The strange feeling

The house was quiet again.

It always was.

Nothing had changed. The same walls, the same silence, the same distant voices behind closed doors.

And yet—

something felt… different.

Anastasia/Anna lay awake longer than usual that night, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as shadows shifted faintly above her. Sleep didn’t come easily. It rarely did.

But tonight, it wasn’t the silence keeping her awake.

It was something else.

Something small.

Something she didn’t understand.

Her fingers moved slightly, brushing against the sleeve of her dress—the same place he had adjusted earlier.

It had been nothing.

A simple gesture.

Meaningless.

At least, it should have been.

And yet…

her thoughts kept returning to it.

The way he had looked at her.

Not warmly. Not coldly.

Just… as if she existed.

Ana turned onto her side, pulling the blanket closer without really feeling it.

Why did that matter?

She had been seen before. People looked at her all the time.

But this—

this felt different.

Her chest tightened slightly, not in pain, but in something unfamiliar. Something she couldn’t quite name.

Confusion, maybe.

Or something close to it.

She didn’t like it.

And yet, she didn’t push it away either.

Her parents had given her everything she needed.

A home. A name. A life.

But not this.

Not whatever this was.

Ana closed her eyes slowly.

It didn’t make sense.

It was nothing.

Just a moment.

Just a passing thing.

And yet—

She couldn’t seem to let it go.

The next morning—

The house was quite as usual,

same quiet walls, with some distant voices downstairs.

She felt the sun's warmth as she woke up,

Sitting up in her bed as she glanced out the window—

The sun shining brighter than usual.

Or that's what it seems to her.

She got out of her bed and into the washroom to get ready for school.

After she got ready she glanced in the mirror at her reflection—a bit longer than usual.

She got downstairs for breakfast.

Her dad had already left for work as she sits alone on the table. Her servants serving her with food.

Her mom got out of her room, in a lavish suit, talking to someone on her phone while adjusting her wristwatch.

She went outside without even caring to look at Ana or wave at her.

Ana was already used to all these things.

Her parents barely had the time to even look at her, let alone care for her.

She learned to not mind it and do just as told to.

After her breakfast she went outside, A big black fancy car parked right outside with her driver waiting in it for her.

Her servants guided her in.

It was the daily life of Ana, having breakfast alone, leaving for school with the driver, and be alone even after school.

Few days passed by as she continued her daily life.

The house felt the same.

Still. Polished. Quiet.

But tonight, the silence didn’t settle the same way it used to.

Anna sat at the dining table, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze lowered as always. The soft clink of cutlery filled the space, measured and distant.

Across from her, her parents spoke in calm, controlled tones.

And beside her father—

him.

Sebastian.

He hadn’t said much since he arrived. He rarely did. But his presence carried through the room anyway, steady and unmoving.

Anna didn’t look at him.

Not directly.

But she was aware of him.

More than she should have been.

It happened over something small.

It always did.

Her fork slipped slightly against the plate, the sound faint but sharp enough to cut through the quiet.

Her father’s voice followed immediately.

“Anastasia.”

She froze.

“Pay attention.”

“I am,” she said softly, barely above a whisper.

The wrong answer.

His expression tightened, irritation surfacing too quickly.

“Then act like it,” he said, his tone sharper now. “You sit here every day and still manage to be careless.”

Ana's fingers tightened around the fork.

“I’m sorry.”

But it wasn’t enough.

It never really was.

“You should learn to behave properly at the table,” he continued, his voice rising just slightly. “You’re not a child anymore.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

She didn’t respond this time.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t look up.

The silence stretched—

until it broke.

“That’s enough.”

The voice was calm.

Not loud. Not forceful.

But it cut through everything.

Her father paused, his gaze shifting.

Sebastian hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t moved much either.

He simply looked at him.

“She is still a child,” he added, just as evenly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

The air felt different.

Tighter.

Her father let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly.

“doesn't matters,” he said, dismissing it. “She needs to learn.”

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately.

His gaze shifted, briefly—toward her.

Not lingering.

Just enough.

And then he said nothing more.

But the silence that followed wasn’t the same as before.

The dinner ended soon after.

Quietly. As always.

Chairs moved. Voices lowered. The moment passed as if it had never existed.

Anna stood from her seat, her movements careful, controlled.

She left before anyone could say anything.

Not that they would have.

The hallway felt colder.

Or maybe it was just her.

She walked without thinking, her steps light against the marble floor, until the sounds behind her disappeared completely.

Only then did she stop.

Her hands trembled slightly.

She pressed them together, trying to still them.

It didn’t work.

Her chest felt tight.

Too tight.

She didn’t understand why.

It had been nothing.

Just words.

Just another evening.

So why—

Her breath caught.

And then it broke.

Quietly.

Not loud.

Not messy.

Just a small, unsteady release of something she had been holding in for far too long.

She lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly as she tried to stay silent.

Like she always did.

“Anastasia.”

She stilled.

The voice was familiar now.

She didn’t turn immediately.

But she knew.

Footsteps approached. Slow. Measured.

And then he was there.

Not too close.

Not distant either.

Just… there.

“You left early.”

It wasn’t a question.

She wiped her face quickly, though it didn’t help much.

“I’m fine,” she said.

A habit.

Sebastian watched her for a moment.

Then, without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief.

He held it out to her.

She hesitated—

just for a second—

before taking it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her voice was smaller than usual.

He didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he lowered himself slightly—just enough to meet her at eye level.

Not touching.

Not intruding.

Just… present.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The words were simple.

Calm.

Certain.

Ana blinked, her fingers tightening slightly around the fabric in her hands.

No one had ever said that to her before.

Not like this.

She didn’t know what to do with it.

So she said nothing.

Sebastian straightened again after a moment.

His gaze lingered briefly—just enough to make sure she had steadied.

Then—

“Go on,” he said.

The same as before.

A quiet dismissal.

But not cold.

Never cold.

That night, the house returned to its usual silence.

Unchanged.

Unmoving.

But Anna didn’t sleep.

She lay awake, her eyes open in the darkness, her thoughts drifting back to the same moment again and again.

Not the words.

Not her father’s voice.

But his.

"She is still a child."

It echoed quietly in her mind.

Over and over.

She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket closer.

Why did it matter?

It shouldn’t have.

It should have meant nothing.

It was nothing.

A passing moment. A few simple words.

And yet—

in the quiet of the night,

with the house returned to its usual stillness,

it remained.

she couldn’t quite understand it.

It wasn’t the words.

Not the moment.

Not even him.

Just…

something.

Something unfamiliar.

Something quiet.

Something that stayed long after everything else had faded.

A strange feeling.

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