Caring for an older teenager wasn't new to him -- after all, Clive had been somewhere around Nunnally's age, perhaps a few years younger, when Elwin had lost custody of both him and little Joshua. But with Nunnally, he had discovered early on that it was a very, very different scenario. Not only did she face situations that Clive would not, but she had lost her parents to death, rather than losing one through the court of law. As such, the CEO and philanthropist tried his best to make sure she was both happy and comfortable under his care, while trying to form a bond with her, and without overstepping any potential boundaries -- the most glaring one of all being not assuming the role as her father, rather than her guardian. The situation was, in short, delicate, and there were times where he didn't know how to proceed.
Still, he did want her to know that she wasn't alone. Because while his grief was still strong, hers would be infinitely worse given the circumstances of her losses. Maybe, just maybe though, they could strike up a friendship to alleviate some of their loneliness(or maybe he was presuming too much and projecting too much onto his charge, and she was far more fine than he was).
That's why Elwin often tried to do little things for her, just to try and make her smile -- if only for a moment. This was one of those times. The plate of chocolate chip cookies weren't exactly the best anyone had ever baked; the edges were a bit too crispy, with the sizes of the cookies varying from one to the next. But there had been an earnest attempt, which he hoped would be enough to make up for his lack of backing prowess. (Cooking was one thing he could do, but baking? Not as well.)
Holding the treats in one hand, the man knocked quietly on Nunnally's bedroom door, before calling out: "Hey there. I made you something, if you're interested?"
It was odd. She was lying on "her" bed in "her" room and was staring at the ceiling. So known and so new in a way. She was here, under Elwin Rosfield’s custody, for some time already. Nunnally wasn’t sure how long it was. She felt guilty, but she was also happy she was h e r e. It was a safe place (she thought), and the girl felt well taken care of. Perhaps even loved…?
But she also was ashamed. Ashamed that she found herself so comfortable here. That she was happy about her new life. There was that guilt overwhelming her. Nunnally should have m i s s e d her father more. Despite all what happened, despite all the expectations put on her weak shoulders, the expectations she could hardly fulfill, her father did care about her. Did love her, although probably couldn’t show it in a way Nunnally wanted. Or always dreamt about.
It wasn’t even that Nunnally didn’t miss him. But she liked her new life. The quiet support that Mr. Rosfield offered. Would her life be different if her mother didn’t die when she was just a little girl? If her mother was able to given her father a son he always wanted? Even now she remembered how they were fighting, probably assuming she was sleeping.
Nunnally's gaze slowly turned from the ceiling towards the pile of books on the table. She’d still fulfill her father’s wishes; or at least she’d try. Perhaps it would even be easier now, when her every step wouldn’t get scrutinized. Criticized. Suddenly, she had that thought that she didn’t have to anymore. Now she could become whoever she wanted. She wouldn’t have follow her father’s steps. But she would. She was always a good girl and she couldn’t forget her duties.
Would Elwin Rosfield have any plans for her, too? She’d try to do her b e s t, too. To fulfill whatever wishes he might express. She knew he lost custody over his sons. Should she consider them brothers in a way? She had met Clive briefly, and liked that boy…or perhaps she should already call him a man…? She had also met Anabella. Mr. Rosfield's former wife. She knew these type of women. And Nunnally couldn’t understand what a man like Elwin could possibly see in a woman like Anabella.
(Though if she were honest with herself she could have found a reasonable reply to her own question).
She sighed, and forced herself to sit on her bed. She really needed to study. Otherwise, she would not be the best. She needed to be the b e s t. It was only the first place that ever was appreciated by her father. But before she made any further moves, Nunnally heard a soft knock.
Made her something?
She opened a door only to see Mr. Rosfield with a tray of cookies. Her lips formed into a smile; and she had all forgotten about the promise she had just made to herself. She nodded and excitedly took one of the chocolate cookies. They didn’t look like the best cookies anyone had ever baked, but they were tasty.
“Did you bake them yourself…?” – she asked after she finished chewing on a her first bite, inviting the man to enter the room. It was his home after all – “...for me…?”
She didn’t remember anyone had ever made something so sweet for her.
“They’re really good.” – she added with a smile – “Should I prepare the cinnamon milk to go with them?” – she wasn’t good with cooking, but she could do a thing or two.
@fire-branded
