**Diary Entry**
The last rays of evening light seeped through the thick curtains, spilling weary, dull stripes across the expensive Persian rug. The air in the drawing room, usually fragrant with rare flowers and fine perfume, felt heavy tonightcharged with the tension of an approaching storm.
“Again, Katie? Val, do you honestly expect me to babysit her?” Christina’s voice, usually smooth and seductive, trembled with suppressed rage. She stood in the centre of the room, flawless in her silk dressing gown, carved like porcelain, and shot her husband a defiant glare. “She has a nanny! And what about your ex-wifeher grandmother? Why must I drop everything again?”
Val, a man with silver at his temples and a commanding posture, didnt look up from his papers. His calm was deceptive, like the stillness before thunder.
“Weve discussed this, Christina. Twice a month. Two Saturday evenings. It wasnt a requestit was a condition when you married me. Mrs. Wilkins needs a break. And my ‘ex-wife,’ as you insist on calling her, lives halfway across the country and rarely sees her granddaughter. Katie is my blood. And, for the record, shes Olivias daughter. Your old friend.”
He said the last words with quiet emphasis, and Christina flinched as if struck. That connectionmore than anythinginfuriated her.
“Friend,” she scoffed bitterly. “The same Olivia who threw everything away and had a child with some stranger, leaving you to clean up the mess?”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Instantly, she bit her lip, cold dread crawling up her spine. She watched as Val slowly set down his papers and looked at herhis gaze heavy, emotionless. A memory flashed: six months ago, when Katie had spilled juice on the sofa, Christina had grabbed her wrist and screamed in her faceuntil Val appeared. No shouting, no gestures. Just a quiet, deadly warning:
“If you ever lay a finger on her againif anything happens to her because of youIll break every bone in your hand. Slowly. Understood?”
Shed understood. Then, just as now, she knew: this man, whod lifted her from poverty into luxury, didnt love her. He tolerated her. And she feared himdeeply, sickeningly. The thought of returning to that cramped flat, to her drunken parents, was worse than any punishment. Shed locked herself in this gilded cage, and now her jailer was a little girl.
Christina forced tears into her eyes, her voice sweet as honey. “Val, darling, Im sorry I didnt mean it. Its justIm exhausted. I have a doctors appointmentIve waited weeks!”
But Val wasnt listening. He waved her off like a bothersome fly, his attention fixed on the doorway where a childs laughter spilled in. Inside, Katie sat on the playroom floor with Nanny Wilkins, stacking wooden blocks. Vals face transformedthe sternness melted into something tender, almost reverent. He scooped Katie up, spinning her until she shrieked with delight.
Christina watched from the doorway, her heart boiling with icy hatred. She was an outsider. A decorative piece in this lavish world. And as long as Katie existed, she always would be. A cold resolve hardened inside her.
Shed known what she wanted from the start. Beauty was her only weapon. While Olivia had daydreamed about love, Christina had studied lists of wealthy men. ValOlivias father, twenty-five years olderhad power, money, status.
Betrayal? The word meant nothing. Shed seduced her best friends father without hesitation. Olivia had vanished. A year later, Val learned shed had a daughter. Four years after thatshe was gone. An accident.
Grief-stricken, Val poured all his love into his granddaughter. Katie became his world. And Christinayoung, beautiful, his wifewas pushed aside. The child was a living reminder of her treachery, the one obstacle between her and Vals fortune.
The plan was simple. First, she dismissed the vigilant Mrs. Wilkins, replacing her with Ninaa distracted student glued to her phone.
Then, one Saturday while Val was away, Christina watched from the window as Nina took Katie to the park. She waited. And when Ninas phone rang, she pounced.
“Katie, darling, Grandfather asked me to take you somewhere special. Shall we go?”
The girl, trusting “Aunt Christina,” nodded eagerly. Minutes later, they were in the car. In the rearview mirror, Christina saw Nina panic as she realised Katie was gone.
