The night air was crisp, brushing against my face as I stood outside, leaning lightly on the pool's edge. The water reflected the pale moonlight, trembling slightly with the ripple of a gentle breeze. My mind was tangled in thoughts — everything from the day's events to the endless challenges I faced within these walls. The weight of the house, its people, and their complicated webs pressed down on me. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the last thing I wanted was to face another storm of words from Miss Sylvia.
David was there. His presence was calm, strong, yet somehow protective. I dared not look directly at him. I kept my gaze fixed on the rippling water, trying to lose myself in its reflection, hoping to escape the tension that lingered in the compound.
"Chant, hold on," David said gently, his hand reaching for mine. I froze for a moment, surprised by the sudden touch. His grip was firm, but reassuring. He held me back as I instinctively tried to move toward the door, away from the uncomfortable spotlight of attention.
I didn't meet his eyes. I focused on the water, trying to keep my thoughts from spilling over.
"I… I am sorry for whatever Sylvia may have said to you," he continued, his voice low but steady, "Whatever words she used… please, don't take them to heart."
I let out a silent laugh in my mind. Take what to heart? I have lived under her storm for years. Her harsh words, her relentless, demon-like tirade — I've grown used to them.
"I'm okay," I said softly. "I'm not hurt… not really."
David's brows furrowed slightly, as if my composure both puzzled and impressed him. "Why are you always so calm?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "Even with all the treatment you get… this constant… abuse, yet you remain… steady. Is this your personality? Or… is it because of the work you do?"
I smiled faintly, my eyes still fixed on the glimmering water. "I can't say it's all because of work," I admitted. "But… I will say this: Miss Sylvia has taught me something I never thought I could learn — patience. A lot of patience. Without that, I think Mr. Thompson would have thrown me out long ago. Not just once — a hundred times, probably. She wouldn't have lasted a single day in my shoes."
David blinked at me, genuinely stunned. "Seriously… I have never met a girl like you," he said softly, almost in awe. "You're a rare gem, Chantel. A rare gem, indeed."
I felt my cheeks warm slightly at the compliment, but I kept my gaze on the water. David leaned a little closer, his voice dropping, intimate.
"Do you mind if I ask you something… personal? Something… private?"
I hesitated, then nodded, curiosity flickering through my chest.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" His voice was careful, almost tentative, but there was a weight to it.
My heart thumped hard. Boyfriend? Really? Where would one even begin? My mind raced back through the years — my entire life in this house, the quiet afternoons, the lessons Mrs. Johnson taught me, the love I silently nursed for one man and one man only: Mr. Thompson. Besides him, I had never allowed myself to feel for anyone else.
"No," I said softly, almost a whisper. "I don't have a boyfriend. That's not on my mind now. I have other things I need to focus on before I think about a man."
David studied me intently. "Do you mind telling me what those things are?"
I hesitated. No one had ever asked about my private life — no one, aside from Mrs. Johnson… and now, perhaps, David. A small warmth spread through my chest at the thought.
"Well," I said slowly, "there's really nothing much to tell. I'm just… here. A girl trying to make ends meet, doing what I must to survive. That's all."
David didn't speak. He just watched me, silent and contemplative. His eyes softened, and for a moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of us and the quiet ripple of the pool.
Then, from upstairs, a sharp voice pierced the calm:
"Chantel! What are you doing standing out there?"
I looked up, startled. Miss Sylvia was at the window, her expression exactly as it always was — fierce, accusing, almost predatory.
David's hand tightened slightly around mine. "Stand there," he said softly but firmly. "Don't dare say a word."
Sylvia's eyes narrowed. "Are you mad? Come inside and prepare my lunch!"
David turned to her, his jaw tight. "Miss Sylvia… can't you see I am having a conversation with her? Or has your sense of sight or reason failed you? She is not to be interrupted!"
Sylvia hissed loud enough for the windows to rattle slightly, banging her hands against the glass. I had never seen David this angry. Even more surprising, it wasn't directed at me — it was her. He had always shown respect to her, perhaps too much because of Thompson, but now, the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.
I gently withdrew my hand from his hold. "I… I think I need to go inside now," I said softly, stepping back. "I should… I should continue with my work."
David didn't move, just looked at me, still radiating a quiet intensity. "Chantel… you know, you don't have to go," he said softly, but firmly. "She won't do anything. You're safe."
I shook my head, forcing a small smile. "No… I still have to go. Thank you, though, Mr. Dave." I bowed slightly and turned to leave the edge of the pool.
He watched me go, his gaze lingering on my retreating figure. His mind swirled with thoughts — confusion, concern, and something deeper he refused to name yet. A rare, calm girl… with patience unlike anyone he had ever known. David's chest tightened as he realized the depth of her strength, a strength forged under the harshness of Miss Sylvia's constant storms.
She was gentle, but resilient. Strong, yet quiet. Loyal, yet independent.
Standing there, by the moonlit water, David felt a strange tug in his chest, an unfamiliar warmth that insisted he pay attention. He knew one thing with certainty: Chantel was unlike anyone he had ever met. And for reasons he could not yet explain, she had already taken hold of his heart.
He sighed quietly and turned to glance at Sylvia, still glaring from her perch at the window, her anger palpable even from a distance. The contrast between the two women — one brash, loud, and demanding, and the other quiet, composed, and patient — could not have been starker.
David shook his head lightly, refusing to let himself dwell too much on the chaos that was Sylvia. Instead, he returned his focus to the girl who had just walked away. He could see the way she held herself, how her head stayed low yet proud, how she moved with grace despite the burdens she carried.
"She's something else," he murmured to himself. "A rare gem, indeed. And I can't… I just can't let anything happen to her."
The night air carried a soft chill, and the ripples of the pool reflected the moonlight like scattered diamonds. David remained standing for a long moment, silent, watching Chantel disappear into the warm glow of the house, thinking of ways to protect her, ways to show her that she wasn't alone in this world — not while he was around.
Finally, he turned back to the window, catching a glimpse of Sylvia's furious expression once more. He could not help but smile faintly to himself. For all her noise, all her fury, she could not touch the calm confidence of the girl who had, without a word, captured his attention and perhaps, his heart.
For now, he would wait. He would be patient. But deep down, he knew — this was only the beginning.
And outside, under the moonlight, Chantel walked back to the house, unaware of the storm of thoughts and emotions she had just stirred in the heart of a man who was beginning to care for her more deeply than he would ever admit.