Chapitre 3: 3. A Glimmer of hope
Clara opened the door and stepped aside, letting Thomas and Emily Bennett enter the room. They both looked a little nervous but also hopeful. They were dressed neatly, their clothes more formal than usual, showing how important this moment was to them. The room was quiet, and James was sitting by the window, looking out at the sunlight streaming in. He wasn't paying attention to the couple who had just entered.
Thomas smiled gently, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Emily also smiled warmly, but she stayed quiet, giving James time to adjust. They slowly stepped into the room, both feeling the quietness of the space. The room was simple, with pale blue walls and a few toys scattered around.
James glanced over at them but didn't show much emotion.
(Image of Mr. and Mrs. Bennett)
Clara smiled softly at him and walked over, crouching down next to James. Her voice was gentle and comforting. "James," she said, "These are Thomas and Emily Bennett. They've come to meet you today."
Mr. and Mrs. Bennett stepped a little closer. Mrs. Bennett smiled warmly, and Mr. Bennett too smiled, although a bit nervously. But his voice was calm when he spoke. "Hello, James. We're really happy to meet you."
James looked at them for a second but didn't say anything. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thought, and he didn't gave off the usual excitement most kids would have in this situation.
(Image of six year old James)
James' mind wandered back to his past as Clara introduced the Bennetts. When her words reached him, his thoughts slipped away from the present and into memories from long ago, back to a time when his life was anything but peaceful. His eyes lost focus, staring blankly as everything around him seemed to fade into the background.
In his previous life, James lived in a bad neighborhood where life felt like a constant struggle. His father was an alcoholic, stumbling home drunk almost every night, yelling and angry. James had learned early that life was about surviving, not enjoying. Sometimes his father would hit him, but it was usually with his fists or feet when he was drunk, and it didn't last long.
But his mother was way worse. She was always in a bad mood, and whenever she was upset, she'd hit him. It wasn't predictable like his father's anger. His mother could use anything she found—a stick, a belt, or even a spoon—and sometimes she wouldn't feed him for a day or two. But as painful as the hunger was, it was better than being beaten.
James couldn't understand why his parents even had him. They seemed so unhappy, so full of anger. Why have a child if you didn't want to care for them? He sometimes wished they had just sent him to foster care so he wouldn't have to live through all the pain. But he was stuck, trapped in a home where the love was missing, and the hurt never stopped.
When James was twelve, he couldn't take it anymore. He ran away from home, and for the first time in his life, he laughed. It was a laugh full of joy and relief, because he was finally free. But what he didn't know was that life on the streets wasn't easy.
The streets were a harsh place. James quickly learned that there was no one to take care of him out there. He had to fight for every meal and every bit of shelter. He begged for food and slept in alleyways, always afraid of being robbed or hurt. But James refused to give up. He did whatever work he could—washing windows, helping in restaurants, anything that would help him survive.
He worked hard, never turning to crime, even though he saw other kids who did. He knew that wasn't the life he wanted. Slowly, his hard work paid off. After a lot of struggles, James was able to rent a small room for himself. Eventually, he found a job as a dishwasher in a small restaurant, and over time, he saved enough to open his own restaurant.
It wasn't a big restaurant, but it was his, and it gave him a stable life.
He didn't have a wife or kids, but James didn't mind. What mattered to him was that he had built a life from nothing. He had worked his way up, and he was proud that he hadn't turned out like his parents. He had refused to become bitter and angry like they had been.
Clara noticed James wasn't ready to talk, so she kept her voice calm and encouraging.
"James," she said, "Mr. and Mrs. Bennett want you to be a part of their family. They've been hoping to meet you for a long time." She paused, letting the words settle. "Why don't you talk to them for a while? They're very nice people, and they'd love to get to know you."
As Clara's voice brought him back to the present, James felt a mix of emotions. The Bennetts seemed nice, kind people, well at least on the surface.
He blinked, trying to shake off the confusion, as Clara smiled at him. He wasn't sure what the future held, but one thing was clear—he wasn't that scared child anymore. He had survived and built a life, and maybe, just maybe, there was room for something more.
James took a deep breath, letting go of the feelings from his memories. He quickly got off the chair and turned to face the Bennetts. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to be rude. I was just thinking about something else." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "It's nice to meet you too."
Clara smiled warmly at his effort. Standing up, she said, "I'll let you three talk for a while. Take your time." She gave James a kind nod before quietly leaving the room, giving him and the Bennetts space to talk.
James watched as Clara left the room, leaving him alone with the Bennetts. He observed the couple, who seemed to be in their early forties. They looked respectable and caring, but James couldn't stop the creeping paranoia in his mind.
'Haa, my parents turned out like that... doesn't mean all parents are like that,' he told himself, trying to suppress the doubts formed from his past experiences.
As he was lost in thought, Mrs. Bennett stepped forward and pulled a chocolate bar from her purse. She offered it to James, her hand trembling slightly with nervousness. "I heard that you like this one, right?" she asked, her voice kind but nervous. James stared at the chocolate for a moment before taking it. "Thank you," he said softly.
The nervousness in her eyes melted away, replaced by a radiant smile. It was a genuine happiness that seemed to light up the room, and James couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth.
The three of them spent the next hour together. Mr. Bennett shared a funny story about his childhood, trying to ease the tension in the air, while Mrs. Bennett gently asked James about his interests, careful not to pry too deeply. James found himself relaxing, their gentle kindness chipping away at the walls he had built around himself. For a moment, it felt nice—different, but nice.
As their time together drew to a close, Mr. Bennett cleared his throat and knelt slightly to meet James's eye level. His voice was calm, yet there was a hint of nervousness. "James," he said, "we'd like to adopt you. We'd love for you to be part of our family. No pressure—you can think about it if you want."
Both of them looked at James with hopeful anticipation, their eyes filled with sincerity. James hesitated, his mind flashing back to the harsh life he had endured back home and on the streets. A saying he had once overheard from an elderly man who had helped him came to his mind: "Kindness should always be repaid, and debts must never be forgotten."
Without thinking, he blurted out, "Please adopt me, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. I will definitely repay you in the future."
As soon as the words left his mouth, James froze. He realized how odd it sounded, especially coming from a six-year-old. He glanced at the couple, whose expressions had shifted to a mixture of shock and confusion.
James sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with himself. 'Why did I say that?' he thought.
But before he could say anything else, Mrs. Bennett knelt down and gently took his hands in hers. "Oh, James," she said softly, her voice warm and soothing. "You don't need to repay us. We're not here for that. We just want to give you a family and a home where you'll feel safe and loved."
Mr. Bennett nodded in agreement, his kind smile returning. "We want you to be happy, James. That's all that matters to us."
James stared at them, as he tried to come up with words, to reply to them but he couldn't. For the first time in a long time, a tiny part of him dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new—a life not defined by survival, but by belonging.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone