The morning came slow and gray, like the world was waking up hungover.
Aria sat in the estate's massive library, a thick blanket around her shoulders, tea cooling by her side. The letter lay beside her, weighed down with a hardcover book she hadn't even opened.
She'd stayed there all night. Too wired to sleep. Too scared to move.
Someone knew. Someone was watching. And they knew how to get inside.
But when she reached for her tea, she noticed something new beside it.
A photo.
Old. Torn. Worn at the corners like it had been carried around too long.
It was a picture of two girls on a swing set—laughing. Wind in their hair. Smiling so hard it looked like it hurt.
Her and Amara.
She flipped it over. Writing on the back:
"Before the storm. Before everything fell apart."
There was no signature. But she knew the handwriting this time too.
Amara's again.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
This wasn't a joke. This wasn't someone playing games. Someone had been inside the library—while she slept. Someone close.
And they wanted her to remember.
A knock jolted her upright.
Not Xander.
Celeste stepped inside, heels silent on the carpet.
Her face, usually smug and sculpted, looked shaken. She was pale. Not her usual "rich-girl tired." No makeup, no pretense.
"We need to talk," Celeste said. Her voice wasn't sharp this time. It was... scared.
Aria blinked. "I didn't think you talked to me."
Celeste didn't smile. "I wouldn't, if it weren't serious."
A pause.
"It's about Amara."
Time stopped.
Aria stood slowly. Her fingers gripped the armrest for balance.
"What about her?"
Celeste exhaled shakily. "I think she's alive. And I think she's coming back."