The bathroom light hummed softly.
Steam gathered along the mirror as Lilly stood under the water, eyes closed, letting the noise drown her thoughts.
Stay calm.You're inside enemy territory.Breathe.
She rested her forehead against the cool tile.
That was when she felt it.
A shift.
Not sound.Not movement.
Presence.
Her eyes snapped open.
"N—!"
She slipped back instinctively—
And froze.
Nana was there.
Standing calmly beneath the water like she had always belonged there.
No sound.No warning.No ripple.
Just… Nana.
Lilly's heart slammed so hard it hurt.
"I— I didn't hear—"
Nana tilted her head slightly.
"You were thinking," she said. "People stop listening when they think too hard."
Lilly swallowed.
How long has she been here?
Her arms crossed over herself on instinct.
Nana's gaze drifted — not lingering, not intrusive — and stopped at the faint lines along Lilly's shoulder.
Scars.
Old.Carefully hidden.Never spoken about.
Nana's expression didn't change.
"They bother you," she said.
Lilly let out a weak breath.
"They're ugly," she muttered. "I know."
For a moment, only water spoke.
Then Nana turned slightly.
Lilly's breath caught.
Across Nana's arms, shoulders, back — scars layered over scars.Clean cuts. Ragged ones. Burns. Marks that had healed wrong and never bothered to apologize.
Not displayed.
Just… there.
"Scars," Nana said evenly, "are proof."
Lilly stared.
"Proof of what?"
"That you were hurt," Nana continued."That you lived.""And that you didn't stop."
She met Lilly's eyes through the steam.
"They don't make you ugly."
She turned the water off and reached for a towel.
"They mean you're still surviving."
The word settled deep.
Surviving.
Lilly didn't realize her hands were shaking until Nana gently placed the towel over her shoulders.
Then Nana spoke again.
"You wondered how I knew you don't have parents."
Lilly stiffened.
"I didn't dig," Nana said, as if reading her thought."I looked."
She tied her hair back slowly.
"You walk the same way Noah does," she continued."Careful. Like you're not expecting anyone to catch you if you fall."
Lilly's throat tightened.
"Noah's parents," Nana said quietly, "are always away."
She paused.
"The number of times he's seen them… you could count on one hand."
Lilly's chest hurt.
"He learned early not to wait for people," Nana said."So he helps whoever is in front of him instead."
The image of Noah saving the kitten flashed in Lilly's mind.
Then Nana looked at her — truly looked at her.
"Take care of him," she said.
It wasn't a request.
It wasn't a command.
It was… trust.
Before Lilly could respond, Nana turned and stepped out of the bathroom.
No sound.
No lingering presence.
Just steam… and silence.
Lilly stood there for a long time after the water stopped.
Touching the scars on her arm.
For the first time, she didn't hide them.