Needing Him
Celine
I place the plate down on the nightstand, my thoughts swirling as I process Sebastian’s questions and my own. hesitant answers. The room feels warmer now, though the heavy stone walls and dark wooden beams retain a weight that’s hard to ignore. Outside the windows, the faint glow of sunlight filters through tattered curtains, casting soft patterns on the floor. The bed beneath me is surprisingly comfortable, the blankets thick and warm, though they do little to ease the tension in my body.
The questions he asked me linger in my mind, but one stands out among the rest–the possibility that the woman I called “Mum” might not have been my mother. Sebastian seems to think she wasn’t, though he hasn’t outright said it. Why would anyone take me? Why raise me if not out of love? The uncertainty gnaws at me, but I don’t dare
