once.
I hesitated.
Then took a chance.
"When was the last time you went inside?"
Silence.
Heavy silence.
The kind that always followed whenever my mother became part of the conversation.
I immediately wished I could take the question back.
Then...
He answered.
"Years."
The single word stole the air from my lungs.
Because he almost never answered.
Not when it came to her.
Not when it came to anything that mattered.
I looked toward the door.
Then back at him.
"Why?"
The question came out softer than I intended.
The Alpha stared at the door for so long I thought he hadn't heard me.
His jaw tightened.
Finally...
"Some wounds don't heal..."
His voice was quieter now.
"...because we keep reopening them."
He sounded tired.
Older somehow.
For one brief moment...
He didn't look like the Alpha.
He looked like a man carrying grief that had become too heavy to put down.
The realization unsettled me.
Because it made him human.
And somehow...
That hurt more.
My eyes drifted back to the door.
The scent of lavender still lingered in the hallway.
Waiting.
Calling.
Remembering.
The Alpha stepped aside.
A silent dismissal.
The conversation was over.
Like always.
I nodded once.
Turned away.
And walked slowly back down the corridor.
Even as I left...
I could still feel it.
The room.
The questions.
The silence.
Something waited behind that door.
Not just memories.
Not just grief.
The truth.
And sooner or later...
I was going to find it.
- Writer
