The Conversation (1)

Matilda opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She wasn't sure what to say.

Madam Tera, however, was patient.

She took another sip of tea before setting the cup down gently on the table beside her.

Then, with years of wisdom and experience, she steered the conversation with practiced ease, guiding Matilda by the nose until, unknowingly, she began to reveal almost everything about her life.

It all started with small talk.

"So… do you enjoy the work here?" Madam Tera asked, leaning back slightly, her expression unreadable.

Matilda hesitated, carefully choosing her words. "It's… manageable," she said cautiously.

Madam Tera hummed. "Manageable? That's an interesting choice of words." She tilted her head slightly.

"That sounds like something someone says when they don't want to complain but don't want to lie either."

Matilda's fingers instinctively curled around the hem of her worn-out dress. "I don't have the luxury to complain, Madam."

Madam Tera raised a brow. "Who told you that?"

Matilda blinked, taken aback. "No one… I just..."

Madam Tera clicked her tongue. "You're an Omega, not a piece of furniture. You breathe, you think, you feel. If something troubles you, it's not complaining, it's acknowledging reality."

Matilda stared down at her hands, unsure how to respond.

Madam Tera leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Let me guess… you believe keeping your head down and enduring everything quietly is the best way to survive?"

Matilda's silence was answer enough.

Madam Tera exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Enduring is not the same as living, child. And from what I've seen, you endure more than most."

A lump formed in Matilda's throat, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn't break...not here, not now.

Madam Tera must have noticed because she shifted the conversation with the grace of someone well-versed in handling fragile souls.

"Tell me, Matilda," she said, pouring herself another cup of tea. "What's your favorite time of the day?"

The question caught Matilda off guard. "What?"

"Your favorite time of the day," Madam Tera repeated, gesturing for her to sit. "When do you feel most at ease?"

Matilda hesitated before lowering herself onto the chair across from her.

She thought for a moment before answering honestly. "At night… when it's quiet. When no one is watching."

Madam Tera smiled knowingly. "Ah… a child of solitude."

Matilda tilted her head slightly. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," Madam Tera replied. "But it does tell me something important...you don't feel safe around others."

Matilda tensed, but the older woman continued before she could protest.

"Solitude can be a sanctuary, but it can also be a prison. Tell me, Matilda… when was the last time you let yourself be vulnerable with someone?"

Matilda parted her lips, but no words came. Vulnerability? The concept was almost foreign to her.

Madam Tera nodded as though she had expected that answer. "That's what I thought."

For the first time since entering, Matilda found herself truly looking at Madam Tera, not as a strict overseer but as someone who understood.

Someone who saw past the surface.

And before she realized it, words began spilling from her lips; bits and pieces of her past, her struggles, her fears.

She spoke of her parents, of the life she barely remembered before tragedy struck.

She spoke of how hard she worked to stay out of trouble, yet trouble always found her.

She spoke of the accusations, the silent suffering, the weight of loneliness she carried every single day.

And Madam Tera listened.

She did not interrupt, nor did she offer false reassurances. She simply let Matilda speak, her steady gaze never once wavering.

By the time Matilda fell silent, her chest felt lighter, but also strangely exposed.

Madam Tera took a final sip of her tea before setting the cup down with a soft clink. "You have endured much, Matilda," she said, her voice softer than before. "But hear me when I say this...you are not alone."

Matilda lowered her gaze. Aren't I? she wanted to ask. But she said nothing.

Instead, she sat there, letting the silence settle between them, realizing for the first time in a long while… she hadn't been forced to endure it alone tonight.