Chapter 1 - Whisper of Past
Underneath the vast canvas of the sky, the clouds stretched like cotton tufts, while a gentle breeze carried the promise of imminent rain. In a mystical ballet, the trees swayed gracefully, their dance intertwining with the aged wooden bridge suspended above the serene lake. It was a weather that caressed the soul, offering respite from the burdens of life—a return to the warmth of home.
As Anaya stood by the open window of her new home, overlooking the old wooden bridge leading to the forest, a wistful smile graced her lips. Well, not so new home. She thought with a sense of nostalgia. Her heart pressed painfully. It had been so long since she thought about her so-called childhood and birth parents. It was easy that way. Not thinking. Not remembering. The good and the bad.
Anaya gave out a sigh, closing her eyes and lowering her head in reluctant defeat. At this moment, she yearned for the peace of not remembering, but the memories persisted like shadows too stubborn to leave her alone. The pain of losing her foster parents was as fresh as bleeding wound, and at this stage it was not suitable for her fragile sanity to start thinking of her birth parents. It would threaten to unravel everything she was trying to build for herself.
Perhaps, she mused, she had acted hastily in returning to this city, and her decision to purchase her long-abandoned birthplace bordered on foolishness. Yes, it was budget friendly and held sentimental value, but she should’ve realized the very real ghosts that haunted this place, refusing to leave her alone in her peaceful solitude. It would’ve been lot better if she had remained in Mumbai rather than following her desire to return to her roots. Perhaps she should have stayed in bustling Mumbai, away from the ghosts of her past. Yet, a strange yearning had compelled her to reconnect with her roots, a yearning born from the trauma of her parents' tragic demise—a desire to reconcile the old with the new, or maybe to escape the fresh wounds even if the consequences were to scratch open the old scars.
She couldn't deny the practicality of living here though, where the cost of living was more manageable, allowing her to continue her studies. Her foster parents may have left her a substantial sum, but it was scarcely enough to fund an education in a sprawling, expensive city like Mumbai.
If only that accident wouldn’t have happen and her parents were still alive...
Anaya shut her eyes trying to hold back the tears that would open the floodgates to misery and pain, something she was not ready to face if she wanted to move ahead. Her hand reached out to the glass of window as she tried to hold herself. When she opened her eyes back her hazel orbs turned inadvertently to the place her hand had grazed. The glass was glued back with fragments still evident; a lousy job of fixing the broken glass but she gave out a sad chuckle as her hand grazed it very carefully.
Her mind travelled back in time when she had hit the window with a ball consequently breaking it. She had been really scared but her mother had hugged her and even her father had only shaken his head with a smile relieving her child self. Her heart clenched in pain, and she snatched her hand, feeling the old feeling of loss welling up. Her head hung up in defeat as she screwed her eyes shut.
Why did everyone she cared about leave her? Even her big teddy had left her without looking back, hadn't he? Did he never long to reunite with her, to learn of her well-being? Did their bond mean nothing? Those cherished moments, reduced to mere echoes?
Anaya hastily brushed away a solitary tear, vigorously shaking her head to disperse the lingering memories and unhealed wounds. It was no use dwelling on the things that were gone. The house wielded a greater power over her emotions than she had initially anticipated. It was time to move forward, to stop looking back for those who might have already forgotten her.
With a determined breath, Anaya squared her shoulders, pushing herself away from the wall. Passing through a modest hallway, she entered a tidy room, its walls adorned in pristine white. In the room's centre lay a double bed, with a small cupboard nestled beside it. There was no study table, but she was sure she could manage without it, being the only member in the house and all. Retrieving her sling bag from the bed, she hastened out of the house. She had meeting to attend, a future job that could help her with her needs rather than waiting for some miracle. Sure, it would be small job, but it was all she needed at the moment.
The crisp, invigorating breeze greeted her like an icy caress, prompting a faint smile, despite the shivers that coursed through her body. Her attire, consisting of blue jeans and a half-sleeved red shirt, proved ill-suited for Ashcroft's chilly weather. Regretting her oversight, she hurried back to her room, yanking open the wardrobe where she had organized her clothes just hours earlier. With haste, she extracted a shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders before darting out once more. Although, there was time for her meeting with the café's owner, she wanted to get out of the house and not mop over her stupid emotions.
As she crossed the threshold of her home, her gaze wandered toward the distant forest. She paused for a prolonged moment, silently contemplating the woods, an inexplicable urge to abandon her plans for the day and explore its depths entrancing her for a moment. This peculiar impulse had tugged at her since childhood, but her mother had always forbidden her from venturing anywhere near the bridge or the forest. But she couldn’t help yet feel the need to go over the bridge and the world that awaits her in that forest.
"Later," she commanded herself, though the yearning remained, a whisper of untamed curiosity and a strong feeling.