After Jane finished preparing for sleep, we lay down side by side on the bed. The bed wasn’t very large, so the space between us was narrow.

If one of us turned slightly, it would almost be like hugging.

…If we were married, a bed this size wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“To think I’m sharing a bed with the Miss… Is this really okay?”

“Why? We’ve shared a bed before, haven’t we? Don’t you remember?”

As Jane worriedly responded, I could hear the rustling of the blankets next to me.

With the rustling sound, Jane’s hand emerged to pull the blanket up to my neck.

It made me feel like a seven-year-old kid again.

Oh, of course, I had to pull up the blanket myself at the time.

“I remember.”

After she tucked the blanket around my neck, Jane whispered back in a quiet voice mixed with laughter.

“It was a good memory.”

A smile unconsciously spread across my face at her reply. That day had been a kind of happenstance…born out of my terrible trauma.

To think that it had turned into a good memory wasn’t a bad development.

“So, what were you talking about earlier?”

The moonlit darkness allowed me to feel Jane’s gaze turning toward me.

I slightly turned to face her and then closed my eyes.

“Miss…?”

Her voice reached out to me, but I didn’t open my eyes. I needed a moment to sort out my thoughts.

Should I…. tell her, or shouldn’t I?

While I had acted like I was going to share something with her, now that it came to actually speaking up, I hesitated.

After all, isn’t this a family matter? Family issues should be discussed among family members, not mediated by someone like me, an outsider.

I risked being overly meddlesome, which could mess with things.

Family topics are sensitive, and if someone were to interfere with my family, I’d be very protective…

What if Jane thought I was causing discord… That would be the worst.

My thoughts didn’t last long, as Jane spoke up again while I was mentally wrestling with my own concerns.

“Did you talk about my childhood? About how they’re sorry they couldn’t care for me properly and just piled on responsibilities?”

Wow, Jane, are you a mind reader…?

I slightly opened my eyes. Jane, still staring at me, smiled like a crescent moon when our eyes met.

Terrifying, really. It’s scary to see someone guessing the unspoken answers and smiling like that.

…If you’re reading my mind right now… scream!

Despite the chaos in my mind, the room remained quiet.

Thank goodness. It would have been terrifying if she had actually screamed.

I almost got caught thinking silly thoughts.

“Yes, that’s what we talked about. They looked sad.”

“Oh, my parents. I wonder why they felt they needed to bring that up.”

Jane rolled her eyes and then turned her gaze to the ceiling.

“But… how did you know that’s what the conversation was about?”

“…From the look in their eyes.”

“Their eyes?”

“Yes, their eyes. Affection, longing, regret, guilt. You know, to be a maid, you have to be perceptive. It leads to unintentionally understanding emotions.”

Indeed, both Aidan and Jane are extremely perceptive. It’s sort of an occupational hazard for them.

Having lived a similar life to a maid in my past life, I could deeply relate to Jane’s story.

Surviving from the bottom up requires keen observation.

It’s a skill developed for survival, not one willingly acquired.

“And, whenever I’d send letters to my parents, their replies always included apologies. Always sorry, sorry. And when I think about what they’d have to be sorry for, that’s the only thing that comes to mind.”

With Jane’s bitter comment, we fell into silence. It was a peaceful silence, though I thought I could faintly hear children’s laughter through the thin walls.

I gazed at Jane’s profile for a moment and then closed my eyes again.

My childhood was far from ordinary. In some ways, Jane’s childhood was similarly extraordinary. A child forced to mature too soon, and parents looking on with guilt-ridden eyes.

It won’t be ordinary.

Suddenly, I was struck by the thought that many people live lives like this. Of course, not as extreme as mine might have been.

“Even seemingly normal families carry their own unspoken burdens.”

And that scared me. The extreme home environments that Aidan and I grew up in made us fearful.

Could people like us, who can’t even joke about having a normal childhood, properly raise a child?

The kind of guilt and bitterness Jane’s parents feel….

I didn’t want to give our future child the burdens we carried. I wanted to be a perfect parent.

To give only love, to not inflict any wounds. Can perfect love, perfect happiness, a perfect family…

Does it really exist?

“Jane, do you… resent your parents?”

It felt like a selfish question to ask.

But I couldn’t stand not asking. This was not just for Jane.

The imaginary child. A child between me and Aiden that I sometimes pictured. I wanted to ask that child, too.

Would you resent your parents for not being perfect? Would that make you suffer?

I waited for Jane’s answer with my eyes closed, but her lips didn’t easily part. She must have been searching for her response.

