Chapter 21 – Wren
I woke up to the sound of chirping birds and the gentle rustling of leaves outside. My eyelids fluttered open, then squinted slightly at the golden rays of the rising sun filtering in through the window.
Groaning, I pushed my palms to my face, shielding it from the bright light. I lay on my back and gazed blankly at the ceiling as if waiting for my brain to start up.
The scent of fresh flowers wafted through the air, mingling with the faint traces of Val’s cologne lingering on the sheets. I turned to the other side of the bed, my hand reaching for him, but he wasn’t there.
Shocked, my eyes widened, and my heart almost skipped a beat before I remembered he might just be outside. This new reality would need a little getting used to, but that shouldn’t be a problem, considering how fast I’d learned to adapt.
My situation had been moving from bad to worse for a long time now. And I’d come to the conclusion that grumbling and complaining would solve nothing. Yes, my life sucked. But at least I had air in my lungs, and I wasn’t the only one in this huge mess.
At first, I’d had my doubts about this place, but after we cleaned it up and made a home out of it, I had a change of heart instantly. Away from civilization and all the trouble in our lives, this place offered solitude, peace, and quiet. Just what I needed at this point.
I rubbed the remnants of sleep from my eyes and then got out of bed. The wooden floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I strolled over to the bathroom. There, I brushed my teeth and washed my face.
My body still ached from all the work we did yesterday. I was so tired when we finished that I fell asleep on the couch and didn’t even recall how I ended up in the bedroom. Clearly, that had been Val’s doing.
Once done, I dabbed my face with a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. My feet pounded against the staircase as I headed downstairs, hunger pangs gnawing at my stomach.
The aroma of freshly baked bread and some scrambled eggs floated through the air, invading my nostrils.
The smell was so good it made my mouth water.
What the hell was going on here? I thought Val and I were the only two people around the outskirts of town.
I thought we agreed to stay off the grid. Why did he hire a chef?
I slowed down as I neared the kitchen, sticking out my head from behind the wall for a sneak peek. There he was, standing by the stove, scrambling some mean eggs with a face towel slung over his left shoulder.
My brows arched at the unbelievable sight, and I straightened and then approached him with quiet footsteps. He was nearly unrecognizable in those casual clothes—a brown checkered shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a pair of jeans.
Who the hell was that?
“Good morning,” he greeted me without turning around, his voice rising above the sound of the sizzling eggs in the pan.
My eyes narrowed ever so slightly, eyes dropping to my feet, wondering what gave me away. I was as quiet as I could be, even though the idea wasn’t to sneak up on him. Yet, he sensed my presence. Creepy.
“Morning,” I replied, stopping by the small kitchen island.
He turned off the stove, reached for the plate rack nearby, and picked up a flat ceramic plate. I watched him wipe it with the clean white cloth slung over his shoulder.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, transferring the eggs onto the plates.
I stretched and yawned. “Surprisingly so.”
“Good.” He picked up the plate and set it on the countertop. “Hungry?”
Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Valarian Tarasov? I thought to myself, holding his gaze with a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I’m starving.”
“Help yourself.” He gestured at the plate of scrambled eggs.
“I…I didn’t know you cook,” I said, watching him strap on some kitchen gloves.
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replied and walked over to the oven, opened it, and withdrew the freshly baked bread.
“I can see that.”
Its sweet aroma filled the air, teasing my senses and raising my brows.
I picked up a fork, dug it into the plate, and tasted the eggs. My eyes closed for a moment as I chewed gently, savoring the deliciousness that exploded on my tongue. “Hmm.” It honestly tasted way better than I imagined.
“And…?”
I glanced at him, fed myself some more, and gave him a thumbs-up. “Good. Very good.”
His response was a faint grin and the look of satisfaction on his face.
“You know, I’m not sure what’s more shocking: you cooking or you dressed like that.” I gestured at his outfit on the last statement.
He glanced at his clothes. “What’s wrong with these?”
“Nothing,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m just not used to seeing you in anything other than black.”
He chuckled, scratching his forehead. “Yeah, well, get used to it.”
I didn’t reply, but the smile on my face did.