The drive stretched for hours. At first, Katie watched the scenery. Then she whimpered. Then she sobbed.
“I want Grandfather! Take me home!”
Christina turned up the radio, drowning out the cries. She drove until the city was far behind, stopping only at the rusted gates of an abandoned cemetery. Ancient trees cast long, eerie shadows over the weeds and crumbling headstones.
She hauled the sobbing child from the car. The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves.
“Were here,” Christina said. “This is your new home. Grandfather wont find you. Goodbye.”
Katie lunged for the car, but Christina shoved her back. The girl fell, wailing. To silence her, Christina slapped herhard. Katie froze, eyes wide with terror. Christina got in the car and drove away without looking back.
For Valerie, Saturdays were sacred. Every week, she visited the cemetery. Dressed simply in black, a scarf over her hair, she walked through the village, avoiding pitying glances. This ritual was hers alone.
Twelve years ago, shed moved here when doctors diagnosed her ten-year-old daughter, Emily, with a rare bone disease. Her husband had left. Valerie stayed, caring for Emily until the end.
The village had saved her. Neighboursnosy Mrs. Thompson and quiet, kind Ninabrought food, forced her to rest. Slowly, the ice in her heart thawed.
Seven years ago, Emily had died. Most expected Valerie to leave. But she stayed. The grief never left; it just settled inside her, a quiet companion.
Today, as she walked to the cemetery, Mrs. Thompson called out, “Valerie, love, off to the graves again? Youll torment yourself.”
“Just for a little while,” Valerie murmured.
At Emilys grave, she froze.
A little girl sat on the benchfilthy, trembling, a fresh bruise on her cheek. She wasnt crying. Instead, she whispered to Emilys photograph on the headstone.
“…Can I sit with you? Youre Emily, right? Aunt Christina said this is my new home. But its so scary here alone. You wont hit me, will you?”
Valeries heart shattered. This abandoned child had found comfort in her daughters image.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she said softly.
The girl flinched, pressing into the bench. “Who are you? Are you going to hurt me?”
“Of course not, love.” Valerie draped her shawl around the girls shoulders. The child hesitatedthen burst into tears, clinging to her.
At home, Valerie tucked her into bed. Later, the girlKatiewhispered, “Can you call Grandfather? I remember his number.”
Valerie dialled. A mans voice, sharp with panic, answered.
Within minutes, a black car screeched to a halt outside. Val stormed in, collapsing to his knees at the sight of Katie. He clutched her, his relief a tangible force.
That evening, as Katie slept, she murmured, “Grandfather, can we stay here? With Aunt Valerie?”
Val and Valerie exchanged glancesawkward, but moved.
They talked late into the night. He spoke of Olivia, his guilt, his love for Katie. She spoke of Emily, her quiet life, the loneliness. Two broken souls, bound by loss and an unexpected miracle.
The next morning, as they prepared to leave, Katie hugged Valerie fiercely. “Can we visit again?”
Valerie nodded. “Anytime, darling.”
Back home, Val found Christina gonevanished with jewels and cash. He filed for divorce without a second thought.
Life settled. The house grew quieter. Yet, in the stillness, Val caught himself longing. For a humble kitchen, for tired eyes that held kindness.
One evening, Katie studied him. “Youre sad. You miss Aunt Valerie.”
Val startled. “How do you know?”
“I can tell,” she said solemnly. “You always think about her. Why dont you go?”
Her words struck deep. He, a man who commanded boardrooms, was afraidof seeming weak, foolish.
“Youre right, kitten,” he said suddenly, laughing. “Lets go.”
The next morning, Valerie felt restless. She paced, peering down the laneuntil a black car pulled up.
Katie tumbled out, sprinting toward her. “Aunt Valerie!”
Val followed, hesitant. “Valerie” He met her eyes. “Will you have us?”
Blushing, she smiled. “Of course. The kettle
