Liz’s POV
We stood at the front door.
I didn’t think this would work.
But it was all we had.
Arthur didn’t speak. Neither did I. He just knocked, twice, calmly, and we waited.
Carlos opened the door a second later. His eyes widened for a moment when he saw Arthur standing there, but he stepped aside without a word.
“Come in,” he said.
I followed behind Arthur. Carlos led us down the hallway, past framed photos I knew by heart, toward the sitting room.
My parents were there. My mother sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch, my father standing by the window, arms folded across his chest. They looked tired. Older. Like grief had drained the colour from them.
Arthur didn’t waste time.
“Your daughter isn’t truly dead,” he said.
My mother blinked. My father turned.
Carlos froze.
Arthur’s voice didn’t waver. “She’s here. Right now. In this room.”
No one moved. The silence stretched.
“I’m the only one who can see her,” Arthur continued. “The only one who can hear her. But she’s here. She h
