The morning began in silence.
Mist hung low across the grass outside Bly Manor, curling against the windows like ghostly fingers. Ivy stood by the window, her breath fogging the glass as she stared out at the driveway. A crow landed on the gatepost, cawed once, then flew off again. The world felt paused — like it was waiting for something.
Or someone.
Kate was downstairs, talking with Mrs. Grose over tea. Ivy hadn't gone down yet. She didn't want to. Something was off in her stomach, not like hunger, but something tight and twisting. Flora hadn't come to knock like she did yesterday morning. The house was quieter than usual. Almost like it was holding its breath.
Ivy turned away from the window and slowly made her bed. The sheets smelled like lavender and something old, like a forgotten closet. She hadn't slept well. The cracked mirror across the room had caught the moonlight all night, casting warped reflections across the walls.
At exactly ten, the sound of a car engine cut through the silence.
From the top of the stairs, Ivy watched.
A black car rolled slowly up the driveway, stopping in front of the main entrance. Flora came running out of nowhere, practically flying down the hallway in her excitement.
"He's here! He's here!"
Kate emerged from the sitting room, raising an eyebrow. "That must be her brother."
Mrs. Grose was already walking to the front doors, her hands folded. Her posture was stiffer today. A little more guarded.
The car door opened.
A tall figure stepped out — lanky and dressed in a dark coat, his dark, curly hair a little wild from the wind. He didn't look like a kid, not really. There was something older in his posture, the way he stood with his hands in his pockets, his chin tilted slightly like he already knew people were watching.
"Miles!" Flora squealed, running up to him.
He crouched down to hug her, lifting her briefly off the ground. "Little beetle," he said with a small laugh. "Still a chatterbox, I bet."
Ivy stepped back as his eyes flicked toward the house — as if he felt her watching.
Just for a second.
She turned and walked quickly down the hall, heading back to her room before anyone noticed.
They met an hour later.
Kate was unpacking groceries in the kitchen when Ivy walked in. Mrs. Grose was slicing apples at the counter. Flora was coloring in the corner. And he was sitting at the table.
Miles.
He looked up as Ivy entered, his expression unreadable — not cold, not exactly warm either. His eyes were dark, like the kind that see too much. Ivy tried not to stare, but there was something about him that made it hard to look away.
"This is Ivy," Kate said, gesturing with a smile. "My younger sister."
Miles stood, slowly and politely. "Pleasure," he said, offering his hand.
Ivy shook it, just for a second. His hand was warm, but his grip was soft, like he wasn't really holding on.
"I didn't know you had a sister," he said, looking at Kate but then glancing back to Ivy. "How long are you staying?"
"Just a while," Ivy said quietly.
He tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing with faint amusement. "Good."
Then he sat back down like the conversation had never started.
Ivy looked at Kate, who looked a little confused herself.
Mrs. Grose didn't say a word.
Later that afternoon, Ivy went walking in the garden. She needed air. The rooms felt smaller now that he was back. Not in a loud way — not like he took up space — but in a quiet, invisible way. Like the energy had changed. Tilted slightly.
Flora skipped along beside her, holding a stick and tapping it against the trees.
"I missed him," she said suddenly. "It was boring without Miles. I hope he stays this time."
"Why was he sent away?" Ivy asked, instantly regretting it.
Flora didn't look at her. "Because people don't understand boys. Especially ones like him."
"What do you mean?"
Flora shrugged. "He just doesn't like rules. And sometimes he says things that make grown-ups nervous."
Ivy stopped walking. "What kind of things?"
Flora looked up and smiled brightly. "Games! Wanna play hide and seek?"
Before Ivy could answer, Flora had darted behind a bush.
That night at dinner, everyone was seated again at the long table. Flora talked the most, as always, about the garden and the frogs and the hide-and-seek game she almost won.
Miles barely spoke.
He watched.
Sometimes Kate. Sometimes Mrs. Grose.
But mostly, Ivy.
Not in a rude or obvious way. Just glances — small, quiet ones. When she wasn't looking. But when she turned her head, she could always feel it. Like he had just looked away.
At one point, Flora mentioned a doll she had lost under the stairs.
Miles smirked. "I told you not to bring them there. That place is for bones and shadows."
Mrs. Grose gave him a sharp glance. "That's enough."
He held up his hands like a joke. "Sorry. It was just a story."
Flora giggled. "I like bones and shadows."
Ivy barely touched her food.
That night, Ivy lay awake again.
She could hear footsteps in the hallway. Slow ones. Barefoot.
She sat up in bed, heart pounding.
But the sound faded.
Just the old house creaking. That's all.
She got out of bed and walked toward the mirror. The crack seemed deeper tonight. She leaned in, staring at her own reflection.
And for a moment, she swore she saw someone standing behind her.
But when she turned around...
Nothing.