Chapter 45
Anna hesitated in the doorway, her head peeking into the parlor like a cautious whisper. The room was empty, and with a quiet resolve, she slipped inside, the door creaking softly shut behind her.
For a moment, she stood frozen, her thoughts swirling in a silent debate. Then, with a deep breath, she steeled herself and took her first step forward, her determination warring with the doubts that lingered in her mind.
As she reached the door to Cressida’s room, her hand rose, hesitating in mid-air. The distance between her fingers and the door handle grew, a chasm of uncertainty yawning open.
The doubts won out, and her hand faltered, hovering just out of reach.
‘Should I do this?’
‘Should I just resign?’
Her thoughts swirled, tangling in a knot of uncertainty, before trailing off into the silence.
As she stood there, her mind went blank, frozen in indecision. Almost a minute ticked by before she half-closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled softly, steeling herself for what was to come.
Her hand rose, her knuckles hovering inches from the door, but once again, her doubts held her back, paralyzing her resolve. With a weary sigh, she turned to leave, but her feet froze as she caught sight of Cressida standing right behind her.
“Hun!” Her eyes widened in shock, and she stumbled backward, her back hitting the door.
Cressida watched her with a calm intensity, her arms crossed over her chest. She’d been standing there for a while, curious about Anna’s decision, waiting for the right moment to reveal her presence. As Anna froze, she took a step forward, her body angled slightly to the left.
“What’s going on, Anna?” She asked, her voice gentle. Before Anna could respond, she pressed on. “Do you’ve something to tell me? Something’s bothering you, right?”
Her tone shifted to a soothing melody. “I’m not familiar with you, Anna, but I’m sure this isn’t like you. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I may not be old enough to be an elder sister, but I’m old enough to be a friend—talk to me like one.”
“I–” Anna began, but Cressida cut her off with a firm yet gentle tone.
“Don’t tell me you’re okay,”
Cressida’s words hung in the air, her eyes locked on Anna’s as she proceeded. “It’s obvious you’re not. Maybe you’ve made a mistake, but piling more mistakes on top of it won’t fix anything,”
“Let’s talk about it, and find a way out.” As Cressida spoke, she reached out, her hand extending toward Anna’s shoulder. But Anna dodged aside, and Cressida’s hand fell limply to her side.
“I’m fine,” Anna insisted, her words tumbling out in a rush as she shook her head, her eyes avoiding Cressida’s gaze. “Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m fine. Thank you, ma’am. I’ll get going.”
With a hasty curtsy, she turned to flee once more, but Cressida’s firm grip on her hand halted her escape.
“Wait!” Cressida’s voice was a gentle command.
Anna let out a startled, “hum!”
Cressida released Anna’s hand and folded her arms, her eyes never leaving Anna’s face. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “It’s time to prepare dinner, and it’ll just be the two of us.”
As Cressida led the way to the kitchen, she glanced back over her shoulder to see Anna still standing in the same spot. “Why are you still standing there?” She asked. She stepped into the kitchen, her eyes flicking back to Anna. “Failure to light the stove will be...”
The uncompleted threat hung in the air as Anna hurried after Cressida, grabbing the door before it closed. She rushed past Cressida, snatching the lighter and hastening to the gas stove. Without hesitation, she lit the flame, her eyes fixed on the task at hand, oblivious to the slippery floor.
After nearly an hour of frantic activity in the kitchen, Anna moved at a frenzied pace, her face down turned as she avoided eye contact with Cressida. Her goal was to finish the tasks as quickly as possible and escape the kitchen’s oppressive atmosphere.
Meanwhile, Cressida worked to slow down the cooking process, deliberately prolonging the agony to coax Anna into breaking her silence. Her methods weren’t without discomfort for herself, but she believed it was the only way to crack Anna’s shell.
As Cressida strolled over to the left gas stove, she lifted the lid on the pot of rice simmering on medium-low heat. She inserted a spoon, scooped out a grain, and crushed it between her fingers.
“Check the stew,” she instructed Anna, who stationed herself at a distance.
Anna nodded and hastened to the other gas stove. She lifted the lid, stirred the stew until it was perfectly done, and then covered it again, hurrying back to her original spot.
Cressida added a splash of water to the rice, covered the pot, and stepped back, leaning against the central kitchen table. She picked up her phone, her fingers poised to tap the screen, but her gaze drifted back to Anna, whose mind never lost track of.
