Evening, just after sunset. The living room is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge in the next room and the occasional creak of the heating vent expanding in the walls.
Jean pushed the door open with the back of her hand, a small mug of warmed broth in one and a folded thermometer in the other. The lights were dim, just the soft glow of the table lamp casting a buttery pool of light across the living room carpet. She expected Evan to still be wrapped in a mound of blankets, maybe scrolling half-asleep on her phone, waiting for more tissues or another tea.
But instead… Jean paused at the threshold.
Evan wasn’t alone.
The blanket had shifted since she’d last checked in. Tucked deep into the hollow between Evan’s arm and her chest, nearly hidden beneath the folds of cotton and fleece, was a tiny form. Still. Quiet. Pressed close like a keepsake.
Charity.
Jean didn’t move right away. She just stood there, observing, letting the moment settle before saying anything. Evan’s breathing was slow, shallow, her forehead damp and flushed pink from the lingering fever, but there was no tension in her limbs. Just that protective cradle around the girl she now called Charizard. And in that Little’s curled posture, the slight way her head pressed into Evan’s ribcage. There was no fear.
Only resignation.
And something more.
Jean crossed the room quietly, setting the broth down on the coffee table without a clink. She crouched beside the couch, careful not to wake either of them. Evan stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible and tightening her hold.
Jean’s gaze drifted to Charity again. The girl didn’t even flinch. She was awake, Jean could tell from the subtle tension in her shoulders, but she didn’t try to pull away. She didn’t squirm.
She just… accepted it.
And that was new.
The first few weeks Charity had been here, she had radiated resistance. Not loud, not dramatic, Jean knew enough about pride to recognize the quiet kind. The kind that simmers under obedience like a gas leak waiting to ignite. But now, the edges were duller. The rebellion quieter. The silence less about defiance and more… reflective.
She reached forward, gently brushing a stray strand of Evan’s hair off her forehead. Evan barely moved.
Then, softly, she addressed the smaller one.
“You’re doing good, Charity.”
The Little’s eyes didn’t meet hers, but Jean saw the smallest flick of acknowledgement. A blink. A breath. Enough.
Jean let her fingers hover near the blanket. “She needs you more than she knows right now. You’re helping, even if she doesn’t say it.”
Still no response.
That was okay.
Jean smiled faintly, the kind of smile you wear when you recognize something growing that wasn’t planted by your own hand. The kind of bittersweet expression born from watching a child step into something bigger than either of you planned.
She reached over to the end table, unfolded the light cloth she’d brought, and dabbed gently at Evan’s temple. Charity didn’t move, didn’t interrupt, only adjusted slightly as Jean worked around her.
After a few moments, Jean folded the cloth and set it beside the blanket’s edge.
“When she wakes up again,” she said, more softly now, “wipe her forehead, will you? Just like I did.”
Charity nodded.
It wasn’t much. But it was enough. Something she could do.
Jean stood slowly, giving one last look at the quiet pair on the couch. Evan, curled around a girl she used to admire from a distance. And Charity, once untouchable, now held like a favorite plushie, small, warm, essential.
“Funny how life turns out,” Jean whispered to herself as she turned out the light.
The room dimmed to shadows.
And in the silence, neither girl moved.
The living room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the furnace and the occasional sniffle from Evan curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets. Her hoodie was oversized and pilled at the cuffs, one sleeve tucked beneath her cheek as she dozed, still pale from the tail end of her cold.
Later that day, Jean stood at the edge of the Evan’s room, her coffee cooling in one hand, watching the scene unfold from the doorway.
Charity lay nestled beneath the fold of Evan’s arm, entirely beneath the throw blanket, but Jean knew where she was. The rise and fall of Evan’s chest lifted Charity like a tide. Every few minutes, Evan’s arm would subconsciously tighten, just slightly, drawing the Little closer. Not too much pressure. Just enough to hold. Just enough to say mine.
Jean had seen the whole thing unfold in silence minutes ago. No command. No plea. Evan had stirred in her half sleep and murmured, “Charizard…” with the raspy softness of someone too tired to form thoughts, and Charity had answered. Not with words, but with action, scaling the folds of the couch cushion, ducking beneath the blanket, curling into the crook of the girl’s body like it was second nature.
And maybe now… it was.
Jean exhaled quietly and stepped closer. She gently pulled the edges of the blanket back into place around her daughter’s shoulder. Evan stirred but didn’t wake.
Her eyes caught on a lock of dark brown hair tucked under Evan’s chin. Charity’s head. The rest of her, tiny limbs, little pajama pants, the miniature stitching on her shirt, was buried against Evan’s body, but that lock of hair peeked out like a thread in a tightly woven bond.
She didn’t call attention to it. She just smiled softly and leaned against the wall across from them.
It hadn’t been that long ago that Charity was ungrateful, bitter, and stiff with resistance. Jean remembered the girl’s early days, furious silences, refused tasks, glares cast upward like she still believed herself too big to be held.
But now?
Now she cared.
Not just about obedience, but about Evan. She wiped her sweat. She fetched her tissues. She knew when Evan needed to be left alone and when she needed her. Jean had seen it all, pretending not to, quietly replacing the fever cloth or refilling the little dish with pellets.
Jean sipped her lukewarm coffee.
