*** (A couple of days later.)
Stepping into the threshold of my home, I paused to listen for Mother, and let out a small sigh of relief. Even though this was my home, a place where I could be myself, I've avoided places that were frequented by Mother, like her office, the side room where she brought ladies to have tea, and the living room where she and Father had random movie nights.
She was in good health, her dark blue eyes were alive, her brown hair was always silky. Her cheekbones weren't as dominant like three years ago, but even in those smiles and those small praises she told to the ladies, I could tell the hint of disappointment.
"Lady Rebecca." Jennifer greeted, patting my sides, forcing me to empty my pockets that had my phone, a small knife, and a fidget spinner that I bought on impulse. My sword was strapped at my waist was I wore a pair of jeans and a nice blouse, an outfit that I wore daily.