Maybe I liked it here. Maybe I liked this—whatever this was. And perhaps I was delusional, but I could swear that he seemed lighter this morning. And if I didn’t know better, I’d even say he was…happy. He wasn’t all jumpy and smiley. But he wasn’t all grumpy either.
Something was different about this man; it was a good difference.
We stared into each other’s eyes, and the longer the silence stretched, the more peaceful I felt. No spiking pulse, no racing heart, no anxiety. Nothing. Just peace.
I broke eye contact after a while, and that was when my gaze fell on a familiar object sitting on the table in the living room. My breath hitched, eyes widening in shock. “Wait a minute, is that…?” I rushed over to the table where my camera sat untouched.
My heart was filled with gladness as I reached out and picked it up, observing it from every angle. It was still in good shape.
“I was going to give it back later,” he said from behind me. “But I guess now is fine.”
I felt my tear glands charging up at his words. That was thoughtful of him, and I was grateful. This camera was like an extension of me, and I’d been away from it long enough.
“Figured you’d need it to pass the time.”
I turned around, meeting his gaze with a soft expression etched on my face. “Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded once and then returned to fixing our breakfast. I headed back to the kitchen, lifted the camera to my face, squinted an eye, and took a shot of him being domestic.
Val paused and raised his head, shock flickering in his gaze. “Wh—what’re you doing?” he stuttered.
“I’m taking a picture; it’ll last longer.” I laughed lightly, gesturing toward him. “Hey, raise your chin a little higher.”
His brows yanked up in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” He flashed a playful scowl.
“Say cheese!” The camera clicked, capturing the moment. “Perfect.” My lips curled into a self-satisfied grin.
He pointed a spatula at me. “Delete those photos.”
I let out the laugh bubbling in my throat. “I will do no such thing.”
He lowered his head, hiding the smile on his lips as I continued taking as many photos as I could. The air was filled with pure bliss and the sound of our laughs—a rare moment that was worth capturing.
It’s not every day you see a ruthless monster smile like a human, cook like one, and make you feel special.
That was how I felt in that moment: special. He went out of his way to make breakfast and still returned my camera, a gift that warmed my heart and almost brought tears to my eyes.
Val was indeed trying to make amends; that was a fact that I couldn’t ignore. He seemed like an entirely different person now, a better version of the man he used to be. He smiled more often, not too wide but authentic enough to lure me in.
***
After breakfast that morning, I stood by the window, watching him get all handy outside. Beneath the canopy of trees, he set a log on the chopping block, holding an ax firmly in his right hand.
Seconds later, the ax came down in a clean, heavy arc, and the strike split the wood with a crack that echoed through the clearing. He repeated the process with other logs, splitting wood with expert precision over and over again.
He’d been doing that for about an hour now, and from the inside the house, I was busy with my camera. I took photos of him doing the hard work, my camera lens capturing the moment: the strained muscles, the splitting of wood, and the swinging of the ax.
He stole a glance in my direction and paused, his eyes meeting mine. I beamed a smile, slightly waving at him as if to say, Well done.
He didn’t wave back, just nodded once and returned to chopping wood.
Bored out of my mind, I stepped out of the house to take pictures of Mother Nature for my outdoor collection. The smell of damp earth and pine filled the air as I descended the short steps at the entrance.
“What’re you doing?” He stopped working and faced me.
“Relax,” I said, walking along the gravel path that wound away from the porch. “I just wanna take this for a spin.” I raised the camera, giving it a little wave.
“Don’t wander too far.”
“Yeah, yeah. Got it, Grandpa,” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
I knew he hated it when I called him that, and I liked to taunt him with it.
“Be careful. There are snakes in the trees,” he said, and went back to work.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not climbing one.”
As promised, I didn’t wander off—in fact, I stayed within his sight. Besides, there was enough nature to capture around there anyway. So why go too far?
I started with the little things—drops of water caught in the veins of fallen leaves and patches of moss clinging to damp stone. It felt really good doing this again, and I felt so alive.
The bushes rustled, and my eyes fell on a nearby squirrel darting across the path. It paused, its tiny hands gripping a nut as it stared right at me.
“Hey, buddy,” I whispered, capturing it mid-pose.
I took three photos of it before it scurried off into the bushes. I straightened, studying the images I’d taken so far, when a twig snapped beneath a boot and I heard his voice.