The Heiress They Couldn't Break (Amelia) novel Chapter 403

**Chapter 403: A Light in the Dark**

Amelia truly possessed a captivating beauty. When she smiled, her eyes formed gentle crescents, radiating warmth that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

As she approached, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent assurance that she meant no harm. Gradually, the boy began to relax, the tension in his small frame easing like a tight spring unwinding.

His earlier fear began to dissipate, and he found himself realizing that she was not nearly as intimidating as the others he had encountered.

Noticing the shift in his demeanor, Amelia’s smile deepened, becoming a beacon of comfort in the shadows of uncertainty.

“Can you tell me now why you’re here all alone?” she asked softly, crouching down to meet his gaze, her voice a soothing melody. “Are you lost? Where are your parents?”

The boy’s bright, star-like eyes, which had once sparkled with a hint of mischief, now dimmed. He shook his head slowly, a gesture filled with unspoken sorrow.

Instead of speaking, he communicated through his hands, using sign language with a practiced ease. “I’m not lost. I’m just bored and came here to play.”

To ensure she understood him, he pulled out his sketchbook and wrote down his thoughts with a delicate flourish.

Despite his tender age, his handwriting was remarkably neat and graceful, each letter formed with care.

Amelia’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

So, he couldn’t speak?

Yet, from her professional perspective, something felt amiss.

Gently, she took hold of his wrist, checking his pulse, then carefully examined his throat and vocal cords.

Everything seemed perfectly normal—no signs of physical injury or distress.

This likely indicated that his silence stemmed from a deeper, psychological struggle, rather than any physical ailment.

His behavior and reactions only reinforced this notion.

Amelia regarded him with quiet sympathy, pondering the circumstances that had led to this delicate, lovely child standing before her.

Whose family did he belong to?

What kind of burdens—both physical and emotional—was he carrying at such a young age?

It was a tough case, indeed.

“Why are you playing alone out here?” she inquired gently, concern lacing her words. “If you’re bored and just wandered off, won’t your family be worried if they can’t find you?”

The boy shook his head once more, his expression growing somber, as if a weight rested heavily on his small shoulders.

“Are you drawing? Did you create this painting?” Amelia asked, her curiosity piqued.

Moreover, she felt an unsettling truth: this boy didn’t genuinely enjoy painting. Instead, he was using it as a means to express feelings he couldn’t articulate.

“You don’t really like painting, do you? You’re just doing something you don’t enjoy,” she said softly, her intuition guiding her words.

As she spoke, she felt a pang of certainty deep within her heart.

The boy’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, the unique colors swirling within them reflecting sadness, helplessness, and emotions far too heavy for someone of his age to bear.

What trials had this child endured to carry such burdensome feelings?

Amelia was not one to easily display pity or maternal softness, especially towards strangers.

Yet, in the presence of this delicate and gifted child, she felt compelled to gently take his hand in hers.

“Don’t force yourself to do what you don’t like,” she comforted him, her voice a tender whisper. “At your age, you should be happy and free. You deserve a joyful childhood.”

“If someone is pushing you, remember this: one day, when you’re strong enough, you can stand up for yourself. You don’t have to be pushed around forever.”

Though she spoke to the boy, it felt as if she were also addressing her own past struggles.

Amelia remembered a time when she, too, had forced herself to wear a smile, striving to bring happiness to her family, desperately trying to fit into a mold that felt foreign.