Cressida sighed. She put her phone aside and approached Anna with deliberate slowness. As she drew near, Anna’s body shuddered, and she took a fearful step back.
A fleeting urge to flee the kitchen flashed through Anna’s mind, but the weight of consequences kept her rooted until Cressida reached her side.
Cressida’s gaze lingered on Anna for a moment before she gently lifted her left hand to Anna’s shoulder. Her touch was light, as she whispered, “Anna…”
Anna didn’t respond. Instead, her shivering intensified, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.
With her right hand, Cressida cradled Anna’s chin, guiding her gaze upward. “Tell me... What’s wrong with you? What are you afraid of?”
The moment Anna’s eyes met Cressida’s, a pang of guilt struck her heart. She tried to look away, but Cressida’s gentle yet firm grip on her chin kept her gaze locked, and tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes as she stared into Cressida’s.
“Why are you torturing yourself? Don’t you know a problem shared is half solved?”
Cressida’s words pierced Anna’s heart like a needle, releasing a torrent of tears that streamed down her face, some falling to the ground while others rolled onto Cressida’s hand. Yet Cressida remained steady and uncomplaining.
Anna’s legs gave way, and she fell to her knees, her hands clasped together in a pleading gesture. “I’m sorry, ma’am…” she begged, her voice cracking as she struggled to control her tears. “I’m sorry for what I did. It was never my intention. Problems caused by poverty forced me to do it.”
Cressida’s eyes furrowed with concern. “What are you talking about?” She asked, feigning ignorance. “Why are you apologizing to me? What was never your intention? What problems did poverty cause?”
As Cressida spoke, she extended her arms to help Anna to her feet. “Before you say anything, get up. You didn’t offend me. And even if you did, you shouldn’t be apologizing on your knees.”
Anna shook her head, her body stiffening as she refused Cressida’s attempt to lift her. “No,” she said firmly. “This is the best position I should be in. Let me stay like this.”
Cressida’s expression turned firm. “Unless you stand on your feet, I’m not interested in whatever you’ve got to say.”
Anna quickly scrambled to her feet, her gaze cast downward as she clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry,” she began, pausing as she struggled to find the right words. She knew she didn’t deserve forgiveness, and expulsion seemed a fitting punishment, but the possibility of something far worse terrified her.
“You put a device on me,” Cressida dropped a bombshell.
Anna’s eyes widened as she raised her head and looked at Cressida’s face in shock, dumbfounded to even utter a word.
Cressida scoffed and shrugged. “It’s obvious.”
The revelation left Anna frozen, her mind reeling with questions. If Cressida knew, why had she been showing concern and mercy instead of turning her in?
Cressida beamed lightly. “You’re surprised, aren’t you?”
Anna’s instincts screamed at her to fall to her knees again, to beg for mercy and forgiveness, but Cressida’s gentle touch held her back.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” Cressida said softly. “I’ve forgiven you because I can see the weight of your regret. You’re consumed by guilt. The anguish eating away at you is enough.”
Despite Cressida’s gentle words, Anna felt compelled to plead for forgiveness, her hands clasped together in a desperate gesture. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Tears streamed down her face as she continued, “I’m really sorry, ma’am. I didn’t—”
Cressida’s gentle smile interrupted Anna’s apologies. “It’s okay, Anna,” she said, her voice soothing. With a tender touch of her finger, she wiped away some of Anna’s tears, her eyes locked on hers. “Now. Tell me what are the problems poverty caused that pushed you to this?”
Anna sniffled, her voice barely above a whisper. “It... it’s... it’s my…” She stumbled, her thoughts tangled in the painful memories that never ceased to make her cry whenever she was alone—both day and night—at home or work.
As Cressida opened her arms, Anna’s resistance crumbled, and she stepped into the warm embrace. The gentle pressure of Cressida’s arms wrapped around her was like a balm to her frazzled nerves.
“Guess you need this so much,” Cressida whispered, her voice a soft rumble against Anna’s ear.
Anna nodded jerkily, her arms tightening around Cressida as she buried her face in Cressida’s shoulder. For a moment, the formalities between them melted away, and all that was left was the warmth of human connection.
“Okay,” Cressida murmured, her voice filled with a gentle smile. “You know what? Let’s do this until you’ve had enough.”