LOGINLucien didn’t call ahead. He didn’t need to. By the time he arrived, the house was quiet in the controlled, deliberate way it always was. The lights were dim but intentional, the space arranged with the kind of precision that suggested nothing was ever left to chance. Selene liked order. She liked knowing exactly where everything stood. Including people. He let himself in without knocking. She was in the living room, seated comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of water resting lightly between her fingers. The television was on, muted, the moving images casting soft light across the room. When she looked up and saw him, she didn’t startle. She didn’t even look surprised. If anything, there was the faintest trace of expectation in her expression. “You’re early,” she said, her tone easy, almost conversational. Lucien closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing just enough to shift the atmosphere. His gaze settled on her, steady and unreadable.
Aira did not go straight home after picking Zayn up. She sat in the car for a few minutes, the engine running, her hands resting on the steering wheel while Zayn talked beside her about something that had happened in class. She responded when needed, nodded at the right moments, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. What she had seen that morning—and what Zayn had confirmed that afternoon—didn’t leave room for doubt anymore. This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t harmless curiosity. This was deliberate. By the time she finally pulled out of the school parking lot, her thoughts had settled into something steady and clear. Whatever this was, she wasn’t going to wait for it to escalate before doing something about it. The apartment felt quieter than usual that evening. Zayn had finished his homework and was stretched out on the living room floor, completely absorbed in a cartoon, his laughter breaking through every now and then in short, careless bursts. Aira stood
Aira woke up with the same feeling she had gone to bed with. Not fear. Not even worry. Just awareness. It sat quietly at the back of her mind, refusing to leave, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. The memory of the previous night replayed in fragments—the kitchen, the silence, the look on Lucien’s face when his phone rang. She pushed the thought aside and got out of bed. There were more immediate things to focus on. By the time Zayn shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep and dragging his feet, breakfast was already ready. “Morning,” she said, setting a glass of juice in front of him. “Morning,” he mumbled, climbing into his chair. For a while, everything felt normal. The quiet rhythm of the morning settled in easily—small sounds, familiar movements, nothing out of place. Until Zayn spoke again. “Mum?” Aira glanced up. “Yes?” He hesitated, like he was trying to remember something properly. “There was a woman at school yesterday.” Aira’s hand paus
Lucien arrived earlier than expected. It wasn’t by much, but Aira noticed immediately. Zayn was still struggling with his shoes, sitting on the edge of the couch with his head bent in concentration when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” he said quickly, jumping up before she could respond. “Zayn—” Aira started, but he was already halfway there. She followed anyway, her steps slower, more controlled. By the time she reached the door, it was already open. Zayn was smiling up at him. “You came early again.” Lucien’s expression softened slightly. “I had time.” It wasn’t a full explanation, but Zayn didn’t question it. He stepped aside, already pulling him in with the kind of ease that didn’t need permission. Aira stood a few steps away, watching. “You’re early,” she said. Lucien met her gaze. “You didn’t say I couldn’t be.” She held his eyes for a second, then moved aside. “Come in.” There was no resistance in her tone this time. No sharp edge. Just awareness. An
Aira didn’t sleep well that night. It wasn’t because anything had gone wrong. That would have been easier to deal with. Instead, it was the opposite. Nothing had happened. And somehow, that was worse. Her mind kept replaying the conversation with Lucien in small, quiet fragments. The way he had stood there. The way he hadn’t argued. The way he had simply… stayed present, without trying to control the outcome. It didn’t match the version of him she had spent years trying to forget. And that unsettled her more than anything else. By morning, she had already decided not to think about it. That decision lasted less than an hour. Zayn brought him up at breakfast. “Is Dad coming today?” he asked casually, spoon halfway to his mouth. Aira paused for a fraction of a second before answering. “No. Not today.” Zayn nodded, accepting it easily, but there was a small shift in his expression—something thoughtful, something expectant. “Tomorrow?” he asked. Aira fo
The meeting wasn’t planned. At least, that was what Aira told herself. Zayn had fallen asleep earlier than usual that evening, worn out from school and the restless energy he carried after seeing Lucien again. The apartment had grown quiet in a way that felt unfamiliar, like something was missing rather than at rest. Aira stood in the kitchen longer than necessary, rinsing a cup that had already been clean. She didn’t like the silence. It gave her too much room to think. Her phone buzzed against the counter. She glanced at it, already knowing who it was before she even picked it up. Lucien. We need to talk. No greeting. No explanation. Just that. Aira stared at the message for a long moment. Under normal circumstances, she would have ignored it. Or postponed it. Or redirected it through lawyers, schedules, boundaries—anything that kept things controlled. But something about today had already shifted too much. Before she could talk herself out of it, she p
Selene did not believe in coincidence. Not when it came to people. Not when it came to timing. And definitely not when it came to children who looked too much like the men they were never supposed to belong to. She sat in her car across the street long after Aria had disappeared into the
Lucien did not call her immediately. For the first time since the thought had taken root, he held himself back—not out of hesitation, but because something in him had shifted from impulse to precision. If the past had been manipulated, then rushing forward blindly would only make him easier t
The envelope arrived in the late afternoon. It was placed neatly on Lucien’s desk, just as the rest of his documents were—unremarkable, clean, easy to overlook. Except he didn’t overlook it. Something about it felt deliberate. Too deliberate. He stared at it for a long moment before pic
Lucien did not go to work the next morning. That alone should have been enough to signal something was wrong. He wasn’t the type to step away from responsibility—not for confusion, not for distraction. But this wasn’t either of those things. This was something deeper. Something unresolv







