Lucien stood by the window, the familiar chill of the orphanage settling into his bones as he gazed out at the gloomy streets. The rain tapped lightly against the glass, a soft rhythm that was strangely comforting. It had been the same scene for as long as he could remember: the gray sky, the dull buildings, the endless line of children playing in the muddy courtyard. None of them were truly happy, but they all wore masks of indifference, as if they had long since accepted their fate.
He clenched his fists.
He was different, though. Or at least, he liked to think so. Even in the bleakness of his life, there was something deep inside him, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. He had no family. No one who cared for him. But the idea of **belonging** kept him moving forward. It kept him from sinking too deep into the despair that so often gripped the others around him.
His **foster mother**, a kind-hearted woman named Mary, was his only anchor. She wasn't perfect, and the orphanage wasn't a place anyone would choose to call home, but Mary had given him something that most others lacked: **attention**. She wasn't like the other staff who treated him like just another problem child to be managed. She'd taken him in as her own, offering him small moments of care that he held onto dearly.
"Lucien, dear, come here," she called, her voice soft but firm from the hallway.
Lucien hesitated for a moment before reluctantly pushing away from the window. He hated being called like that, but he knew better than to ignore her. He could feel something different in the air today, something subtle but powerful. The way Mary spoke to him now wasn't like the usual daily routine. There was something more to it.
Stepping into the small, dimly lit kitchen, Lucien found Mary standing at the counter, a gentle smile playing on her lips. She looked tired — older than he remembered her, perhaps even more worn than the last time he saw her, but she was always like that. She had an aura of warmth, despite the weight she carried.
She wiped her hands on the worn apron she always wore when cooking, her eyes gleaming with something Lucien had never quite seen before. **Excitement.** It was the kind of look that made his stomach churn with anticipation.
"Lucien, I've got news," she said, her voice almost shaky with the energy of it. She motioned for him to come closer, her eyes locking onto his as she took a deep breath. "You've been selected, Lucien. You're finally going to be adopted."
He froze. For a moment, he wasn't sure he heard her correctly. His mind buzzed with the words, **adopted**. The idea had always seemed so **far-fetched**. No one ever wanted a child like him. An orphan with no family, no history, a nobody. The children who got adopted were the ones with bright eyes, the ones who could smile without it feeling like a mask.
"Wait—what?" Lucien asked, his voice barely a whisper. He stepped closer, suddenly afraid to hear it again in case it was a dream. "I—I'm being adopted?"
Mary nodded, her smile widening. She looked so proud of him in that moment, and something stirred deep within him. He had always thought of adoption as some far-off dream, a **story** told to children, never something that could actually happen to him. But now—now, it was real. The very idea of it caused his chest to tighten in ways he couldn't describe. A sense of excitement, yes, but also **fear**. Could he actually believe it? Could he allow himself to hope?
"You deserve this more than anyone, Lucien," Mary continued, her voice softening. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've seen how hard you've tried. I know this life hasn't been easy for you, but there's someone out there who's ready to love you, just like I do."
Lucien nodded quietly, though his mind raced. His heart pounded in his chest. He had always been waiting for this moment, for someone to finally choose him. To finally give him a **home**.
"Who are they?" Lucien asked, his voice trembling slightly. His hands clenched at his sides, as if he were afraid this dream might slip away.
"They're a good family, Lucien," Mary answered, her eyes filled with warmth and certainty. "I've heard about them. They're kind-hearted people, and they've been looking for a child just like you. They'll take care of you. I know it."
Lucien felt his legs almost give out beneath him, and he steadied himself by gripping the edge of the table. The idea of being adopted—of finally belonging—felt like a weightless **dream** coming true. He had never known such joy. The thought of leaving this place behind, of being part of a family that wanted him, was like a vision in a distant, impossible future.