Chapter 45……….
As expected, Minerva was there.
But Ayla couldn’t ask her right away.
Minerva was lying on a long sofa, a blanket draped over her, breathing softly in sleep.
“Ah—Aslan’s here too.”
When Ayla looked closer, she saw Aslan nestled in Minerva’s arms.
Now that she thought about it, ever since coming to this house, Ayla had hardly ever slept alone.
Even when she took short naps, when she woke up, Minerva and Aslan would usually be there.
Aslan, clearly delighted to have Minerva all to himself again after so long, was dozing off with a blissful smile, his eyes closed in contentment.
Ayla stepped back with a small smile.
“Better not wake them.”
Seeing them both sleeping so peacefully, she couldn’t bring herself to disturb them.
So Ayla sat down on an empty sofa and picked up a book to read.
After a while, Minerva stirred awake first.
“Mmm…”
Perhaps because she had just woken, Minerva’s face wasn’t as warm and approachable as usual. It looked difficult to approach her.
But the moment her eyes fell on Aslan, that distant look melted away like magic into warmth.
That same warmth soon turned to Ayla, and Minerva blinked in surprise.
“Oh, Ayla. When did you get here?”
“A little while ago.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
“You looked like you were sleeping so soundly.”
Minerva gave a sheepish smile, almost embarrassed.
It wasn’t a big deal… But Ayla found herself wishing Minerva would treat her with the same casual ease she treated Aslan.
Of course, that was easier said than done. Minerva was the most dignified person Ayla had ever met—kind, gentle, friendly, but always maintaining a certain grace.
She would never treat Ayla with the same unguarded comfort she showed her own son.
“Eeeeh.”
Aslan whined playfully, clinging to Minerva’s waist.
“Goodness.”
Minerva smiled helplessly but still stroked his hair and cheek with tender affection.
Watching that, Ayla suddenly lost the courage to ask the question she had wanted to ask since earlier.
She couldn’t explain why, but her spirits sank lower instead.
And it was Aslan who gave her the answer.
That night, Aslan came to her room.
“Ayla, I’m going to sleep with Mom tonight for the first time in ages. Want to come too?”
Ayla loved Minerva’s embrace—it smelled nice and felt warm.
It had been the first time in her life that someone had held her to sleep. At first it felt awkward, but now, she couldn’t imagine being without it.
It even felt like… this must be what having a mother was like.
So she was about to nod happily—but then the image of Aslan’s smile that afternoon flashed in her mind: him looking like the happiest boy in the world, holding Minerva all to himself.
Could she really intrude on that?
Before she could even decide, her lips betrayed her.
“Mm, no. I’m fine.”
“Really?”
Normally, she would have caved in and agreed, even if only reluctantly.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep alone tonight.”
For some reason, it just felt wrong to intrude this time.
Though Aslan looked a little disappointed, he skipped away on light steps, clearly thrilled at the thought of having his mother all to himself again.
The room fell quiet at once.
And for the first time since coming to this house, Ayla felt lonely. The room, so familiar over the past two weeks, now felt strangely foreign.
And then she realized the reason her heart had been so restless all day.
“I didn’t want to be apart from Madam and Aslan.”
She had been so happy being between Minerva and Aslan—it felt like gaining a new family.
But no matter how fairly Minerva tried to treat them both, her daughter and someone else’s child could never be the same.
The moment Ayla realized that, she felt like an intruder.
“Oh no… how embarrassing.”
She was so embarrassed, she could cry.
Minerva and Aslan had only been kind, looking after her out of compassion, yet she had foolishly let herself believe she was part of their family.
She felt especially sorry toward Aslan.
For two whole weeks, he had been forced to share his beloved mother’s attention with a complete stranger.
No matter how kind Aslan was, there was no way he didn’t feel some jealousy.
Even the way he had bounced away just now, thrilled to be alone with Minerva again, told her he must have been bottling up frustrations.
