Chapter Four: A Little Shadow Finds a Home

Ellie turned her key in the lock, feeling Damian’s tiny arms wrapped firmly around her neck as she pushed open the door to her apartment. The room was quiet, filled with the late afternoon glow streaming in through tall, narrow windows that lined one wall. Her home was a reflection of herself: a blend of elegance and disorder, of curated beauty and the gentle chaos of an artist’s life.

As she stepped inside with him, Ellie could feel Damian’s little body relax slightly, though he still held onto her tightly, as if unsure he could fully let go. She adjusted her hold, giving him a soft squeeze to let him know he was safe.

Gently setting him down, Ellie watched as he slowly let his fingers slip away from her coat. His gaze wandered around the apartment, taking in every detail with the kind of quiet wonder that only a child could bring. The living room, the largest room in the apartment, was cozy and eclectic, with walls painted in muted colors that set off her artwork. Paintings and sketches, some framed, others simply taped up, covered every inch of wall space. Shelves overflowed with brushes, tubes of paint, and unfinished clay sculptures, while stacks of canvas and paper lay in one corner, a testament to the hours she’d spent immersed in her work.

Ellie’s furniture was a mix of pieces she’d gathered over the years. A dark, velvet sofa sat by the windows, its worn fabric softened with age, and an intricately carved wooden armchair stood by a small round table near the kitchen. Damian’s eyes widened as he took it all in, his mouth slightly open as if he were stepping into a whole new world.

“Why don’t you sit here, little shadow?” Ellie’s voice was soft, soothing, as she gestured toward the velvet sofa. Damian hesitated, glancing at her for reassurance before climbing up. His legs were too short to reach the floor, so they swung back and forth as he looked around, his fingers tracing the fabric’s texture as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever touched.

With a gentle smile, Ellie slipped off her coat and hung it up before moving to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a wide archway. It was a compact space, filled with shelves lined with spices, jars, and small plants that thrived in the kitchen’s warmth. She rolled up her sleeves, her fingers brushing over the familiar tools as she set to work preparing a simple meal.

Damian’s gaze followed her every movement, and after a moment, he slid off the sofa, padding quietly into the kitchen. He stood at the edge, hands behind his back, watching her with unblinking curiosity. “Are you... a witch?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet filled with awe.

Ellie’s laughter bubbled up, soft and warm. “No, not a witch,” she replied with a smile. “Just a regular lady who likes to cook.”

His eyes widened a bit, and she could see his mind working, trying to reconcile her words with the strange, magical feeling her home seemed to have. She handed him a wooden spoon and gestured to the pot on the stove, filled with a simple vegetable soup. “Would you like to help?” she asked, her voice kind.

Damian nodded eagerly, taking the spoon in his small hand. She guided him, showing him how to stir gently so the soup wouldn’t spill. He leaned over the pot, his face full of concentration, as if the task were the most important job in the world. His cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove, and he shot her a shy smile as he looked up, proud of his work.

Ellie couldn’t help but smile back. She let him stir for a few more moments before she took over, carefully ladling the soup into a bowl. Setting the bowl on the small table, she pulled out a chair for Damian, who climbed up, his legs dangling as he picked up the spoon. He tasted the soup, his eyes lighting up as the warm, comforting flavor filled his mouth. “It’s good,” he said simply, his voice soft but full of contentment.

While he ate, Ellie took a moment to observe him. In the soft lamplight, his curls cast little shadows over his face, and his dark eyes were wide with an innocence that tugged at her heart. She felt an odd familiarity, a sense of protectiveness she hadn’t experienced in so long.

After he finished, she led him to the bathroom, where she filled the old clawfoot tub with warm water. Steam rose, filling the small space with a cozy warmth. She helped him out of his shoes and jacket, his small fingers fumbling with the buttons, and gently guided him into the tub. He sat in the warm water, his face turning pink as he sank down, looking at her with a mix of shyness and gratitude.

To ease his nerves, she playfully gathered some bubbles in her hands and blew them gently, sending a cloud of bubbles drifting over his head. Damian giggled, reaching out to catch them with both hands, his laughter ringing out like soft chimes. Ellie watched him, her heart swelling with a strange warmth she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

With gentle hands, she washed his hair, her fingers moving through his curls with practiced care. She couldn’t help but think of Joshua at that age, and a faint pang of nostalgia surfaced. It had been years since she’d cared for someone so small and vulnerable. Damian closed his eyes, his tiny body relaxing completely under her gentle touch, as if he had finally found a place where he was safe.

Once he was clean and dry, she wrapped him in a soft towel, the edges trailing on the floor as she lifted him out of the tub. He looked up at her, eyes full of trust as she led him to her room. There, she opened an old wooden chest, pulling out a small shirt and pair of pants—clothes that had once belonged to Joshua when he was a boy. She hadn’t thought about these in years, but somehow, they felt right for this little visitor.

The clothes were slightly too big on Damian, the sleeves hanging down past his hands, but he seemed pleased, his face lighting up with a shy smile as she helped him button the shirt. She knelt down, rolling up the sleeves and adjusting the collar, her hands gentle and familiar with the task. Once he was dressed, she guided him to her bed, pulling back the covers and tucking him in as he settled into the soft warmth.

“Will you stay?” he asked softly, looking up at her with eyes that held a mixture of exhaustion and hope.

Ellie’s heart tightened, and she felt an uncharacteristic tenderness as she brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “Yes, little shadow,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a murmur. “I’ll be right here.”

She sat beside him, humming a soft, unfamiliar tune that had once brought comfort to her younger brother. Damian’s eyelids grew heavy, his small body sinking into the blankets as he drifted off, his hand loosely gripping hers. She stayed there, watching his gentle breathing, her mind wandering back to memories long tucked away.

The apartment grew quiet as the night settled around them.

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