I sat quietly on the sofa, while reading a textbook, a lesson my tutor would go over ter. My eyes moved across the lines, but my thoughts drifted now and then, drawn instead to the gentle rhythm of movement around me.

  Jane was tending to my bed with her usual precision. Every fold, every tuck was done with deliberate care, as though she found purpose in the smallest of tasks. There was something reassuring in the way she worked—steady, unfaltering, almost serene.

  She carried a quiet strength, the kind born from having no choice but to grow up too fast. Jane came from a fallen noble line. Her father had once held the rank of Viscount, but gambling stripped their family of everything—titles, wealth, even dignity. When the debts became insurmountable, their estate was taken, and with it, their pce in society. Her father, overwhelmed by shame, ended his life. Her mother, weakened by grief, fell ill not long after.

  Jane, being the eldest, stepped in. She didn’t get to mourn, not properly. She just… kept going. Took a job. Became my attendant. And from that moment, she never faltered—not once.

  Cecil was different, yet in a way that complemented Jane’s steadiness. She wasn’t born into nobility. She came from a small town and had dreams bigger than the quiet life waiting for her there. Where Jane was meticulous, Cecil was spirited—clever, quick with her hands, always brimming with ideas. It was usually her who came up with new ways to style my hair, or who found a shortcut to make my study routine a bit easier.

  My mother had chosen them both intentionally—Jane, a year older than me; Cecil, a year younger. It was important, she once said, to surround me with people who could understand me, not just serve me.

  As if on cue, Cecil approached, gently gathering my books and materials for my study sessions. We left the room together—Jane at my side, guiding me toward the dining hall, while Cecil moved ahead to prepare the other things I will be needing for ter.

  In their presence, I often felt a quiet sort of gratitude. They each carried their own burdens, yet somehow, they made space for mine, too.

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