In Willow village days passed like whispers, and though Grandma Jane's face rarely smiled, her actions spoke a gentler language, despite her indifference, Blessed found herself… settling just fine.
Her days began at dawn, waking up to the rustle of dry leaves brushing the windowpane and the scent of burning wood from the kitchen. She'd rise, wash her face in the icy water Jane kept in a yellow basin outside, and sweep the compound with a stiff broom taller than her. The work was hard, but she liked the rhythm of it. It made her feel useful.
Grandma Jane didn't hover or scold, and although her voice was gruff, her eyes—those pale gray eyes—held something that Blessed had never known from Maria: acceptance.
One evening, after dinner—boiled potatoes and smoked fish—Jane surprised her by bringing out a new sturdy winter coat.
"Found it in among some old pile in my room," she said, avoiding her eyes. "Used to belong to my niece. I thought it might fit you."
Blessed's chest tightened and she felt warmth in her heart no one has ever thought of her in this way her mom only gave her the old clothes she had worn she has never received any new clothes since she could remembered , she cried as she collected the cloth with both hands . "Thank you… Grandma."
Jane paused, and then gave a small nod. "Sleep well, now." She went into her room
That night, wrapped in the coat's faint scent of mothballs and lavender, Blessed felt something she hadn't felt in a long time—warmth that wasn't just from a blanket.
---
School remained difficult. The uniform itched, the boots pinched her heels, and she often sat alone at lunch. Gossip floated through the air like pollen.
"She's that girl from the city, right?"
"Didn't her parents abandon her?"
" I heard she's a child bride"
Blessed ignored them. She focused on the numbers on the chalkboard, on spelling words right, and memorizing dates from the history book. She told herself it didn't matter what they said.
But still… the loneliness clung to her like static.
Until Kate came crashing into her life.
Literally.
One windy Tuesday afternoon, after school as she was going home a ball suddenly flew across the schoolyard and struck Blessed right in the back. She stumbled and nearly fell but she steadied herself, and was ready to keep walking—but a blur of denim overalls and messy blond curls barreled toward her.
"Oh my god! Are you okay?" the girl gasped, coming to a stop at her front.
Blessed blinked. "I'm… fine."
"I'm sorry for that it wasn't intentional, I didn't mean to hit you I was a bad aim from my part." The girl apologized, brushing the dirt from Blessed's shirt without permission. "You're the new girl? From Creek Village right?"
"Yeah," Blessed said warily.
"I'm Kate." She stuck out a hand and smiled. "Sorry about the ball once again. I'm also new here, have heard so much about you and I will like to be your friend"
Blessed stared at the hand. Then slowly shook it.
From that moment on, Kate stuck to her like glue.
She was everything Blessed wasn't—loud, fearless, and unapologetically wild. She wore patched-up jeans and bright red sneakers that didn't match. She climbed trees during recess and once challenged a sixth-grade boy to a footrace just because he said girls couldn't run.
"I don't care what anyone says about you," Kate told her one afternoon as they sat under a crooked apple tree near the school fence, sharing a packet of cheese crackers. "People are dumb. And their parents are worse."
"Why do you care?" Blessed asked.
Kate shrugged. "You need a friend. And I want to be that friend".
Blessed didn't say anything, but inside, she already accepted Kate.
---
At home, Grandma Jane noticed the change.
"You smile more these days," she said one evening as they shelled peas together.
Blessed looked down. "I made a friend."
"Good," Jane said. "I just hope she is a good person."
"She is," Blessed replied. "But she very fun filled and active girl and I like her."
A small chuckle escaped from Jane. The first Blessed had ever heard. It was dry, short, but real. She would replay that sound for days afterward like a favorite song.
In those quiet evenings—shelling peas, folding laundry, or scrubbing the floors together—Blessed felt something building between her and Grandma Jane. Not the forced sweetness Maria used to serve with a cold stare, but a simple kind of care. Honest. Unspoken.
Sometimes, she'd catch Jane watching her—just watching—with a look that wasn't judgment or pity.
It was something softer.
And though Jane never said it, Blessed knew.
She was wanted.
---
Still, some nights, when the wind whistled too loud or the sky looked too much like the one she left behind, Blessed would stare at the cracked ceiling and wonder about her parents and brother. Thinking if they were missing her if she will ever see them again.
Now, under Jane's patched-up roof, she didn't have to earn her place. She just… existed.
And it was enough.
---
One Friday morning, as Blessed got ready for school, she stood in front of the mirror in her tiny room. Her uniform was clean and pressed, her hair tied in two neat braids. She slipped on her coat and turned slightly, checking her reflection.
She still looked like the girl who had been left behind.
But something was different now.
She didn't feel like a burden anymore.
She felt like someone beginning again.
And as she ran to catch up with Kate waiting by the gate, waving a half-eaten sandwich in one hand and yelling something about frogs in the science lab in the village high school which she overheard from a neighbor, Blessed grinned,
Jane stood at the gate and watched Blessed leave with her friend, the little girl has always been quiet and secretly yearning for acceptance even though she feels she will be rejected. But seeing her like this, she feels happy for her hoping she will gradually come out of her shell and self-blame.