Chapter 6 – When the House Begins to Change

Two weeks had passed since Elliot was granted permission to stay.

And in those two weeks, Claire's house no longer operated with its usual precision. There were faint footsteps in the morning. The clinking of spoons in the kitchen earlier than breakfast time. Emilia's muffled laughter when Elliot tried helping with dishes—though he broke more than he cleaned.

Henri, who rarely showed any reaction, now occasionally raised an eyebrow or sighed more heavily whenever Elliot appeared in the hallway with his loosely knotted school tie and half-dried hair.

Claire noticed it all.

She observed these changes in silence. No reprimands, no praise. But every evening when returning from work, her steps slowed as she approached the door. As if she didn't want to arrive too soon. As if... something awaited her behind those walls.

That afternoon, Claire came home earlier than usual. The sky hadn't darkened yet, and a light rain dampened the driveway. She opened the door, and the aroma of chicken soup greeted her from the kitchen.

She turned. Emilia was stirring a pot while Elliot stood beside her, nervously holding two glasses of water.

"Emilia said you never eat on time," he said upon seeing Claire. "So I asked her to teach me one thing that might make you... come home earlier."

Claire studied him. Elliot's face looked cleaner, brighter. He still wore the same worn clothes, but his expression was different—alive, assured.

"You cooked?" Claire finally asked.

"Nearly lost a finger just chopping carrots. But I'm learning," he replied lightly.

Claire set her bag on the hallway console, then stepped closer.

"How is it?"

Elliot scooped a small spoonful, blew on it, and offered it to Claire. "Judge for yourself."

Claire looked at the spoon. She wasn't accustomed to accepting unsolicited gestures. But today... she didn't refuse. She took a tentative sip.

It was... imperfect. Slightly oversalted, the chicken too tender. Yet there was warmth in it. Something no recipe could replicate.

"Not bad," Claire murmured.

Elliot grinned. "Does that mean I can be your personal chef?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Emilia still outclasses you."

"Then I'll be her apprentice."

Claire suppressed the smile threatening her lips. She turned to leave.

But before she could, Elliot asked without looking at her:

"Does this place feel like home to you too?"

Claire paused. She didn't turn, didn't answer. But she stood just long enough for the question to... settle between them.

And that night, for the first time, the kitchen lights stayed on a little longer. Claire sat at the dining table while Elliot animatedly recounted his school day like a child who'd finally found someone to listen.

The house was no longer silent. No longer flawless. But more... alive.

---

After dinner, Claire retreated to her study. Normally she'd immediately close the door, power up her dual monitors, and review the endless financial reports from her restaurants. But tonight was different.

She didn't sit at her desk. Instead, she stood by the large window overlooking the rain-dampened garden. The landscape lights glowed softly. There, barely visible, was Elliot sitting on a wicker chair with what appeared to be a cup of hot chocolate prepared by Emilia.

Claire watched silently. The boy didn't know he was being observed. He simply gazed at the sky, occasionally brushing dew from his hair.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Come in."

Henri entered with a stack of documents. But this time, he didn't leave immediately after delivering them.

"Forgive me, Miss Claire... may I ask something?"

Claire turned. "Go ahead."

Henri bowed slightly before speaking. "Will Elliot be... staying longer than we anticipated?"

Claire was silent for several seconds. "Why do you ask?"

"Because this house has sounds it never had before. Because the dining table hasn't seated two people in... years. And because... I believe you're allowing someone to stand too close."

Claire's expression remained neutral. "Are you worried about me?"

Henri nodded. "I only wish for you to be cautious."

"Elliot isn't a threat, Henri."

"Sometimes what weakens us isn't an enemy. But someone we've allowed to occupy spaces meant to stay empty."

Claire held Henri's gaze before saying, "You may leave."

He bowed and exited without another word.

When silence returned, Claire stepped out of her study. She grabbed a light coat and walked into the backyard. Her footsteps were quiet but audible enough for Elliot to turn.

"Oh." Elliot stood. "Want to sit?"

Claire didn't answer. She approached and took the empty chair beside him. Moments later, she accepted a still-warm cup of chocolate from Elliot. Its sweet aroma soothed the chill.

"Why are you out here?" Claire finally asked.

"The night sky is calm tonight. I like sitting under it. Most people don't appreciate stillness... but sometimes, I think the sky listens better than humans."

Claire gave a slight nod. "You often speak like that."

"Like what?"

"Like someone carrying too much for your age."

Elliet looked down. "Maybe that's why... I can't go anywhere without bringing my hunger. Not just for food. But... for presence."

Claire glanced at him. "And now?"

"Now... I'm full. But afraid that one day... everything goes quiet again."

Silence lingered between them. The cold air seeped into their cup-warmed hands.

"I never thought I'd share this house with anyone," Claire said at last. "But somehow... your presence doesn't feel like an intrusion."

Elliot smiled faintly, almost like someone granted permission to breathe easier.

And that night, the small garden behind Claire's house wasn't just a place where two people of different ages, backgrounds, and perspectives sat together. It became where a long-frozen heart began to thaw... by the simplest thing of all: companionship.