They took me upstairs anyway.
Not to my old room.
That now belonged to Seraphina’s future nursery plans, according to the whispers I overheard from the staff.
They put me in a guest room on the far side of the house, with one maid stationed outside the door.
Nathaniel said it was for my own stability.
Marcus said I needed time to cool off.
Julian said nothing.
I sat by the window and stared at the city lights of Crestwood until dusk bled into night.
The room was warm.
The bed was soft.
The curtains smelled like lavender.
None of it mattered.
Some places never stop feeling like cages.
A maid brought in dinner around sunset—a tray with soup, bread, tea.
I didn’t touch it.
Later, I heard soft footsteps outside.
Julian entered first.
He closed the door behind him and stood there like a man who had rehearsed what to say.
He had grown into a powerful, terrifying figure over the years. There was a scar near his collarbone I remembered tending myself, back when he was just a feral teenage boy who flinched every time someone moved too fast.
I had found him half-dead.
Fed him.
Protected him.
Taught him to trust again.
Now he stood in front of me in a tailored black coat, eyes colder than winter.
“Ava,” he said at last, “stop pushing everyone away.”
I kept looking out the window.
He walked closer. “You know Nathaniel has a temper. If you keep provoking him, you’ll only make things worse.”
I turned then.
“And what exactly is worse than what you already did to me?”
His expression tightened. “You keep talking as if we wanted you destroyed.”
I stared at him.
“You did.”
“No,” he said firmly. “We wanted you corrected.”
Corrected.
That word hollowed me out more efficiently than any scream could have.
I smiled without meaning to. “Julian, do you know what they used to call me there?”
He went silent.
Of course he didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t want to know.
None of them wanted details. Details might force them to see me as human.
“There were nights I prayed to die,” I said. “There were mornings I woke up disappointed that I hadn’t.”
His hand twitched at his side.
For one split second, I saw something crack in his calm.
Then he looked away.
“You should rest,” he said.
Coward.
He turned to leave, but I stopped him.
“When you were thirteen,” I said softly, “you had a fever so high you kept grabbing my sleeve and calling me your sister. Do you remember that?”
His back stiffened.
I went on, because I had nothing left to lose.
“You cried and begged me not to leave you. I sat there for two days and two nights. I thought if I loved you enough, you’d never become the kind of person who could throw someone away.”
Julian still didn’t turn around.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost flat.
“People change.”
Then he walked out.
The door shut quietly behind him.
I looked at the countdown.
04:57:02.
Yes, I thought.
They do.