Purest Blue

The bathroom was warm and quiet, filled with the soft scent of lavender and vanilla that always seemed to calm Noah's restless thoughts. Steam curled like whispered secrets above the deep marble tub, where the water shimmered under the glow of delicate sconces.

Noah stood hesitantly at the threshold, feeling the strange new awareness in his body. His silver-white hair was damp from a quick splash he'd taken earlier, but now he hesitated, cheeks tinged with a flush that made him feel suddenly shy and exposed.

Alisa, sitting calmly on the marble ledge, looked up and smiled—a smile so gentle it was like a soft breeze brushing past him. Her pale sky-blue blouse caught the light as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Come here, Noah," she said softly, her voice like a lullaby. "The water's warm. It will help."

He stepped into the tub slowly, feeling the warm water rise to his waist, then his chest. The water was like a quiet embrace, comforting but unfamiliar all at once.

Alisa's fingers reached out, resting lightly on his arm. "You seem unsure," she murmured.

Noah swallowed. "I… I feel strange," he admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. "My body… it's changing."

Alisa nodded knowingly, her eyes full of kindness but also a fierce protectiveness. "That's right. It's called growing up. It's a beautiful process, even if it feels confusing."

He looked down at the water, watching the ripples reflect the soft light.

"Sometimes your voice might sound different," Alisa continued, "like it's cracking, or becoming deeper. You might feel restless or… new feelings stirring inside."

Noah's cheeks flushed deeper. "New feelings?"

She smiled softly, brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead. "Yes. Feelings that can be exciting, but also confusing. It's okay to feel that way. You're not alone."

He bit his lip, trying to make sense of it all. "Will it be… scary?"

"No," she said gently. "I'll be here every step of the way. You can ask me anything, no matter how small or strange it seems."

Alisa's hands moved with practiced care as she washed his hair, her touch tender, deliberate—never rushed. Noah closed his eyes, letting the warmth and her calm presence soothe his nerves.

"Tell me," she said quietly, "is there something you're worried about?"

He hesitated, then whispered, "Sometimes, I don't know what to do with these feelings. I'm scared I might do something wrong."

Alisa cupped his face, her eyes steady and loving. "There is no wrong when it comes to growing. It's a journey—one we'll walk together. You'll learn, you'll grow stronger. And I will always keep you safe."

Noah's heart fluttered at the sincerity in her voice, a fragile hope blossoming inside.

When she rinsed the shampoo from his hair, her fingers gently massaged his scalp, grounding him in the moment. "You are so kind, so pure. The world might be harsh, but here, with me, you can be just who you are."

He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "Thank you, Alisa."

She smiled, a secret curve of her lips. "Always."

Wrapped in a soft robe, Noah sat beside her as she brushed his damp hair slowly, the rhythm steady and soothing.

"Sometimes," she said softly, "you might feel restless or confused. That's your body and heart growing. It's okay to feel uncertain."

He nodded, voice small. "Will I always have you?"

"Always," she promised, pulling him close. "Noah, you are my light. I will help you understand every step. No need to rush, no need to fear."

In the quiet of the night, as Noah lay in his bed, he felt the weight of change pressing gently on his young shoulders. But he also felt something else—a fragile thread of comfort woven from Alisa's unwavering love.

For the first time, he thought maybe growing up wasn't something to dread.

It was just another journey, and he would never walk it alone.

The morning sun touched the edges of the curtains with golden softness. I sat at the windowsill, knees pulled close, watching the quiet garden where summer's brightness had begun to fade into the calm light of early autumn.

The calendar on my desk marked the end of summer holidays.

School was supposed to resume today.

I had packed my bag the night before—carefully, like a ritual. Books aligned, pencils sharpened, notebook covers smoothed flat. But now, that bag sat untouched by the door, and the silence of the house felt heavier than usual.

Alisa entered like she always did: serene, composed, eyes warm but unreadable.

"You're awake early," she said gently, brushing a hand through my hair. "Didn't sleep well?"

I hesitated. "I… I want to go back to school."

She smiled, a little too softly. "You don't have to, Noah."

"I know. But I want to."

I watched her as I said it. I expected something—disapproval, or surprise—but instead, she only poured tea into the delicate white cup on my desk.

"There's nothing at school that I can't give you here," she said, placing the cup gently in front of me. "No one understands you like I do."

I felt my chest tighten. "It's not about understanding… I just miss things. Talking to people. Feeling normal."

Alisa knelt in front of me, taking my hands in hers.

"You're not normal, Noah," she said, her voice sweet but firm. "You're something rare. Beautiful. Fragile. I've seen the world beyond our walls. It's careless with people like you."

Her words wove around me like silk. I knew she loved me—there was no doubt—but her love always came with a kind of gravity that made my thoughts feel like falling feathers.

"I promise," she continued, "I'll teach you everything you need. And more. I can make the lessons fun, just for you. No pressure. No distractions. Only safety."

Her fingers tightened gently around mine. I looked down at our hands and felt myself drifting from my own resolve.

"But I—"

"I know you want connection," she whispered, lifting a hand to my cheek. "But connection doesn't mean exposure. I can bring the world to you… filtered, safe, kind."

I wanted to argue. But the words didn't come. Not because she stopped me, but because something in her eyes told me I would hurt her if I said more.

And I didn't want to hurt her.

"I just thought… maybe if I could go, I'd learn how to be more like everyone else," I whispered.

Her smile returned—sad and full of something deeper. "You're not meant to be like them, Noah. You're meant to shine in your own way."

A quiet pause stretched between us. Then she gently guided me toward the sofa, pulled me into her lap the way she always did during afternoon rests, and stroked my hair.

"I'll teach you," she said softly. "I'll be your classroom, your teacher, your world. And when you're ready… truly ready… we can talk about more."

I closed my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of her breathing calm the storm inside me.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe this was better—for now.

But somewhere deep inside, a small voice still whispered: I miss the world beyond these walls.

And her voice, always so gentle, whispered back: The world beyond can't love you the way I do.