Third Person POV

The sunlight peeked through the curtains, streaking Miray's room with warm golden hues as she sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the duvet. She had barely slept, her mind a battlefield of fragmented dreams and the lingering image of the mysterious car from the previous night.

It was nothing, she tried to tell herself. Probably a neighbor. Or someone lost. But no matter how hard she tried to rationalize it, her stomach remained a knot of unease.

“I should tell Elijah,” she whispered to herself, biting her lower lip as her eyes darted toward her bedroom door. Her brothers always insisted she share anything unusual, no matter how small, and the idea of keeping this to herself gnawed at her conscience.

She stood up abruptly, pacing her room as the debate raged in her mind. What if it was something? What if it wasn’t?

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her heart felt heavy, caught between the nagging fear and the desire to not be a burden.

Finally, with a deep breath, she nodded to herself. “I’ll tell him,” she said firmly, heading for her bedroom door.

Her resolve faltered slightly as she reached the staircase, the familiar scent of something delicious wafting up from the kitchen. The sound of Lorenzo’s deep laughter mingled with Ethan’s lighter tone reached her ears, a comforting melody in an otherwise chaotic morning.

Miray descended the stairs cautiously, her fingers trailing along the banister. Her nerves calmed slightly at the sight of Lorenzo standing by the stove, his apron tied casually around his waist as he flipped pancakes. Ethan stood beside him, holding a bowl, animatedly talking about something she couldn’t quite catch.

“Just a little more vanilla,” Lorenzo was saying, his tone instructive but patient.

Ethan rolled his eyes, grinning. “You sound like a pastry chef.”

“Better a pastry chef than you burning the house down,” Lorenzo retorted with a smirk.

Miray hovered at the edge of the kitchen, her lips quirking into a small smile at the familiar banter. She almost forgot why she had come down until the faint memory of the car flickered back into her thoughts, sharpening her focus.

“Hey, morning, Miray,” Lorenzo greeted, glancing over his shoulder.

Ethan turned, beaming. “Morning, sleepyhead! We saved you some batter, but only if you promise not to critique my cooking.”

Miray chuckled softly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Good morning,” she replied, her voice lighter than she felt.

Before she could step further into the kitchen, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of Elijah’s voice.

“I don’t care how long it takes!” Elijah’s voice was sharp, commanding, and laced with frustration as he spoke into his phone. “You told me this would be resolved days ago, and yet here we are.”

Miray froze mid-step, her eyes darting toward the doorway. Elijah walked in, his suit jacket slung over his arm, his tie slightly loosened as though he’d yanked at it in frustration. His brow was furrowed, his free hand gesturing as he barked orders into his phone.

“I don’t want excuses,” he continued, his voice clipped. “Fix it, or I’ll find someone who can.”

Miray’s stomach sank as she watched him, the lines of exhaustion clear on his face despite his commanding demeanor. He ended the call abruptly, shoving the phone into his pocket as he exhaled heavily.

“Rough morning?” Lorenzo asked, his tone casual but tinged with concern.

“You have no idea,” Elijah muttered, running a hand through his hair before straightening his posture and glancing toward the kitchen. His gaze softened slightly when he saw Miray, though the weariness in his eyes remained.

Miray hesitated, her earlier determination faltering under the weight of her brother’s clear exhaustion. He looked like he’d been carrying the weight of the world, his usually sharp and composed demeanor cracked at the edges.

Her mouth opened to speak, the words “I need to tell you something” resting on the tip of her tongue. But the image of the car, shadowed and distant, seemed trivial compared to the frustration and fatigue radiating from Elijah.

“Miray?” Elijah prompted, his tone gentle but curious.

She forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. I was just… saying good morning.”

Elijah’s expression softened further, and he stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder briefly. “Good morning, little one,” he said, his voice quiet but warm.

She nodded, her heart sinking as she let the moment pass. It’s nothing, she told herself again, pushing the memory of the car further into the back of her mind.

“Breakfast smells good,” Elijah said, glancing toward Lorenzo and Ethan, his tone lighter as he tried to shake off his earlier frustration.

“We’re trying not to burn it,” Ethan quipped, earning a playful swat on the arm from Lorenzo.

Miray watched the exchange silently, her unease lingering even as the warmth of her family surrounded her. She took a deep breath, hoping she’d made the right choice in staying silent, even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that she hadn’t.

---

The sun hung low in the sky as Miray stepped into  the school building, her bag slung over her shoulder. She spotted Evie and Jay waiting by the lockers, Evie leaning against the wall while Jay scrolled through his phone.

Evie’s face lit up when she saw Miray. "Mirayyy” she exclaimed excitedly, standing straight and waving her over.

Jayden pocketed his phone and offered a small smile. “Hey, Miray.” His voice was calm, friendly, but she still felt the faint awkwardness of new friendships hanging between them.

“Hey,” Miray replied, offering a tentative smile as she approached.

Evie looped her arm through Miray’s, grinning. “Okay, so, we have a plan. Jay and I were thinking—”

“Wait, wait,” Jay interrupted, holding up a hand. “This was your idea, not mine.”

