After breakfast, Sophia dragged Charlie and Jamie out for errands, leaving me with a quiet house. She did ask if I would like to join them, but I preferred staying back. I lingered around the living room, running my fingers over the old family photos stacked on the wall.
There were too many photos on the wall, but one frame caught my eyes. A sun-faded picture of us as kids. Sophia and me, grinning with our messy pigtails, and there behind us, stands a taller figure with his arms crossed like a reluctant guardian. It was Tristan Donovan.
I remembered that day clearly in my mind. Sophia had dared me to climb the apple tree in their backyard, but I slipped halfway up the tree and scraped my knees. I cried so loudly that the neighbours might probably hear it.
Tristan, as the loyal guardian he is, had been the one who lifted me down the tree. I could still hear his voice softer than ever, telling me not to be reckless again while pressing the band-aid over my cut like it was the most important job in the world.
Back then, he was like the big brother figure to me. Distant, responsible, yet kind.
However, now, he felt different.
"You always stare too long at things," a voice said behind me.
I spun my heels, startled over the voice. I saw Tristan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, just like him in the photo. Only for this time, he wasn't like the lanky teenager I used to know anymore. The current him is more solid, broad, and his eyes carried a shadows I couldn't understand.
"Sorry," I muttered. "The photo brings back too many memories that I felt the need to reminisce our childhood day."
His gaze followed mine to the photo. For a moment, I can feel his expression softened, almost wistful. "You used to follow Sophia everywhere. That is when your nickname 'The Little Shadow' comes to life," he said. "But it seems you were the only one who will get scraped up."
I laughed quietly. "It is still true now."
Silence stretched between us. It felt heavy and charged. I could feel his eyes linger on me, unflinching.
"You are not that little girl anymore," he said finally, with his low voice. "I can see that clearly now."
My breath got caught in my throat because within his tone, it sounded less like an observation. It was more like a warning.