Chapter 12 CHAPTER 12
Cindy jolted awake, her body snapping upright before her mind caught up. Sunlight spilled across the cramped little room through the thin, floral curtains. For a heartbeat, her chest seized with panic.
“Oh my Goddess, I’m late! Mother will kill me!”
She scrambled halfway off the mattress before the truth rushed back in. The room was not the pack house. The air didn’t carry the sharp tang of wolf pheromones or the smoke of the pack’s hearth. There were no orders to barked at her, no chores lined up to weigh on her back.
She froze, breath catching.
This wasn’t Silverpine.
It was Isabel’s apartment.
Cindy sagged back onto the mattress, her body shaking with relief and shame. Her heart, which had been racing toward another day of servitude, finally slowed. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and muttered bitterly, “Well done, Cindy. Leave it to you to still be terrified of the evil mother you’re running away from.”
A voice stirred within her mind, warm and sly.
You’re awake, Lisa said. Our young host already left for school. She was kind enough to leave breakfast and a note on the table. I’ve been dying to find out what it says, but I didn’t want to wake you up. You were smiling in your sleep. I’ve never seen that since I showed myself.
Cindy blinked. “Smiling?” Her lips twitched in disbelief. “I don’t even remember what that feels like.”
You do now, Lisa teased. And I think it has something to do with that girl. Isabel. She’s good for you.
“I don’t understand it either,” Cindy admitted softly. “I never knew I could laugh, the way I did last night. Isabel… she’s a good kid. I wonder why she’s living like this by herself.”
I’m wondering the same, Lisa said, but right now, I’m more curious about that note. So, could you get your butt up and let’s see it?
Cindy chuckled, rolling to her feet. “You’re impatient.” She stretched until her joints cracked. “But… I like talking to you like this. I’m sorry I ignored you for so long.”
No foul done, Lisa replied gently. I know you were just trying hard to fit in with those horrible Hales, even if they never deserved it. But now… the note?
Cindy padded over to the small table by the wall. A mug of cocoa sat cooling beside a plate with two small buns. A folded piece of paper lay propped against the mug. Cindy picked it up, unfolding the creased page with trembling fingers.
Hi Cindy, the note read in a looping, slightly uneven script.
“I figured you must be tired, so I didn’t wake you up. I made some hot cocoa and buns from the café (they’re probably cold by now—sorry! Warm them on the stove if you want). I’ll be back later in the afternoon to change for my shift at the café.
There’s instant noodles for lunch so don’t starve yourself.
Also, there’s a bag of clothes by the corner. They belonged to my parents. Maybe you’ll find something that fits.
Try not to get bored while I’m gone. Or tear the neighbors apart - this is the only cheap place around. Lol.”
Cindy’s lips curved without permission. The note trembled in her hands as warmth spread through her chest.
Lisa chuckled smugly. See? I told you we hit the jackpot. Not only food, but clothes, and she isn’t kicking us out yet. The goddess must be looking out for us.
Cindy whispered, “I agree. The goddess sent us to her. No way it was just a coincidence.”
She turned to the corner where a worn paper bag leaned against the wall. Kneeling, she dug through it and pulled out a pair of faded jeans, a plain white t-shirt a little too large, and a pair of old sandals. She slipped them on with careful reverence, smoothing the shirt against her torso.
Oversized or not, they were hers. Chosen by her.
She stared at herself in the cracked mirror propped against the wall, her dark hair tangled but her shoulders straighter than she remembered. “I’ve never… had choices,” she whispered. “Not even with clothes. This feels… strange.”
Lisa’s voice softened. Strange good?
Cindy nodded.
She ate the buns slowly, savoring every bite of sweetness like it was a feast. When she finished, she pulled back the curtain and looked out.
The city pulsed with life. Children in mismatched uniforms hurried past, clutching bags. Men and women streamed down the sidewalks, carrying briefcases, groceries, plastic bags. The sound of cars honking, people calling to one another, and even a stray dog barking - all of it was dizzying, overwhelming.
But to Cindy, it was magical.
She cracked the window and leaned into the sunlight. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t waiting for orders. No one was shouting at her to scrub floors or cook or stay invisible. She was free to simply watch.
Feels surreal, doesn’t it? Lisa murmured.
Cindy swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah. Surreal. Like… this is what life is supposed to feel like. Ordinary.”
They stood in silence for a while, Cindy and her wolf sharing the moment.
Eventually, Lisa teased, you know, if you had listened to me earlier, when I first showed, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up in gutters with blisters on our feet. But hey, now we have food, clothes, and even a friend. I’d say we’re doing well.
“All is well that ends well Lisa.” Cindy chuckled.
Lisa smirked, whispering back, You’re right. I’m glad you finally found the courage to leave those horrible people.
Cindy closed her eyes briefly, her heart steady. “Good morning, by the way.”
And good morning to you too, sister, Lisa replied warmly.
Cindy lingered a little longer, staring at the neat little room, the note, the empty mug cocoa, the bag of clothes - small tokens of kindness she had never been given before. But she couldn’t sit still. Even though her body still ached from the endless walking of yesterday, something inside her stirred with restless energy. She wanted - no, needed - to see the city in daylight, to taste this fragile freedom with her own steps. Slipping the worn sandals from the paper bag onto her blistered feet, Cindy drew a steadying breath and quietly slipped through the door, out into the waiting city.