Miray’s POV

I stand motionless in the hospital bathroom, staring at the stranger in the mirror. The harsh light beats down, unforgiving, exposing every bruise, every scar, every dark mark left behind by Arthur's hands. My fingers hover over my cheek, tracing the faint purple outline there before moving to the deeper marks that carve paths along my collarbone, my arms, my ribs. They look like reminders of a battle I didn’t choose.

I can’t feel anything. I don’t even know if I want to. There’s this strange emptiness, like I’ve been scraped out and left hollow, staring at skin that doesn’t feel like mine. And yet, I can’t look away. This is me, the “me” he’s left behind, and part of me doesn’t know how to face her.

Then, a quiet knock on the door pulls me from the trance. Elijah’s voice is low and careful, like he’s afraid even his words could push me over an edge. “Miray? You okay in there? We’re ready whenever you are.”

I press my hand to the edge of the sink, grounding myself as the numbness fractures, a dull ache rising in its place. I want to answer him, to say something that won’t make him worry. But my throat feels tight, like the words are caught somewhere I can’t reach.

“I’m fine,” I force out, the words tasting bitter and empty. They’re as hollow as I feel, but right now, they’re the only lie I can manage to keep myself from breaking apart.

Slowly, I reach for my clothes and begin to dress, each movement mechanical, as if I can cover up the scars, hide the marks, bury them under layers of fabric. But no matter how many layers I pull on, it doesn’t feel like enough. They’re still there, reminders that can’t be erased or ignored, a constant reminder of what I’ve survived—and what I can’t seem to escape.

I’m supposed to feel relieved, knowing I’ll be leaving this place, stepping back into the world outside these sterile walls. But all I feel is dread, pressing down on me, cold and heavy. Out there, Arthur still exists, lurking in the shadows. Out there, the world doesn’t know the things I carry inside me.

My hand pauses over my heart, pressing against the fabric, as if I can push all the fear, all the confusion back down. Elijah will see it, I know he will.....

Taking one last, steadying breath, I turn to the door, hoping my face looks strong, even if it’s all just one more layer covering up the scars he’s left behind.

I open the bathroom door, my movements slow and careful, the fresh bandages feeling tight over my skin. Elijah is there, standing by the door, arms crossed, watching me with a softness in his gaze I’m not used to seeing. I step forward, meeting his eyes, and he just looks at me for a second, as if he's committing this moment to memory.

“You know, I’m so proud of you,” he says quietly, his words carrying so much more than I think he means to show. “So fucking proud, Miray.”

The words settle in, filling a space inside me that’s been hollow for too long. I want to say something, but the emotions catch in my throat, so I just manage a small nod, my eyes stinging. “Thank you,” I whisper, the weight of everything unspoken between us saying more than my words ever could.

Soon, we’re walking out of the hospital together, side by side, and stepping into the bright light of day feels like a strange shock to my system. Everything seems too bright, too open, after the sterile cocoon of the hospital. Elijah is there, though, his presence like a steady pulse right beside me, guiding me to the car, keeping me grounded as we drive home.

When we finally pull up to the house, a warm light spills out from the windows, and my heart skips a beat. Lights are strung along the porch, casting a soft glow over the entrance, and as we step inside, I see a banner stretched across the living room: Welcome Home, Miray.

Streamers hang from the ceiling, and the air is filled with this quiet sense of celebration, of warmth and relief. And then I see them—Ethan, Maxim, Lorenzo—all waiting there, their faces lighting up the moment I walk in with Elijah.

They each move closer, gathering around me, each one wearing that same look—the look that says they would do anything to protect me.

I take a shaky breath, feeling my throat tighten. I’ve been through hell, I’ve felt like I’d lost myself, but here, seeing all of this, seeing them... it’s like the pieces start to fit back together.

Without thinking, I step forward, and instantly, they’re all around me, pulling me into a group hug. Arms wrap around my shoulders, a hand grips mine, and someone’s chin rests against my head. I feel myself melt into them, this overwhelming sense of safety filling every broken part of me.

My vision blurs, and suddenly the tears spill over, all the emotions I’ve held back flooding out. They don’t hesitate—they’re right there, wrapping their arms around me in a group hug, holding me, grounding me in their strength, their warmth.

“I missed you all so much,” I manage, my voice breaking. “I didn’t know… if I’d ever come back.”

"We'll never let you go," Elijah says softly, his voice steady with reassurance as his arm tightens around me .

In their arms, I feel whole. I feel like I’m home. But suddenly, Arthur’s voice slithers into my mind, harsh and cold: “They’re not really your brothers, Miray. They’ll turn on you once they know everything. They don’t love you. They feel sorry for you.”