It wasn’t just that Charity had changed. It was that she’d grown. In this house. In this strange and irreversible arrangement.
Maybe not taller.
But deeper.
Quieter.
More kind.
And as much as that shouldn’t have been possible, Jean couldn’t deny what she saw in front of her: a girl who had been brought low and somehow, somehow, had not only endured it, but started to shine beneath the weight.
Jean didn’t know what the future held. She had concerns, yes, how deeply Evan understood the permanence of her responsibility; how blurred the line had become between affection and possession. But at this moment, she allowed herself a small measure of peace.
Charity shifted slightly under the blanket. Evan let out a soft, whimpering cough and pulled her closer again, murmuring something that sounded like “stay.”
And Charity did.
Jean leaned back, set her coffee down, and whispered to no one, “You’ve come a long way, sweetheart.”
She didn’t know if Charity would ever hear those words.
But she meant them.
Every syllable.
Jean is such a fun if there is a season 2 of this sometime, down the road, I’d love to see more of her. I think the Kingsley family has been good for Charity; she’s really grown as a character.
I think charity is now a good person as a little in the story where she was a bad person as a big. I like she made the change a positive.
Jean is a supporting character so she will kind of maintain her same role.
Glad people like her.
Can you upload the last chapter too ? This 100 page now
It will be available Monday at the regular time. As I have to produce the imagery this weekend.
A) great seeing a picture of jean.
B) Charity found something she never had when she was big, a purpose and true love.
C) I Hope like Jordan she admits she has a better life as a little. She makes a positive difference in peoples lives not negative as a big.
D) I enjoy stories of people being better as littles because in real life some people are better at supporting people then being the focus of attention.
A) I wanted one to show Jean to the readers.
B) true love is probably a step too far but i understand your point.
C) better life is more perception and opinion based. She is a better person as a little.
D) the variety is important as it makes it more impactful when it happens. However each story just like I’m life is different
THAT’S Evan’s mom?! LOL You been keeping her from us this whole time?
Because some reveals need to be saved for the end
Lol
0) 77 chapters is whispers, + 23 chapters of Evans world = 100 chapters of Charity’s story.
1.1) “Jean didn’t move right away. She just stood there, observing, letting the moment settle before saying anything.” I’d probably take a moment enjoying view too.
1.2) “Evan’s breathing was slow, shallow, her forehead damp and flushed pink from the lingering fever, but there was no tension in her limbs. Just that protective cradle around the girl she now called Charizard. And in that Little’s curled posture, the slight way her head pressed into Evan’s ribcage. There was no fear.” They bonded so well.
2) “The first few weeks Charity had been here, she had radiated resistance. Not loud, not dramatic, Jean knew enough about pride to recognize the quiet kind. The kind that simmers under obedience like a gas leak waiting to ignite.” I hope that rebellious nature isn’t gone for good.
3) “It wasn’t much. But it was enough. Something she could do.” And it’s a reasonable task to ask of a little.
4) “Evan, curled around a girl she used to admire from a distance. And Charity, once untouchable, now held like a favorite plushie, small, warm, essential” loved, trapped and possessed.
5) “Every few minutes, Evan’s arm would subconsciously tighten, just slightly, drawing the Little closer. Not too much pressure. Just enough to hold. Just enough to say mine” there’s always a touch of controlling with guardians, even when showing kindness and vulnerability.
6) “curling into the crook of the girl’s body like it was second nature. And maybe now… it was.” I doubt Charity would like that
7) “It hadn’t been that long ago that Charity was ungrateful, bitter, and stiff with resistance.” Ungrateful? Gratitude is earned, if Charity didn’t think it had been, that’s her choice.
8) “But now? Now she cared. Not just about obedience, but about Evan. She wiped her sweat. She fetched her tissues. She knew when Evan needed to be left alone and when she needed her” definitely a plot twist I didn’t see coming.
9) “It wasn’t just that Charity had changed. It was that she’d grown. In this house. In this strange and irreversible arrangement.” Ironic, she had to shrink to grow
10) “a girl who had been brought low and somehow, somehow, had not only endured it, but started to shine beneath the weight.” Don’t tell Charity, she’d rebel just to spite that phrase.
11) “You’ve come a long way, sweetheart.” I love that Jean, (and probably Mark) give Charity pet names and affection like she’s also their daughter
Jean looks at charity like a tiny daughter, I’m guessing grandmother little and charity making a fun trip to buy her fun stuff
0) yup, only one to go.
1) Yeah seeing the scene in front of her and how far her daughter nad her little have come would be worth seeing.
1.2) Evan and Charity have grown closer over the story. Not perfect but they are in a better place.
2) Well she has less to rebel over at the moment. Evan’s not being mean or cruel to her really.
3) Reasonable litlte tasks are something Evan has been pretty good compared to other depicted guardians.
4)I like to think of your version as the subtitled version as the story is being told.
5) She also could just be cuddling her with no real intent beyond care.
6) You are probably right but she also probably doesnt hate it either which is still trowth.
7) You make a good point here. I didn’t think about it like that but you’re right.
8)What did you think was going to happen.
9) Yes, i love the turn of fate that as a little she has become a better human.
10) She would thats her kind of pity.
11) She is part of the family so them being affectionate with her is natual