Narration
Coco sat stiffly at the vanity while her stepsister dabbed at her skin with heavy strokes of foundation. The bruises on her cheekbone and neck throbbed under the weight of the makeup sponge. The swollen welt near her jaw felt like a hot coal pressed beneath her skin, but the beige cream muted the ugly purple into a dull shadow.
"There," sneered Amber, stepping back to admire her work. "At least you don't look like a charity case anymore."
Rose hovered behind her, her perfume cloying and sharp as she snapped the compact shut. "Remember," she said, her voice slicing the air like a knife, "you are not to embarrass this family.
The Carlisle's are dignified people. You keep your mouth shut unless spoken to, you smile when necessary, and you do not, do you understand me?, you do not go around parading yourself like you did last night, coming home after dark like some streetwalker."
Coco lowered her eyes. Her throat felt tight, raw from the previous night's shouting, but she murmured, "Yes, ma'am."
Rose's nails clicked against the countertop. "Your father must be turning in his grave, watching the shame you bring into this house." She leaned down, close enough for Coco to smell the wine on her breath. "Do not forget you live here because of me. Without me, you'd be nothing."
The words hit harder than the slap had.
Coco sat still, her hands clenched in her lap, waiting for the storm to pass.
Only when Rose stepped away to fetch her phone did she dare to release a shallow breath. She caught her own reflection in the mirror, a stranger's face stared back.
Smooth skin where there should have been pain. Lip gloss hiding the split at the corner of her mouth. A polished mask, designed not for her, but for the Carlisle's. Her heart sank. Even her escape came at Rose's bidding.
"Get up," Mika said briskly. "You're packing for the week. The Carlisle guy wants you there longer. Triple your rate. Mom said yes."
The words almost didn't register. A week? Away from here?
She rose slowly, legs trembling beneath her, and made her way to the small bedroom she called her own. Amber trailed her, muttering about how unfair it was that Coco always managed to "get attention without even trying."
Coco ignored her. For once, Mika's jealousy didn't sting. The thought of stepping out of this house that has now become her hell, even temporarily, lit a faint ember inside her chest.
She packed quickly, neat stacks of plain skirts, faded jeans, two cardigans, her well-worn sneakers. A single book slipped between the clothes, the one thing that was hers alone.
By the time she zipped the bag, the car waiting outside already rumbled softly in the driveway. Her eyes prickled with tears as she remembered how Mika raided her closet and took what she desired and they sold all her designer clothes they didn't like, to only leave her basic clothes.
The Carlisle mansion felt like another world.
Coco stepped inside the grand foyer, her worn sneakers sinking into the plush rug. The high ceilings, the glint of sunlight streaming through crystal windows, the quiet hush of the house, everything here breathed ease and wealth. For a moment she stood frozen, clutching the strap of her bag, overwhelmed.
Then she heard it, his voice.
"Coco?"
Kyle emerged from the hallway, jacket casually slung over one arm, tie loosened at the throat. His grey eyes swept over her, pausing on her face just a moment too long, as though he could see through the layers of makeup. Something flickered there, concern? curiosity? before his smile softened the edges of his features.
"You're here," he said simply, and something in his tone, quiet but certain, settled her frayed nerves.
She nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. "Your sister texted and said… I should stay the week. For tutoring."
"Yes." His lips curved into a small smile. "Tutoring."
The word hung between them, carrying the weight of the plan he'd carefully set in motion. His sister had played her part perfectly, convincing Rose with the lure of extra money. What Rose didn't know was that Kyle had been the one to suggest it.
The moment he'd seen Coco leave his car the other night, her laugh still echoing in his chest, he'd known he couldn't leave it at that. He wanted more time. Needed it.
"Let me show you your room," he said.
She followed him up the wide staircase, her eyes darting everywhere, the framed paintings, the gleaming railing, the soft carpet muffling her footsteps.
The guest room was three times larger than her entire bedroom back home. Cream-colored curtains billowed at the window, and the bedspread gleamed white as untouched snow.
Coco hesitated in the doorway, feeling both awe and smallness.
"Is it okay?" Kyle asked, watching her carefully.
She swallowed. "It's… beautiful. Thank you."
He studied her a moment longer, his gaze lingering as though he wanted to say more, but he only nodded. "I'll let you settle in. Dinner's at seven. My sister insisted on cooking, it's safer not to argue when she insists."
That drew the faintest smile from Coco, and Kyle caught it, storing it away like treasure.
That evening, when the house grew quiet and the table filled with laughter and food, Kyle found himself stealing glances at her. She was subdued, polite, almost too careful with her words, but every so often he caught the spark in her eyes.
And underneath it all, he sensed the truth, that she had been bruised by something more than life's rough edges.
He didn't want to ask about it, for a fear of bringing her discomfort or shame. At least not yet.
But as the week stretched ahead, he silently vowed: he would use every day, every hour, to ease that mask from her face, to coax her into light, and maybe, just maybe, show her that she was safe here.
On day three, Kairo had gone to a sleep over at her friend's house and the dining room was quiet, the low hum of the lights the only thing filling the space. Coco and Kyle sat across from each other at a small table by the window, the rest of the mansion tucked away behind closed doors. Kairo's absence made the house feel more like theirs for the night.
