The shining stars orphanage

The days dragged on into weeks, and before I knew it, I had already lived a month in this life. Nothing had changed — and yet, somehow, everything had.

I hardly saw Callahan. He came back late from work and was gone before I even woke up. After the first night, when I’d complained about his late arrivals, I never brought it up again.

Why should I? Why should I care, when it doesn’t make a difference to him? If Oliver was fine with it, then I can be too.

Instead, I lay in bed each night, pretending I wasn’t keeping myself awake just to hear him come in. Pretending I didn’t feel the sharp ache of disappointment every morning when I woke up alone.

Pretending I didn’t feel the heart-crushing loneliness whenever I ate every meal by myself. Pretending everything had changed. Pretending everything was better — when it wasn’t.

It was still the same.

I was still waiting for something that wasn’t there.

I didn’t look at the other side of the bed when I woke up, like I’d taken to doing lately. I just walked straight into the bathroom, not bothering to check the mirror — I already knew I looked terrible.

I brushed my teeth and ran a wet hand through my hair. It was getting too long.

Back in the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed, heavy with a kind of exhaustion that had nothing to do with sleep.

Then came a knock on the door.

I didn’t respond, but it opened anyway. A maid stepped inside, hands clasped in front of her, head bowed.

"Breakfast is ready, sir."

"I’m not hungry," I said flatly.

She looked up, startled by my immediate reply.

"Sir—"

"I’m not hungry, I repeated, standing.

It was part of the routine: a maid would come fetch me for breakfast, I’d eat, then wander around the house until lunch. The same cycle, over and over.

But it wasn’t my routine — it was Oliver’s.

And I hated it.

"Please leave."

She hesitated. "But sir—"

"I said leave," I snapped, glaring.

She flinched, nodded quickly, and bowed before leaving the room.

I stared at the spot where she’d been standing, then headed for the bathroom again to take a shower, a fresh change of clothes in hand.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked back into the room, towel-drying my hair — and froze.

Callahan was sitting on the edge of the bedside table, thumbing through a folder with casual disinterest.

I stood motionless just outside the bathroom, my eyes locked on him.

"Why are you still here?"

That caught his attention. He looked up at me and pushed the folder aside.

He was dressed in a dark blue suit, jacket off and neatly draped over the back of a chair. Shoes still on.

"Why are you still here?" I asked again, sharper this time.

"Hilda called," he said simply, folding his arms. His arms flexed and I immediately dragged my eyes away. "She said you refused to eat."

"I’m not hungry," I replied, gripping the towel tighter.

Callahan stared at me — not harshly, but like he was trying to figure me out.

I kept my face blank. If he wanted to play the I-don’t-care game, fine. I’d play too.

"I’m sorry if Hilda disturbed you with anything about me," I said coolly. "But I’m not hungry. You can go back to work. You don’t have to pretend to care."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes — anger, maybe — but then his expression went cold again, unreadable.

"I don’t," he said, meeting my gaze. "I don’t care."

He stood, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the room.

I watched the door shut behind him, my heart pounding, breath catching.

I let out a shaky sigh and collapsed onto the bed.

"I can’t do this," I whispered, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. "I can’t do this."

A sigh came from beside me — quiet but familiar. I didn’t have to look to know it was Leon.

I turned my head. He floated beside me, wearing a look of quiet sympathy.

"I don’t want this anymore," I said, my voice thick. "I don’t want this second chance."

Leon sighed again. "Royal—"

"I killed myself to escape," I cut him off. "To get away from the pain, the loneliness, the disappointment... and somehow, I ended up right back in it."

He gave me a long look and let out a breath.

"I can’t tell you what to do," he said. "But I can point you in the right direction."

He nodded toward the desk in the corner. "Before We Were Strangers. Try reading it."

Then he was gone.

I stared at the empty air for a long moment before dragging myself off the bed and walking to the desk. It was cluttered with papers and pens and folders, but a single book sat off to the side.

The cover was soft and nostalgic, like an old photograph. Something about it tugged at a memory I couldn’t place. A piece of paper stuck out between the pages.

I pulled it out.

.

Let the children’s light shine the brightest.

My brows furrowed.

That name... it felt familiar. I must’ve been there. Oliver must’ve been there.

I stared at the card for a while longer, then slipped it back into the book and stood.

If I wanted answers — some answers at least— I knew where I needed to go.

I changed into something casual: a dark yellow cotton sweater and blue jeans. I gave myself a once-over in the mirror, then picked up the book and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I hadn’t touched the phone since I arrived in this life. Holding it now made everything feel more real.

I headed downstairs. The servants were busy with their usual routines. I ignored them and made for the door.

"Are you going somewhere, sir?" one of them called as she spotted me.

I stopped. "Yes. I’m heading out."

"Shall I call the driver?"

"No." My voice was sharp. She flinched.

"I’ll take a cab."

Her eyes widened. "But sir—"

"I’ll take a cab," I repeated, more firmly. Some of the others had turned to look, murmuring quietly.

"What if Mister Callahan asks where you’ve gone?"

I scoffed. "Tell him it’s none of his goddamned business!"

And with that, I turned and walked out the door.