The silence that came filled me with regret for bringing up such a topic. I felt like I had spoken for no reason driven by a sentimentality of the night.

“…No.”

Jane’s voice was calm when she finally spoke. It was steady, unemotional.

A mixture of slight sadness and a trace of amusement, yet remarkably firm.

I slowly opened my eyes. Jane was still staring at the ceiling.

“In truth, it’s not that I don’t feel any resentment toward my parents. They didn’t force me to act a certain way, but they did create the circumstances that made it necessary.

“It’s hard, it’s tiring. I’m an older sibling. The words created a lump in my chest, molding me into an adult before my time. It was a fact that hasn’t changed. Even now, sometimes… I remember comforting my crying siblings but ending up crying together.”

I reached out and took Jane’s hand as she continued in a steady voice.

Suddenly feeling my grip, Jane turned her head from the ceiling to look at me.

Her eyes seemed slightly moist as she blinked and then smiled warmly. She adjusted her grip, clasping my hand properly before she continued speaking, her voice slightly louder than before.

“But that doesn’t mean I constantly hold resentment toward my parents. If I could go back, I would choose not to make those same decisions, and maybe throw a few more tantrums, act more childlike… But I don’t despise my parents for the past.”

“Why?”

I asked, genuinely curious.

How could she not resent her parents after such a past?

“Because we were all new to this.”

We were all new to this.

“I was new to being a sister… My parents were new to raising children, too. Now, I suppose I’m in a position to advise others to let children be children, to not burden them with adult responsibilities, and to allow them their innocence.”

Because we were all new to this.

“My parents were always busy. In this small town, you have to keep moving to make a living. They worked hard to feed and care for us all. Even after a hard day’s work, they tried to make time for us, reading bedtime stories, playing when they could, always telling us they loved us.

“They did their best as parents, both financially and emotionally. They weren’t perfect, but they tried their best.

“How could I just resent them for that?”

They weren’t perfect, but they tried. They earned money to support the family and took time after work to care for their children.

But despite all this, a gap emerged.

Young Jane acquired a burden and was forced to grow up prematurely.

“I think there are inevitable imperfections in relationships between people. My early maturity was a result of those imperfections, and our relationship was…

“Clumsy.

“After all, it was all about love.

“They loved. They loved as best they could.

“When strangers meet, they form a family. But still, they remain strangers with different likes and dislikes. A family is there to gradually adjust those gaps between strangers, respecting and caring for each other. In the end, we’re all bound to be clumsy throughout our lives.”

I was speechless. As Jane spoke at length, all I could do was silently watch and listen.

“Of course, if being clumsy is used as an excuse to force sacrifice on one party, that’s a direct path to disaster.”

Jane’s eyes shone brightly by then.

The carefree, laughing child’s face was nowhere to be found, only a prematurely aged adult remained.

Her clear eyes stared at me.

Her quiet voice seemed to say all of this was for me, making me feel like Jane was not just talking about herself but addressing me directly.

“Miss.”

Jane’s call tightened my throat. A lump surged from deep within my chest, heating up my throat.

“There’s no such thing as a perfect life. No perfect people, no perfect families. So don’t worry, Miss. Whatever it is… don’t be afraid. Just love with all you’ve got.”

Really, Jane was incredibly perceptive. Far too much.

I felt my lips quivering. If I kept my eyes open any longer, I felt tears would start to flow, so I tightly shut them.

Feeling like my innermost fears and weaknesses were completely exposed made me want to hide my face.

Isn’t it true that people feel embarrassed when they reveal their fears and vulnerabilities?

Beyond the darkness of my closed eyelids, stars twinkled, mirroring Jane’s bright eyes as they looked at me.

‘Just love with all you’ve got.’

Saying ‘we were clumsy because it was our first time’ doesn’t justify everything. Neither does claiming every action is right because it was done out of love.

My parents who mistreated me in the past, Aiden’s parents who neglected him, Ian’s parents who abandoned him—not just these extreme cases, but the world is full of people who are fundamentally flawed.

These aren’t just clumsy people; they’re better described as malicious and unfit.

But Jane’s parents were different.

They loved. They loved and were clumsy. They did their best but still flaws emerged.

They regretted their past.

Jane regretted her past, too.

She lamented her childhood, in which she had to mature too quickly. She resented her parents at times. And yet… she loved them.

As they confronted their pasts, some grieved over their own mistakes, while others embraced the mistakes of their loved ones.

They weren’t perfect, but they became a family that loved each other nonetheless.

So…what about me? I don’t feel confident about being a perfect parent, but… still…

It was just one of those nights filled with deep thoughts.

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