Kyle pushed a plate toward her. "Don't let me do all the talking and eating. You've got to eat too."
Coco smiled faintly, the first real one that day. "You sure you don't mind?"
"Not at all," he said, his tone casual, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made her feel… seen. For a while, they simply ate, letting conversation trickle naturally between them. Kyle asked about her education, her favourite hobbies, even teasing her lightly about her obsession with late-night snacks. Coco laughed, a quiet, easy laugh that surprised her as much as him.
By the time dinner was done, the night had fully settled in. Kyle stood and held out a hand. "Pool's heated. Fancy a swim?"
Coco hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah… why not."
The water was perfect, warm and inviting against the cool night air. They splashed and laughed, the tension from the day melting into the gentle ripples of the pool. Coco realized she hadn't felt this relaxed in months, not since before everything at home started to feel like a trap. Kyle stayed close, making small talk, teasing her when she pretended to be a better swimmer than she was, and letting her win at the races they improvised.
Eventually, they climbed out and wrapped themselves in towels, the steam from their bodies rising in the night air. Kyle guided her to the living room, where soft blankets and a stack of movies waited.
"Your pick," he said, plopping down on the couch and pulling a blanket around both of them.
Coco curled up beside him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. "I think… something light. Comedy?"
"Done," he said, clicking the remote. The movie started, but Coco found herself only half-watching. Kyle's presence, was calm and steady, it felt different, like a comfort she didn't know she needed.
After a while, Kyle's tone softened. "Coco… can I ask you something?"
She shifted, wary but curious. "Yeah?"
"Your home… after your dad passed… I mean, it wasn't easy, right?" His question was careful, not prying but gentle, giving her permission to open up.
Coco hesitated. The memories clawed at her, her stepsister and stepmother's indifference, the constant fear, the bruises she learned to hide. Her chest tightened, but there was something in Kyle's steady gaze that made her try.
"It… it's complicated," she murmured. "My dad… he left us money, made sure we were set, but… my stepmom…" Her voice cracked slightly, and she looked down at her hands. "She… wasn't… nice. Not to me. Not to my dad's memory either. I've… had to deal with a lot on my own."
Kyle's hand brushed hers lightly. "Coco… you don't have to go through that alone. Not anymore."
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked them back, shaking her head. "I don't… I don't even know if I can talk about it."
"You can," he said quietly, pressing a gentle finger under her chin until she met his eyes. "I'm here. I'm listening. No judgment. Just… me."
Something in her chest loosened. The lump of fear and shame that had settled there for years began to shift, just enough that she could whisper the truths she'd been hiding. "She… she abuses me, she insults me, she hits me. Makes me feel like nothing. Like I'm nothing Kyle. I've learned to hide it… so no one sees."
Kyle's jaw tightened, not in anger at her, but in silent frustration at the injustice of it all. "Coco… I'm so sorry," he said softly. "No one should ever have to feel that. Ever."
For the first time in a long while, Coco allowed herself to cry a little, leaning into his chest. Kyle wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she spoke in fragments, letting the words tumble out without forcing them into order.
When the tears subsided, she felt lighter, like a weight had been shifted, even if it was just a fraction. Kyle's quiet presence didn't push her; it let her reclaim a sense of safety she hadn't felt in years.
"I… thank you," she whispered, resting her head against him again.
"You don't have to thank me," he said. "Just… stay here tonight. We'll get through everything else later. For now… just this."
And for the first time in a long while, Coco felt like someone truly understood her, someone who would stay even when she feels broken and the rest of the world hadn't.
The movie had long since ended, the screen now dark and only the soft glow from the city outside filtering through the curtains. Coco rested her head against Kyle's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it, a rhythm that seemed impossibly comforting after the chaos of her life.
Kyle's hand found her hair, fingers threading gently through the strands as if soothing her there. Neither of them spoke; words weren't needed. The silence was warm, protective, and full of unspoken promises.
Slowly, Kyle bent his head, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was soft, tentative at first, then lingering just long enough to make her heart stutter. Coco responded, her hands finding their way to his chest, pressing closer, needing the closeness as much as he did.
When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling.
"You're safe here," Kyle murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I'll make sure of it."
Coco closed her eyes, letting herself believe it, even if it's only for tonight. "I… I think I can finally sleep," she said, voice small but steady.
Kyle smiled softly and tightened his hold, adjusting the blanket so it covered both of them. Suddenly the world outside, her past, her fears, the weight of everything, felt far away, distant and irrelevant. Here and now, there was only warmth, safety, and the quiet of two people who didn't have to pretend.
Her breathing slowed as she sank deeper into his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing. Kyle's hand traced gentle circles along her back, a protective motion that spoke without words. Soon, even his breaths began to sync with hers, steady and calm, and the house fell completely silent around them.
Coco drifted into sleep, the first real, uninterrupted sleep she'd had in months, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that she belonged somewhere, not just physically, but emotionally, and Kyle stayed awake just long enough to watch her, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, heart heavy with a quiet promise: no harm would ever touch her while he was still alive and near.
Eventually, even he succumbed to the quiet, curling slightly to shield her with his own body as sleep claimed them both. Outside, the world continued on, but inside that small cocoon of warmth and trust, everything was exactly as it should be.