Minerva had cared for Ayla with sincerity, and Ayla was truly grateful for that.
But still…
“I don’t want Aslan to hate me.”
He was her very first real friend.
Even now, she wanted to return all the affection she had received from Minerva back to Aslan where it belonged.
So she decided she would refuse Minerva’s kindness from now on.
If she was considerate, she wouldn’t be resented.
But the next morning, every time she saw Minerva’s face, her guilt welled up, and she couldn’t stop her tears.
She could hold them back around Aslan—but not Minerva.
Somehow, being near Minerva made her want to lean on her, to act spoiled.
So the whole day, she ended up troubling both Minerva and Aslan with her tears.
That night, determined to give Aslan the chance to sleep soundly at Minerva’s side, she turned him away when he came to her room.
“I’m going to practice sleeping alone from today. Don’t worry about me—go sleep with Madam. And… could you tell Madam she doesn’t need to fuss over me anymore, either?”
Those were the words she had been unable to say properly during the day.
But those words set off a huge butterfly effect.
* * *
After hearing Ayla’s story, I was dumbfounded.
To think that was the reason.
‘Well, I’m glad it wasn’t something I did wrong, but still…’
I had thought Ayla had become brighter and more outspoken recently.
But just like no one changes overnight, she still didn’t know how to simply accept kindness for what it was.
With tears falling, Ayla apologized:
“I’m so sorry, Madam. It’s all because I couldn’t explain myself properly…”
“No, Ayla. You have nothing to be sorry for. Don’t say that.”
“B-but…”
Oh, these soft tears of hers.
Still, it’s better to cry a lot while you’re young—because when you’re older, you often won’t even be able to, even when you want to.
Besides, Ayla was still at the age where it was natural to cling and fuss.
I took out a handkerchief and wiped her tears.
But as soon as I did, she broke into even heavier sobs, as though my kindness made it all the more overwhelming.
“Madam…”
“Oh dear, your pretty eyes will swell.”
I pressed the handkerchief gently against her eyes again and again.
After some time, when she finally calmed and only sniffled softly, I spoke to her more seriously.
“But you know, there’s one thing that hurt my feelings.”
“Eh—w-what is it?”
Ayla looked at me anxiously, waiting.
Her worried little face was so pitiful and cute, I couldn’t help but chuckle and pat her head.
“We’re not strangers, you and I. But then, all of a sudden, you started keeping your distance. That… made me sad.”
“Ah…”
She looked utterly surprised—like it had never even occurred to her that I might feel that way.
Her self-esteem was so low that she thought of herself only as a burden. No wonder she never imagined her distance might hurt me.
Of course, there was some truth to what she had said earlier.
It was natural to treat one’s own child differently from another’s.
But still—
“As long as you’re in this house, I care for you and Aslan the same. While you’re here, I’m your guardian too. Not once did I think of you as a nuisance.”
Ayla’s eyes widened in surprise—and joy. But only for a moment.
Then, nervously, she lowered her brows and asked, clearly still afraid of Aslan’s opinion.
“But… will Aslan think that way too? He already thinks I hate him, and besides, I stole time he could’ve had alone with you. What if he really dislikes me? Even today, he seemed uncomfortable…”
Her insecurity over such little things was frustrating, but I patiently reassured her.
“Why on earth would Aslan dislike you? He adores you. He never thought I was stolen away—he was just thrilled to have someone new to play with.”
“R-really…?”
“Of course. Who else would play dolls with him? Thanks to you, I got such a break this time.”
I joked lightly, and Ayla fidgeted with her fingers.
I took her hand and spoke earnestly:
“Both Aslan and I care about you very much. So please—don’t distance yourself from us just because you’re overthinking.”
“B-but…”
She still looked unconvinced, still afraid she was nothing but an intruder.
I wondered what I could say to finally banish her doubts—then I remembered her words about seeing us as family.
But there was an even better word than “family.”
“You’re one of us, Ayla. You’re part of our household.”
