Chapter Eleven – Shattering the Glass

The next morning, Amelia found herself at the center of an unexpected whirlwind. It seemed that everywhere she turned, either the Duke or young Ethan was shadowing her, eyes filled with concern. It began with breakfast.

As she reached for a piece of toast, Ethan was there, his eyes wide with worry. "Are you sure you can manage that, Aunt Amelia?"

Amelia smiled warmly at him. "It's just toast, Ethan. I think I'll be alright."

Alistair, seated at the head of the table, watched intently. "Be careful, it's hot," he warned, as if she were handling molten lava instead of a lightly buttered slice of bread.

Amelia chuckled, but the constant vigilance was starting to grate on her nerves. "I'll manage," she assured them, taking a deliberate bite. She had barely swallowed before they were both fussing over her again.

Her patience was tested throughout the day. As she walked down the grand hallway, Alistair was suddenly there, steadying her with a firm hand on her elbow. "Watch your step," he intoned, as if she might trip over the perfectly smooth marble floor.

"Thank you, but I'm quite alright," she replied, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.

During her afternoon tea, Ethan hovered so close that he nearly knocked over the teapot. "Let me pour that for you, Aunt Amelia," he offered, his hands trembling slightly.

Amelia gently took the teapot from him. "I appreciate it, Ethan, but I can pour my own tea."

When it came time for her evening walk in the garden, she found both of them flanking her sides, like guards escorting a delicate princess. She could hear the crunch of gravel under their boots, their worried glances making her feel as if she might shatter at any moment.

Finally, she had enough. Stopping abruptly, she turned to face them, placing her hands on her hips. "Alright, you two, enough is enough."

Alistair and Ethan exchanged confused glances. "What do you mean?" Alistair asked, his brow furrowing.

"I mean this!" she exclaimed, waving her arms for emphasis. "You're treating me like I'm made of glass. It's too much!"

"But...your arm," Ethan stammered, looking genuinely perplexed.

Amelia softened slightly at his earnest concern, but she remained firm. "My arm is fine, Ethan. The physician said so, remember? It's just a small burn."

Alistair's lips pressed into a thin line. "We're only trying to help," he said, his voice low.

"I know, and I appreciate it, truly. But I need you both to stop hovering over me. I'm not going to break."

There was a long, awkward silence. Then, Alistair cleared his throat, looking almost sheepish. "I...I suppose we might have been a bit overprotective."

"A bit?" Amelia raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Ethan looked down at his feet, shuffling nervously. "We're sorry, Aunt Amelia. We just didn't want anything else to happen to you."

Amelia's heart melted at his sincerity. She crouched down to his level, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know, and it means a lot to me. But I need you to trust that I can take care of myself, okay?"

Ethan nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. "Okay."

Standing up, Amelia turned to Alistair, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. "And you, Alistair. Do you think you can manage that?"

The Duke nodded, though his expression was still a mix of concern and reluctance. "I'll try."

"Good," Amelia said with a satisfied nod. "Now, let's enjoy the rest of the day without any more fussing, shall we?"

As they continued their walk, the tension gradually eased, though Alistair and Ethan still cast the occasional cautious glance her way. Amelia couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the crisp evening air.

In the following days, things began to improve. Alistair and Ethan kept their promise, though it was clear they were still adjusting to the new dynamic. Amelia found their awkward attempts at giving her space endearing, if not a little amusing.

One morning, as she was brushing her hair, Ethan popped his head into her room. "Do you need any help, Aunt Amelia?"

Amelia shook her head, smiling. "I've got it, Ethan. But thank you for asking."

He nodded and disappeared, leaving her to her thoughts. A few moments later, Alistair appeared at the doorway, looking as if he had been waiting for his turn.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Amelia put down her brush, turning to face him. "Alistair, I'm fine. Really."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

She walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. "I know you mean well. But remember, I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them. Alistair nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll remember that."

With a final reassuring pat, Amelia returned to her morning routine, feeling lighter than she had in days. As she prepared to face the day, she knew that while they might stumble along the way, they were learning to navigate this new path together. And that was more than she could have hoped for.