The words hit like ice, slicing through the warmth around me, leaving me feeling hollow. I stiffen in their arms, a chill racing down my spine as the love and comfort they’re giving suddenly feel too fragile, too temporary. I try to shake it off, but the echo of his taunts buries itself deeper, like poison spreading through my veins.

Maxim senses the shift and pulls back, concern knitting his brow as he searches my face. “Miray? What is it?”

I open my mouth to say something, to explain, but the words die on my lips. The fear Arthur planted, the doubts he left behind—it all swells, tangling up inside me, too heavy to speak.

“Talk to us, Rei ” Lorenzo says softly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder, anchoring me. 

But the voice in my head won’t let me believe them. They don’t really want you here. You’re just a burden. A broken girl they pity. Nothing more.

A shudder escapes me, and I take a shaky step back, wrapping my arms around myself as if to hold all the shattered pieces together. “I… I don’t know if you should… I mean, what if…?”

Ethan steps closer, his gaze sharp with determination. “Arthur put this in your head, didn’t he?” he says, anger simmering in his voice. “Whatever he told you… none of it’s real, Miray.”

Elijah reaches out, his hand hovering at my shoulder, waiting for me to let him in. “Don’t believe a single word of his lies, Rei. We all love you.”

I look at each of them, their faces filled with a fierce protectiveness that makes my chest ache. The strength in their eyes, the certainty, it cuts through Arthur’s lies, making them feel smaller, less real. The tears spill over again, but this time they’re different—cleansing, freeing.

“I… I’m sorry,” I manage, the words choked but sincere. “It’s just… it’s hard to believe sometimes.”

Maxim pulls me close again, his arms wrapping tightly around me, unyielding. “Then we’ll keep telling you, as many times as it takes.”

A warm surge fills me, and as I lean into them, Arthur’s voice fades, replaced by theirs—strong, unwavering, real. It almost feels like, just maybe, the scars he left won’t have the last word.

                           Elijah's Pov

As she stands there, wrapped up in a hug, I notice her breathing begin to slow, her exhaustion taking over. She leans into Max slightly, and I realize she’s reaching her limit. Gently, I pull her back and look down to see her eyes growing heavy, the weight of everything she’s endured finally catching up to her.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” I say softly, catching her gaze. She gives a small nod, her face flushed with tiredness, and lets me guide her down the hall toward her room. I can feel my brothers watching as we go, a mix of relief and worry in their eyes. I know they’d all stay up all night if they could, just to make sure she’s okay, but I give them a small nod, signaling I’ve got this.

Once we’re in her room, I help her sit on the edge of the bed. The weight of the last few days presses down on her, and I can see it in her posture, the way she holds herself, her shoulders still tense despite her exhaustion.

I reach for the bottle of medicine on her nightstand, pouring a glass of water. “Here,” I say, handing it to her. “Doctor said these should help you rest and help with the pain.”

She takes the pills with a small nod, looking down at them as if they’re heavier than they really are. For a moment, I worry that the memories will start creeping in again, the things Arthur made her feel—like she’s a burden or something to be ashamed of. But I wait, watching her, and after a deep breath, she swallows the pills and sets the glass down.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice almost too soft to hear.

I give her a small, reassuring smile. “Always, Miray. You don’t need to thank me for this. Get some rest, alright?” I reach over, tucking the blankets around her shoulders, like we used to do when she was younger, back when life wasn’t so complicated. The memory settles over me, comforting me, and I hope it does the same for her.

She closes her eyes, her breathing starting to even out, and I stay by her side until I’m sure she’s drifting off.

Finally, when her breathing is steady, I quietly slip out of the room and head back to the living room, where my brothers are still gathered, waiting. As soon as they see me, they straighten, their faces filled with a mix of worry and relief.

“She’s out for the night,” I tell them, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “It’ll take time, but she’s healing.”

I glance toward the hallway leading to Miray’s room. She’s safe here, at least for now. But I can see in my brothers’ eyes that the threat still lingers, and it hits me how much we’ve all been stretched by this, how far we’ve gone to protect her. They’re holding up, but barely, and I know that if I don’t pull them back a little, the strain could break us all.

“Alright,” I say quietly, “I know Arthur's still on the loose and I’m not giving up until we find him. But right now, I need each of you to stay strong. Take care of yourselves. We’re going to need every ounce of our strength to keep her safe, which means it’s essential for all of you to take a breather." 

They exchange looks, a flicker of resistance in their eyes. I interject before anyone can respond, hoping to ease their worries,“I’m going to keep tracking him, make sure he’s nowhere near her. But right now, our focus needs to be on keeping her and ourselves healthy and stable.”

The room grows still, a wordless agreement forming among us. There’s still a long way to go, but for tonight, we can relax. Together, we are strong, and right now, that’s what matters.

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Hey everyone! ❤️

What do you all think? Should we dive into another wholesome chapter. And are there any specific POVs you’re interested in seeing more of?