Chapter 3 [Wren's POV]

Thanks to the "library," I managed to push down some of my fear of Cole. Rosa, the housekeeper, took my hand and led me into the playroom.

My eyes went wide.

The playroom was four times the size of my bedroom. There were climbing frames, slides, swings—even a zip line.

But none of that caught my attention.

The entire opposite wall, from floor to ceiling, was lined with bookshelves packed tight with books. Just like in the movies, there was even a rolling ladder leaning against it for reaching the top shelves.

"Wow."

A small gasp escaped my lips.

In front of the shelves sat a giant round bean bag, big enough to fit three adults lying down.

For the first time since this bizarre "playdate" began, I felt the tiniest hint of a smile.

Cole launched himself onto the zip line seat and whooshed across the room. I kept my distance, edging along the wall toward the books.

He bounced around the play equipment like a flying squirrel. I burrowed into the bean bag and buried my nose in a book.

Same room, separate worlds. I felt myself relax, even forgot this was Cole's territory, and lost myself in the pages.

This was my favorite state of being—someone nearby, but that someone leaving me alone.

There was something wrong with me. One-on-one conversation made my tongue tie itself in knots, my face burn, made me wish I could vanish on the spot. But as long as no one forced me to speak, I could stay in a room all day, quiet and content, bothering no one and unbothered.

Mom called it "having no backbone." Dad called it "preferring peace and quiet."

I thought Dad was right. Unfortunately, Mom was the one in charge at home.

I tunneled deeper into my book. In the story, two children were rowing a boat into sea fog. I tensed up for them, my fingers gripping the pages tight.

I don't know how much time passed.

"Can you even talk?"

The sudden question made me jerk my head up. The moment I met those blue-gray eyes, I quickly dropped my gaze and nodded.

"...Yes."

End of conversation.

Cole seemed to lose interest in me again and ran toward the climbing frame. I exhaled in relief and went back to reading. That is, until a dull thud followed by a grunt made me look up.

Cole was lying under the monkey bars. The structure was pretty high—he must have fallen from the top.

I watched in surprise as he rolled to his feet and climbed right back up.

The horizontal bars were unevenly spaced, and right in the middle was a rotating handle. It looked difficult.

Cole, with his long arms, swung across smoothly and grabbed the rotating handle. He pumped his legs back and forth, and the handle creaked as it spun halfway around.

The arm gripping the handle stretched out straight. The next bar was still several inches beyond his fingertips. He swung his body back and forth, then decisively let go and jumped.

Watching from the side, I couldn't hold back a small "Ah."

Sure enough, his fingers grazed the bar and slipped. Thud—down he went again.

"Ugh."

A short grunt, then silence in the room.

Cole, sprawled out on the thick mat, punched it once with his fist. Then, gritting his teeth, he shot upright.

The moment I met his eyes, I immediately looked down. From the corner of my eye, I saw him brush off his clothes, stand up, and climb back toward the monkey bars.

"Clang. Mutter. Thud. Grunt."

The sequence repeated over and over. I couldn't suppress my curiosity any longer and lifted my head again.

Doesn't that hurt?

I wondered how long it would take before he gave up.

Noticing me watching, he shouted defiantly:

"I can do it!"

I flinched, then nodded like a parrot echoing words.

"Yeah. You can do it."

I didn't actually think he could. That handle was so far away, just watching made my hands ache in sympathy.

But I didn't dare say "you can't." Who knows if he'd get angry again.

Besides, watching him fall again and again, then climb back up each time, stirred something strange in me. A bit of admiration, a bit of amusement, and a little bit of... worry.

I quietly set the book on my lap, my eyes following him. I realized I wasn't reading anymore—I was watching him.

That was rare. Usually, nothing could pull me out of a book.

Cole, who had just stumbled back to his feet, climbed up again. Then he ordered me:

"You. Watch me properly. Stop reading."

"...Okay," I said softly.

Under my gaze, Cole swung back to the rotating handle. He grabbed it, legs together, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, cutting through the air. Then he extended his arm and jumped hard.

Thwack—the sound of palm meeting metal. Cole barely caught it. Then he let out a roar like a little beast.

"Yeah!"

"Wow."

Watching him, a pure exclamation slipped from my lips.

From there, it got easier. Cole swung hand over hand, and in the blink of an eye reached the end. He let go, landed with a tap, and lifted his chin triumphantly.

Making sure I'd seen, he commanded again:

"I did it! Clap!"

I obeyed, my small hands going clap-clap-clap.

Cole, who had been scarier than midnight ghosts or horned monsters, somehow looked dazzling as an angel when he smiled.

Watching him wobble toward the bookshelf, I quickly ducked my head and held the book up to my nose like a shield.

I peeked over the top as Cole stood before the bookshelf, his fingers skimming across a row of spines as he paced back and forth.

He stopped in the middle and pulled out a thick chapter book. Then he walked over and stood in front of me, tapping the bean bag with his toe.

"You. Can you really read chapter books?"

"...Yeah."

I answered hesitantly, and he thrust the book at me.

"Then read this one. Out loud."

He'd handed me Seven Summers in Pirate Bay. I'd flipped through a few chapters at the library once, but closed it because it was too scary. But compared to Cole, the book wasn't scary at all.

Taking the book, I slowly began to read.

At first my voice was tiny, like a mosquito's hum. I wasn't used to reading aloud to others. My own voice sounded too loud even to my own ears.

"Louder," Cole frowned. "Can't hear you."

I raised my volume a little. Still shaky.

He didn't complain again. He just stood there, staring at me, until I found my rhythm. Only then did he turn and walk away.

After standing and listening in front of me for a while, Cole hopped onto the wide windowsill and sat dangling his legs, looking outside.

Strange. Passages that had seemed frightening when I read them alone didn't scare me at all when I read them aloud today.

Maybe it was because there was something in the room more distracting than the sea monsters in the story.

He sat on the windowsill, backlit, his hair lifting slightly in the breeze. He wasn't looking at me, but I knew—he was listening.

That was the first time I discovered what it felt like to be heard.

At home, no one ever listened when I read. Mom found it annoying, and Dad came home from work too tired to do anything but sleep. I was always alone, reading stories to myself under the covers with a flashlight.

But now, someone sat on the windowsill, pretending not to listen while catching every word.

When I reached the part where the two children got lost in the sea fog, my voice unconsciously softened.

Cole on the windowsill suddenly spoke. "What happens next?"

I looked up. "What?"

"Do they get out?" He was still looking out the window, but his jaw was tight. "Those two kids. The ones trapped in the fog."

So he really had been listening. Hadn't missed a single word.

The fear inside me melted a little more.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I only just got to this part too."

"Then keep reading," he commanded. "Read until they get out."

"What if they don't get out?"

Cole turned his head and frowned at me, as if I'd said something stupid.

"Then we'll switch books. Make them get out in a different one."

I froze for a moment, then couldn't help it—I laughed.

It was my first laugh since entering this room.

Cole stared at me, something strange flickering in those gray-blue eyes. He quickly looked away, but I'd seen it—the tips of his ears turned just a little bit red.

"What's so funny?" he said irritably. "Keep reading."

I lowered my head and continued. The room fell quiet except for my voice and the sound of wind outside the window.

That afternoon, I read that book until the sun went down.

In the elevator going home, Mom asked if I'd had fun. I said yes.

For the first time, I wasn't lying.