The Stranger's Shelter!

Isla’s POV

A soft light filtered through my eyelids, waking me slowly. I blinked, trying to focus as my surroundings came into view. My breath hitched. I wasn’t on a park bench anymore. I was lying on an enormous bed in a room unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The ceiling stretched high above, with intricate chandeliers casting a warm glow across the spacious room. Rich, dark wood furnishings lined the walls, and the bed I lay on was draped with velvet blankets, impossibly soft against my skin.

Panic jolted through me as I looked around, and my eyes landed on a man standing at my bedside. He was older, perhaps in his fifties, with a face etched with the kind of wisdom that only comes from years of experience. Cradled in his arms was a small, dark-haired toddler who looked barely a year old.

The man offered me a gentle smile. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft yet deep.

I stared at him, confusion mingling with a rising sense of fear. My throat felt tight as I forced out a response. “W-Where am I?” My voice sounded small in the cavernous room, echoing slightly against the marble walls.

“I apologize for last night,” he said. “We hit you with our car.” His tone was full of regret, and I could see a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes.

That’s when I noticed the men behind him—three of them, all dressed in crisp black suits, with ties perfectly knotted at their necks. They stood straight and serious, like soldiers or… bodyguards. Their expressions were unreadable, but their presence alone was intimidating.

“I-I’m fine,” I stammered, forcing myself to sit up, though my legs felt weak and unsteady beneath me. Every inch of me ached from the accident, but I was too overwhelmed to think about the pain. All I wanted was to get out of there.

“Let us take you home,” the man said again, his tone kind but commanding.

I shook my head quickly. “N-No, it’s fine… uncle.” I wasn’t sure what else to call him, but he looked like he belonged to a world far above mine, someone I could only address with respect.

The man raised an eyebrow, as if assessing me, then asked, “Where were you going with your backpack in the middle of the night?” His question was gentle, but his gaze was piercing, as though he could see right through me.

I lowered my eyes, a wave of shame washing over me. Where was I going? The truth was, I didn’t know.

“And where will you go now?” he pressed, his tone softening.

Silence filled the room as I clenched my fists, unable to hold back the tears that spilled down my cheeks. I tried to hide them, bowing my head so he couldn’t see just how hopeless I felt.

Finally, I spoke in barely more than a whisper. “I… I have nowhere to go. I’m… homeless. I lost my parents. I don’t have anyone left.” The words hurt as they left my mouth, but the weight of them felt all too real.

The man’s expression softened, and I saw a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. But before he could respond, the child in his arms began to whimper, his tiny face scrunching up as he started to cry. The man shifted the baby, trying to soothe him, but the little one’s cries only grew louder.

I watched the man’s attempts with a pang of curiosity. “Can I…?” I asked hesitantly, holding my arms out toward the baby.

He hesitated, glancing down at me, but after a moment, he nodded and carefully handed the child over. As soon as I cradled him in my arms, the baby’s cries quieted, and his big, curious eyes focused on my face. He had chubby cheeks and a small tuft of dark hair, and he looked at me with a look of fascination that made my heart melt.

“There, there,” I cooed softly, bouncing him gently. His tiny hand reached up and clutched my finger, his wide-eyed gaze fixed on mine. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and I found myself smiling back, lost in the innocence of his gaze.

The world around me—the men in suits, the lavish room, even my own worries—faded away for a moment as I focused on the baby in my arms. For just a second, I felt warmth, something I hadn’t felt in so long. It was like a glimpse of a life I’d almost forgotten existed.

The man watched us, his expression a mix of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite place. “You’re good with him,” he said, almost to himself.

I looked up, pulling myself back to reality. “I-I’ve always liked children,” I said softly, brushing a finger gently across the baby’s cheek. “They… make you forget things, even if just for a moment.”

The man nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Well, it seems he likes you, too.” He paused, then added, “Would you like to stay here for a while, Isla?”