— Ethan’s POVWe stayed.Because moving felt like stepping into something’s open mouth.The morning wasn’t a morning.It was just… less dark.Soph was at the sink, rinsing a mug she hadn’t used. Her hair clung to the back of her neck like it was holding on for dear life.Irene sat at the table, knees up, bowl between them, eating cereal like he was somewhere else.Not watching the milk.Watching the air.The red circle in the doorway, still there. Fainter now, like dust pretending to be nothing. But every time I blinked, I thought I saw it breathing.The house… yeah, it was too quiet again. But not empty-quiet. Full-quiet. The kind where something’s already inside.Soph didn’t look at me when she said,“We could leave.”I stared at the circle.“Leave where?”She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. We both knew there wasn’t anywhere that didn’t lead back to here.Irene dropped his spoon.The metal clink was too loud.We all froze.And then, soft. Not even a knock.More like… fingertips
— Ethan’s POVWe stayed.Even though my skin felt too tight. Even though the air in the house had weight to it, like breathing soup.Sophia was still holding the envelope when morning tried to happen. Tried, because the light that came in wasn’t the kind that wakes you. It was thin, gray. Sickly. Like it’d been traveling too long to get here.I was at the kitchen table. Not eating. Not drinking.Just… sitting. One knee bouncing, fingers drumming on the wood like maybe it’d keep me tethered.The envelope sat in the middle.It didn’t look like much now. Just paper. But my eyes kept going to it like gravity was playing favorites.Soph came in barefoot. Hair tangled, oversized sweater sliding off one shoulder. She didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.Her eyes were red. Not from crying, she hadn’t cried. More like she hadn’t slept right in a decade.Irene padded in behind her. Blanket cape again. His bear now missing one ear. I didn’t remember that happening.He didn’t look at the envelope. Or ma
— Ethan's POVThe morning didn’t feel like a morning.It felt like... leftover time. Like something that wasn't supposed to still be running, but was.The sun rose. Sorta. Pale. Distant. Like even it was scared to be here.Sophia hadn’t moved all night. Her body still curved toward mine. Her hand, limp and open, lay somewhere near my ribs. I watched her chest rise. Fall. Rise again. I counted each one.For a second—a mean second—I wondered if it would stop. Not because I wanted it to. God, no. But because that’s how fear rewires your head.Everything becomes a maybe.I got up when the light was thin enough not to feel real.Checked the door. Still locked. Deadbolt still in place. Bat beside it.My fingers brushed the handle like maybe it could tell me something. Where it’s been. Who had touched it.It didn’t.The silence... it was different again. Like someone was listening. Like the house was holding its breath, same as us.Irene padded in, blanket cape dragging behind, rubbing his
— Ethan's POVWe were living our happily ever after. But there was this kind of silence that sits in your throat.That heavy type. Like grief that hasn't picked a shape yet.We were still on the couch. She still wrapped in that strange half-embrace. Sophia's head leaned into my chest. My arm draped across her shoulders. Her fingers tangled loosely in the hem of my shirt. I think I had stopped breathing without realizing.The candle was long out. Just the smell of smoke lingering in the hall way. It was faint but beautiful. No power. Still.And the dark had changed. Not louder, but thicker. Like it had learned something about us.I wanted to move, or say something dumb to cut the weight. Make her laugh. Or at least smirk.But I didn’t.I listened.Nothing.Not the fridge. Not the hum. Not even wind.Just the kind of hush that has teeth in it.Sophia stirred a little. Just shifted. Her fingers brushed my chest. I felt that more than I should have."You think they're done?" she whis
— Ethan's POVThere’s this moment, before full waking, where your body still thinks it’s safe. Where the weight of the day hasn’t climbed on your chest yet. Where maybe... maybe the world forgot you long enough to let you rest.But it never lasts.I opened my eyes slow.Sophia was already up. Not in the bed. Not in the room.Just the shape of her left behind on the sheets. Still warm.I sat up. Blankets twisted. The light through the blinds cut in thin, sharp.The kind of light that makes you think something happened, even if it didn’t.I found her in the hallway.Curled up by the corner window. Legs to her chest. One of Irene’s blankets wrapped around her shoulders like armor made from old things.She didn’t look at me.But she knew I was there."Couldn't sleep?"She shook her head. Barely."Bad dream?""Not even," she said, voice thin. "Just... couldn’t turn it off."I sat behind her. Legs on either side. Pulled her back into me. She fit there like she was made for it.We watched t
— Ethan's POVI woke up with her weight still on my chest.Sunlight smeared thin across the blinds, pale, reluctant. The kind that doesn’t really warm anything. The kind that shows you the dust in the corners.Sophia was still asleep. Barely. That almost-sleep where the body stays but the mind’s already reaching for something.I didn’t move. Just let myself listen.Irene snoring faint down the hall. The ticking of the kitchen clock that always runs a little fast. The fridge humming. The house breathing slow.No knocks.No envelopes.No wind yet.But something felt... off. Like the quiet was leaning too hard on the windows.Eventually she stirred. Curled tighter into me."Did you sleep?" she asked. Her voice still gravel."Some."She didn’t ask more. Just nodded against my chest.We stayed like that a bit.Then Irene's voice broke through. Shouting something about waffles and battle armor.We both laughed, but hers cracked.She got up first. I followed.We moved slow through the kitche