Evie rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine, I was thinking, why don’t the three of us hang out after school? You know, do something fun, blow off some steam. Maybe go to the arcade, grab some food. What do you say?”

Miray blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh…” she stammered, glancing between the two of them. She wasn’t used to this—casual invites, lighthearted plans. For a moment, she considered saying no, her mind already spiraling with excuses. But Evie’s hopeful expression stopped her.

“I don’t know,” Miray said hesitantly. “I’d have to ask my brothers…”

Evie groaned playfully. “Come on, your brothers will be fine with it. Just tell them you’ll be with us. What could possibly go wrong?”

Jay gave Evie a pointed look. “She just said she has to ask them. Let her breathe, Ev.”

Miray smiled faintly, appreciating the balance between Evie’s pushiness and Jay’s patience. “I’ll ask during lunch,” she said finally.

“Perfect!” Evie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You’ll see—it’ll be fun.”

Jay smirked. “No pressure or anything,” he added, earning a swat on the arm from Evie.

At lunch, Miray found a quiet spot and pulled out her phone. Her fingers hovered over Lorenzo’s contact for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring. “Rei? What’s up?”

“Hey, um…” Miray hesitated, twisting a loose thread on her sweater. “Evie and Jay asked if I wanted to go out after school with them. Just, like, to the arcade and a cafe or something.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Miray could almost hear Lorenzo weighing his options. “Do you want to go?” he asked finally.

Miray bit her lip, considering. She wasn’t sure. It was strange, unfamiliar, but a part of her wanted to try—wanted to feel normal, even if just for a little while. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I think I do.”

Lorenzo’s voice was warm when he replied. “Alright, then. Be safe, okay? Maxim will pick you up afterward. Just send him your location.”

Relief washed over her. “Thanks, Enzo.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone light but steady. “Have fun.”

The arcade was bustling with energy when they arrived, bright lights and loud music filling the space. Evie practically dragged Miray from game to game, her enthusiasm infectious, while Jay trailed behind, a steady presence amid Evie’s whirlwind energy.

Miray found herself laughing—a real laugh—as Evie tried and failed to win a stuffed bear from the claw machine. “This thing’s rigged,” Evie declared, glaring at the machine as if it had personally offended her.

Jay smirked, stepping up to the machine. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

With a calm precision that only made Evie groan in protest, Jay managed to snag the bear on his first try. He handed it to Evie with a mock bow. “Your prize, madam.”

Evie pouted for half a second before grinning and clutching the bear dramatically. “Fine, you win this round.”

They moved on to air hockey, where Miray and Evie teamed up against Jay. It was chaotic, filled with laughter and shouts of mock outrage, and for a brief moment, Miray forgot about everything else.

Their final stop was a small cafe tucked away on a quiet street. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries, and the three of them settled into a cozy corner booth.

Miray took a sip of her drink, savoring the sweetness as Evie chattered on about her latest favorite TV show. Jay chimed in occasionally, his remarks dry but oddly funny, and Miray found herself relaxing into the rhythm of their conversation.

When Evie excused herself to the restroom, Miray and Jay were left alone at the table. The quiet was comfortable, but Miray couldn’t help the faint awkwardness that crept in.

Jayden broke the silence first. “So, you having fun?”

Miray nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Good."

She smiled, pulling out her phone to text Maxim, asking him to pick her up. She quickly sent him her location, and his response came almost instantly: "On my way, shortcake."

Miray’s lips twitched into a smile at the nickname. She quickly sent him her location and leaned back in her seat, glancing out the window.

When Maxim and Angelo arrived, Miray saw them before they saw her. Maxim’s cold demeanor was unmistakable, but it was Angelo who truly captured her attention. His sharp features, dark hair, and intense gaze stood out, and for a moment, her stomach fluttered inexplicably.

“Your ride’s here,” Jay said, nodding toward the door as the two men walked in.

Maxim smiled when he saw Miray, but Angelo’s expression remained unreadable, his gaze flickering to Jay before settling on Miray.

As they approached the table, Miray stood, offering a small wave. “Hey.”

Maxim pulled her into a quick hug. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing at Angelo, who stood a step behind Maxim, his hands in his pockets, his gaze sharp and assessing.

“Who’s this?” Maxim asked, nodding toward Jay.

“This is Jay,” Miray said, introducing them quickly. “And that’s Evie,” she added as Evie returned to the table.

Jay stood and offered a polite smile, but Angelo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression turning colder.

When it was time to leave, Miray hugged Evie and Jay goodbye, and Angelo’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Angelo’s gaze lingered on Miray for a moment longer before he turned and followed Maxim out, his movements deliberate, calculated.

As they walked to the car, Angelo finally spoke, his voice low and sharp. “Interesting friends you’ve made.”

Miray glanced at him, frowning slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, his tone flat. But the look in his eyes said otherwise.

---

Later that evening, Miray and Elijah made the drive to the therapist’s office in strained silence. The air between them felt heavy, the quiet pressing down as the miles stretched on.

