When Helen Came

Third POV:

"I suppose we're stuck here."

Helen shot him an irritated glance. "Well, obviously. But why would it be locked? This room is never locked."

Tom ran a hand through his hair, scanning the room. "Maybe someone's messing around again. It could be a prank. We're probably just trapped for a little while."

Helen exhaled in frustration, turning around to sit on the couch. "Great. Just what I needed today."

She leaned back into the couch, the silence between them settling like a heavy blanket. Tom sat beside her, his posture upright and composed, though his gaze was fixed somewhere ahead, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. After a few moments, he spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet.

"I never got to know how things went with your adoptive family. How did you end up here?"

The question caught Helen off guard. She sat in silence for a moment, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her robes. "They kicked me out," she said bluntly.

Tom turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "They kicked you out?"

"They didn't like my magic," she explained, her voice steady though her words carried weight. "There was no way I could've stayed with them after that. So... in the end, it didn't work out."

Tom's expression didn't change much. "Strangers can't be family after all," he remarked, his tone as neutral as ever.

The words struck her, and her mind reeled back to the first time he had said them to her, years ago. She remembered the way they had made her feel, like a truth she didn't want to believe but couldn't refute. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to shake off the memory.

"By your logic, then, we orphans can't have families at all, huh?" she said finally, her voice carrying a faint edge.

Tom didn't hesitate. "More or less."

Helen tilted her head, regarding him with a mix of curiosity and challenge. "Well, I think you're wrong," she said, a spark of defiance in her tone. "We can have families."

He glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "What makes you think that?"

She shrugged, her gaze drifting to the crackling fire in the hearth. "At the orphanage, almost all of us were together since birth. We grew up together, shared everything, good and bad. Isn't that family?"

He gave a soft scoff, shaking his head. "You have the wrong view of family. Growing up with someone doesn't make them family unless you choose them to be your family."

Helen frowned at that, her lips pressing together thoughtfully. "I don't think it's something you can choose," she said after a pause. "It's something you're given. Whether you like it or not."

Tom's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

"And for example," Helen continued, glancing at him, "you feel like family to me."

He turned his head toward her sharply, his brows knitting together in confusion. "What?"

She smiled at him, a warm, genuine smile that only deepened the crease in his brow. "Yeah. You're just like a brother to me."

The confusion on his face melted away, replaced by a look of pure annoyance. His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned back against the couch. "I'm not your brother," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Helen blinked, then tilted her head, amused by his reaction. "Oh, come on, Tom. It's not a bad thing. It's a compliment!"

"It's not," he snapped, his irritation evident now. "I'm not your brother."