Chapter 8: University..?
Dinner had ended hours ago. The house, once warm with laughter and stories, had settled into a calm, sleepy silence.
Hope and Asher had drifted off beside Elena in the living room, their small bodies curled up peacefully under a thick, knitted throw. The glow of the TV cast soft, rhythmic flashes on their sleeping faces — a cartoon still playing on mute.
Miles stood beside Elena in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, methodically drying the last of the dishes. They moved in quiet coordination — like they’d done it a hundred times before, like this was always home.
"You didn’t have to help," Elena said softly, looking at him with a tired smile.
Miles shrugged. "Not much of a guest anymore, am I?"
She smiled wider at that. No longer was he the ghost at her doorstep. He was her son — again.
The house slept. Outside, a breeze whispered through the trees. Inside, silence clung to the walls like a watchful ghost.
Miles lay on his back in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of the ceiling fan the only sound above his steady breath. His body was still — but his mind, sharp and ever-wakeful, refused rest. Sleep never came easy.
Then — a buzz.
His encrypted phone lit up with a single pulse.
[Monica: File delivered. Celina Wraithbourne. Highly sensitive. Read in full.]