The second we stepped inside, Emily and Josh were off. The size of the place seemed to swallow them in the best way possible. They didn't walk—they ran.
Josh, with his wide eyes and uncontainable energy, was the first to dart down the hallway. His small feet pattered across the polished floors, echoing in the grand silence of the house. Emily, a little more cautious, trailed behind him, her face lit with a mix of awe and disbelief. She'd never seen so many rooms in her life, let alone ones that smelled like fresh flowers and clean linen.
"Look, Anne!" Josh shouted from down the hall, his voice high-pitched with excitement. "There's a door that leads outside!" He was already pulling at the glass double doors leading to a patio, the cool breeze rushing inside, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.
Emily, her hand still clutching the stuffed rabbit, ran to the stairs. "Come on, Josh! The second floor!" She grinned as she dashed up the steps, her bare feet light as air on the wide staircase. I couldn't help but smile as I watched them, their laughter bouncing off the walls.
I followed them to the top of the stairs, where they immediately found their rooms. Emily opened the door to her new space first. It was soft, peaceful—painted in light blues and purples with a large window looking out onto the garden. The sun was setting, casting the room in a warm, golden light. She walked in slowly, like she was afraid the room might vanish if she moved too fast.
Josh, on the other hand, had already jumped onto his bed—laughing as the mattress creaked under his weight. He bounced on it once, then twice, his giggles spilling out like music.
"Anne, look!" he shouted, his face full of joy. "This bed is bouncy!"
I leaned against the doorframe, watching them. Emily stepped into the room next to his, her eyes lighting up as she saw her own bed—a big, soft one with a colorful quilt. She plopped down onto it, then rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow.
"It's so soft," she whispered, her voice full of wonder.
Josh came running in, not missing a beat, and jumped right onto her bed too, sending both of them into a heap of giggles.
"You can't do that!" Emily protested, but she was laughing, too. "This is my bed!"
I couldn't help but laugh, my heart swelling with something I hadn't felt in a long time—peace. The house was alive with their joy, the way it should have been. It wasn't just a house. It was their new world to explore, and they were filling it with life.
As I stood there, watching the two of them, I finally allowed myself to breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh air that seemed to wrap around us in this strange, beautiful place.
For the first time in forever, I let myself believe we could belong here.
After the excitement of exploring their new rooms, Emily and Josh were eager to experience everything the mansion had to offer. When I led them to the bathrooms, their eyes widened at the sight of the sleek, shiny shower fixtures and plush towels hanging neatly on hooks.
"Look, Anne!" Emily said, her voice filled with awe as she turned the water on. The steam began to rise, and she stepped in, the warm water cascading over her like a gentle waterfall. Josh followed her in eagerly, his giggles filling the room as the water splashed around him.
I couldn't help but smile as I stood outside, watching them. They splashed and played, carefree for the first time in what felt like forever. Emily's long hair shimmered as it clung to her back, and Josh, drenched from head to toe, looked like he'd just stepped out of a dream.
When they finished, wrapped in thick towels, they ran back to their rooms. I helped them into soft pajamas—clothes that weren't hand-me-downs, but new, and clean, and theirs. They snuggled under the blankets, the kind I hadn't even dared to dream of for them—thick, warm, and comfortable. The beds were so soft, they sank into them with a contented sigh.
"Goodnight, Anne," Emily whispered, her eyes fluttering closed almost immediately.
Josh, his face still glowing from his shower, snuggled up next to his sister. "Goodnight, Anne," he murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow.
I stood there, watching them drift into a peaceful sleep. The house, once so foreign and intimidating, now felt like a haven. Their soft breathing filled the room, a melody of quiet happiness. For the first time, I felt like I could let go of the weight I'd carried for so long.
I quietly walked out into the living room, where Mr. Philip was busy in the kitchen. The soft clatter of pots and pans reached me as I entered, the rich scent of something delicious already wafting through the air. He was making dinner for us—something warm and filling, but it wasn't just the food that comforted me.
"You've done enough for today," I said, my voice soft as I watched him move about. He paused for a moment, then smiled up at me.
"I just want to make sure you're all well taken care of," he said gently. "Rest is important, but so is a good meal."
I watched him, my thoughts drifting. I realized how much had changed in such a short time. The constant worry, the aching limbs from work, the sleepless nights spent wondering how I'd keep my siblings safe and fed—it was all slipping away, piece by piece.
I stood there for a long moment, letting the peacefulness of the house settle over me.
As I sat down on one of the plush chairs, I felt a pang of longing for my mother. I wished she could be here, just for a day, to experience a life like this. To see her children safe, clean, and happy. She'd fought so hard, with so little, and now… now we had more than we'd ever hoped for.
If only she could've known this peace. If only she could've seen Emily and Josh laughing, free of the burden of survival.
I glanced at Mr. Philip, who was stirring something in a pot, his back to me. He was right—this was no longer just about surviving. This was about living. And I realized, for the first time in years, that I didn't have to be the one doing it all. I didn't have to carry the weight alone.
It wasn't just a home. It was a chance—a chance to breathe, to heal, to be more than just a person caught in a cycle of never-ending struggle.
I allowed myself a deep breath, wishing my mother could feel this life, if only for a moment. Then, I closed my eyes, allowing the quiet comfort of the house, the warmth of the meal, and the safety of my siblings to wash over me.
Tomorrow, I'd take the next step. But for tonight, I allowed myself to rest.