Sunlight filtered dimly through the blinds as Adeline sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose sweater she'd found in one of the boxes. The guest room was still, but the rest of the house stirred with distant footsteps and the clinking of china.
She wasn't staying for breakfast.
A gentle knock sounded at the door, followed by the slow creak of it opening.
"Addy?" The voice was soft, almost sweet.
Hazel.
Adeline slowly lifted her gaze.
Hazel stood in the doorway, her face carefully crafted into the image of a concerned, loving sister. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a neat braid, and her pale robe was cinched tightly at the waist.
"You're awake," Hazel said quietly, closing the door behind her. "I thought I should give you space yesterday. I can't imagine how confusing all of this must be."
Adeline said nothing.
Hazel sat beside her on the bed without asking. "I know we haven't always been… close, but I care about you, Addy. We all do. I was so scared when I heard about the accident. I barely slept."
Adeline's gaze didn't waver. "You look rested."
Hazel blinked, her warmth faltering.
"I know things are weird between you and Luke right now," Hazel continued, her tone measured. "But it's not my fault. He's just… complicated."
"Sure," Adeline replied, her voice flat.
Hazel's smile stretched, though it looked strained. "I'm trying, okay? I want to help you remember who you are."
Adeline stood, crossing her arms tightly. "Forget the performance, Hazel. That script you practiced in front of the mirror last night? Set it on fire."
Hazel's face dropped, her mask slipping.
"You don't need to play the innocent sister," Adeline said firmly. "I've seen the photos. I know. And whether I remember everything or not, I know what betrayal feels like. And you? You reek of it."
Hazel shot to her feet, her face flushed. "You don't know. Luke and I—"
"I don't care," Adeline cut in, her voice sharp. "I don't care about your rehearsed excuses or how long you've been lying. Keep him. Keep the house. Just understand this: I'm done pretending."
The door behind them swung open.
Adeline spun around to see her father standing there, his face flushed, fists clenched. "You ungrateful little snake."
Hazel stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. "I just came to check on her—she's accusing me of—"
"Out," her father growled at Adeline. "Out of my house. Now."
Adeline didn't flinch.
"Want to throw me out? Fine," she said coldly. She grabbed the small duffel bag she'd quietly packed that morning and threw it over her shoulder. "See to it that you pack up the rest of my things from the guest room. The one you stuck me in like a stray."
Her father's glare burned, but he didn't move.
Hazel stepped closer, desperation in her eyes. "Addy, please—"
"Don't call me that," Adeline replied, her voice frosty. "You lost the right."
Without another word, she walked past them. Her father followed, seething. At the door, he yanked it open violently and flung her other box onto the front porch.
"Don't come back," he spat.
Adeline turned on the threshold, the wind tugging at her hair. "Don't worry. I wouldn't return to hell even if I forgot what it looked like."
She walked down the path, her head held high.
No tears. No regret.
The sun broke through the clouds above her as she stepped into the street—finally free.
And smiling.