'' I understand that this is a lot to process, especially given the circumstances.'' he said, sounding almost rehearsed. ''But there's nothing more to be done, legally speaking. If you have further questions or concerns, you're welcome to contact my office''
Upon finishing what he had to say, the lawyer, reserved and polished, got up from his seat and walked towards the door. Hazel kept her gaze fixated at his back, her chocolate brown hair framed her face that seemed to hold no expression. The air in the room felt stuffy. Inheritance, beneficiary, probate, liabilities… All words that she wasn't familiar with.
Even after the lawyer had left, her gaze stayed on the oakwood door. There were tear stains marking her cheeks, even though she looked numb and emotionless. There was a hollow emptiness in her eyes, their gaze distant and unfocused, like she was there, but not really present. She sat there unmoving for a long time. Only the longcase clock dared to make a sound, its ticking almost mocking, with how time felt like it wouldn't pass.
Until the sound of paper shuffling was heard from the door. Hazel didn't react at the sound for a moment, but eventually got up from her seat and walked towards the sound. On the floor laid an envelope, with a wax seal that drew the eye; bearing an intricate emblem. She reached down to grab it, feeling the papers crisp surface. Without care, she tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter tucked neatly inside.
'Dear Hazel,
I offer my condolences for your loss. Though we have not met, certain obligations persist regardless of familiarity.
Arrangements have been made for you to continue your education at a boarding school in Vancouver. You are expected to depart promptly.
This opportunity is not without purpose, though its full meanining will only become clear in time.
Consider this your path forward.
- Your Uncle, Everett Gray Sinclair'
Hazel read the letter over and over again, struggling to make sense of the words. She knew that she had an uncle that she had never met, but she was not expecting a letter from him suddenly, right after her parents' passing. She looked up at the ceiling, feeling lost. It almost seemed like she was looking for an answer or guidance from above, but the off-white ceiling offered none. While she did seem confused, deep down e knew she had no choice but to comply with her uncle's words.
Still holding the envelope, she glanced back at it, noticing something else residing inside. A freshly printed train ticket.
She sighed and looked at the living room before her; heavy with all that had been left unsaid, the eerie silence settling over every corner. The worn leather armchair, its cushions dented from years of use, remained where it always had. Beside it, the birch table held a half empty coffee cup, cold and long forgotten.
She knew this was goodbye.
The hours since then had passed in a blur. She had picked up her things, though she could hardly remember doing it. Steps taken, doors closed, the view of the house behind her getting smaller and smaller. Now she was standing on the platform with a suitcase in one hand and a wooden box, its surface soft with age, cradled carefully in her arms like something too fragile to put down. The distant whistle of the train cut through the murmur of the crowd. In only a fraction of a moment, her fate, eternally rewritten, had become a current she could no longer fight.