 Elijah’s jaw tensed as he stole occasional glances at Miray in the rearview mirror. She sat motionless, her hands gripping the hem of her sweater so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her gaze was distant, locked onto the blur of passing buildings outside the window. She seemed far away, lost in a mental fog thick with uncertainty.

Elijah pulled into the parking lot of a modest building, its pale stone exterior softened by climbing ivy. It didn’t look intimidating—if anything, it was disarmingly quaint—but Miray’s shoulders tensed as the car came to a stop.

“You ready?” Elijah asked gently, his voice carefully even.

Miray hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. “Do I have a choice?” she muttered under her breath, her tone sharp enough to sting but laced with underlying fear.

Elijah’s fingers flexed against the steering wheel, a sigh escaping his lips. “We all have choices, Miray,” he said, a little more sharply than he intended. “But this one isn’t about me or your brothers. It’s about you.”

She didn’t respond, instead stepping out of the car with the kind of reluctant resignation one might reserve for walking into a lion’s den.

Inside, the waiting room was painted in warm, inviting hues of cream and soft green. A cheerful receptionist greeted them, directing them to sit until the therapist was ready. Elijah sank into a chair beside Miray, his presence a steadying force as she scanned the room, her nerves on full display.

“Miray Kingston?”

The soft voice startled her, and she looked up to see a young woman standing in the doorway. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, with honey-blonde hair tied into a neat braid and kind hazel eyes that sparkled like flecks of gold in sunlight. Her olive-green dress, simple yet elegant, flowed gracefully as she moved. Her smile was gentle but confident, radiating warmth in a way that made it hard to look away.

“I’m Sophia Bennett,” the woman said, her voice soft yet steady, like a calming melody. “You can call me Sophia if that feels more comfortable. Are you ready to come in?”

Miray glanced at Elijah, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I’ll be right here when you’re done,” he promised.

Reluctantly, Miray rose and followed Sophia down the hall, her steps hesitant, as though the weight of her memories made it difficult to move. The therapist’s office was cozy, with plush chairs and an oversized window that let in gentle sunlight. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, soothing but not overwhelming.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Sophia said, gesturing to one of the chairs as she took her seat across from Miray.

Miray hesitated before sitting, her posture stiff, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her nails pressed into her skin.

“No rush,” Sophia said gently, her eyes warm with understanding. “Today is just about getting to know each other a little.”

Miray swallowed hard and gave a tight nod, her lips pressed into a thin line.

For the first few minutes, Sophia's questions were light, almost conversational. What were her favorite books? Did she have a favorite memory from childhood? What did she like to do for fun?

Miray’s answers were clipped and cautious, her gaze darting around the room as if she were searching for an escape route.

As the session progressed, Sophia’s questions edged closer to the heart of Miray’s turmoil, though she tread carefully, her tone steady and non-intrusive.

“Is there anything that’s been weighing on you lately?” Sophia asked after a long pause, her head tilted slightly as she studied Miray’s reaction.

Miray’s throat tightened, her chest feeling like it was bound in steel chains. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling, almost inaudible.

“That’s okay,” Sophia said, her smile unwavering. “Sometimes just being here is a good start. We can take things as slowly as you need.”

The rest of the session passed in a haze of hesitant words and long silences. By the end, Miray felt emotionally wrung out, though she hadn’t said much at all.

The car ride home was heavy with tension. 

“So,” Elijah began carefully, his voice strained with effort to keep it calm, “how do you think it went?”

“Talking to some stranger isn’t going to change anything. I don't want this.” she snapped, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

“ A part of you knows you need this. Stop denying it Miray.” Elijah shot back, his frustration beginning to seep through. Miray scoffed, her gaze never leaving the window. 

Elijah exhaled sharply, his patience visibly fraying. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, parking abruptly. Turning to face her, his eyes burned with a mix of anger and pain.

“This isn’t about changing what happened, Miray,” he said, his voice lower now but no less intense. “This is about giving you a chance to heal. To breathe. To be something other than what Arthur and Adrian tried to reduce you to.”

At the mention of those names, Miray flinched, her body curling in on itself as if the words had struck her physically.

Seeing her reaction, Elijah’s expression softened, the fire in his eyes dimming to a smolder. “I hate that you had to go through any of this,” he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. “But pretending you’re fine isn’t going to make it go away.”

“I’m not pretending!” Miray shouted, her voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. “I just… I don’t know how to talk about it. And I don’t want to......I don't want to relive it again and again."

Elijah’s shoulders sagged, his frustration melting into a deep sorrow. “I know it’s hard, Rei,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to do this alone. Let us help you. Let someone help you.”

Her tears spilled over, and she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

Elijah reached across the console, his hand covering hers, warm and steady. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promised, his voice gentle but firm.

The rest of the drive was silent, both of them lost in their thoughts. When they finally pulled into the driveway, Elijah reached over to gently squeeze Miray’s hand before letting her go. She wiped her eyes, steeling herself as they headed inside, the unspoken weight of their conversation lingering like a shadow between them.