The caretaker, on her name Olga, still watching the scene unfold with a mixture of relief and curiosity, approaches the woman with a gentle smile.
"Thank you... for comforting him," she says softly, her voice warm yet filled with a quiet gratitude. "He's usually so shy, but... it's like you've known him forever."
Emily smiles back, her arms still gently cradling the little boy, who hasn't budged an inch. He's quiet now, his small hand resting on her chest, his body relaxed in her embrace.
"It's nothing, really. He just needed someone to hold him. Sometimes that's all it takes," Emily replies, glancing down at Tudor with a tender gaze.
Olga nods, stepping back toward the house. "Well... if you'd like, you're welcome to come inside for a moment. It's the least I can do. You've made him feel safe, and that's not something we come by easily." She gestures toward the door. "Come in, have some water?"
Emily hesitates, but before she can answer, the boy shifts in her arms, nuzzling closer as though he won't let her go. The caretaker notices and smiles knowingly.
"Looks like someone's found a new friend," she chuckles softly, stepping aside to let them in.
With a quiet nod, Emily enters the house, her arms still wrapped protectively around the boy. She follows the caretaker into the cozy kitchen, where the air smells faintly of fresh herbs and something sweet baking in the oven. Olga pours a glass of cold water and hands it to her, eyes flickering down to the boy, who still doesn't seem ready to leave his new "safe place."
"Here you go," Olga says kindly. "You're a very comforting person. Does he know you?"
Emily takes the glass, her fingers brushing lightly against the cool surface. "I don't think so. I just... knew what he needed in that moment." She pauses, glancing at the boy in her arms. "Sometimes, kids just need to feel like they belong, even if it's only for a little while."
Emily smiles warmly at the caretaker and Dora, setting the glass down on the kitchen counter.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. My name's Emily," she says kindly, her voice gentle. "I found the little one out in the garden, and he tripped. I just helped him feel better."
Olga's gaze shifts from the little boy to Emily, her curiosity deepening. "You're not... like the other people. He never does this with anyone. He doesn't just... sit in someone's arms."
Emily chuckles lightly. "I guess he just needed someone to be there for him, just for a little while."
Dora looks down at her brother, still nestled against Emily, his small hand gripping the woman's shirt. After a beat, she turns her gaze back to Emily, a hesitant question lingering in her eyes.
"Do you have a kid?" the girl asks quietly, her words tentative.
Emily nods, a soft smile appearing on her face as she thinks of her daughter. "Yes, I do. A daughter, actually. She's 12 now." Her eyes sparkle for a moment as she talks about her daughter, her tone light but filled with affection.
"12?" The girl's eyes widen in surprise. "That's so odd! I'm 12, as well!" She giggles softly, her initial shyness starting to melt away.
Emily laughs, her voice warm and comforting. "That is odd! You two should meet!"
The boy stirs in her arms again, and Emily looks down at him with a gentle smile. "You've got a wonderful little brother," she says to the girl. "He's got a lot of heart, doesn't he?"
The girl's smile softens, a mixture of pride and love flashing in her eyes. "Yeah, he's... he's a handful sometimes, but I love him. And he's... always looking for something, I guess. Like he doesn't know where he fits."
The woman looks at her thoughtfully. "Sometimes we all feel like that. Maybe he just needed someone to help him remember that he's already where he belongs."
The girl nods, her small face lighting up with a deeper understanding than her years would suggest. "I think he found it. He looks happy."
The boy lifts his head slightly, meeting his sister's gaze for the first time. He smiles faintly, his small hand still clutching the woman's shirt. The silence in the room is filled with a quiet sense of connection, a bond formed not by blood, but by something deeper, something simpler.
---------------------------------
@rp28812 on TikTok
@RP2881-p3v on YouTube
--------------------------------