The days at Bly Manor moved slowly. Time seemed to stretch, like the halls themselves—long, echoing, filled with old silence. Ivy tried to keep herself busy. She helped Flora feed the birds, listened to Kate read books in the sitting room, and wandered the garden paths alone when it got too loud in her head.
But ever since Miles returned, the silence felt... different. Like someone was always watching.
Not in an obvious way. But in a way you feel in your spine before you can prove it.
That morning, Flora had begged Ivy to go walking with her around the property.
Kate stayed inside with Mrs. Grose to help organize the linen closet. Ivy almost stayed too, but something about Flora's bright grin made her feel lighter—like if she didn't go, she'd miss something important.
They walked past the hedges and old statues, following a cracked stone path that curved into the woods behind the house.
Miles came with them.
"Have you seen the lake yet?" Flora asked, skipping over fallen leaves. "It's lovely. But cold. I think a girl drowned in it once."
"Flora," Miles said softly. "That's not something to say before breakfast."
Flora shrugged. "It's just a story. Right, Ivy?"
Ivy blinked, uncertain. "I... hadn't heard that one yet."
Miles walked beside her, just far enough that they weren't touching, but close enough that she noticed. He moved quietly, hands in the pockets of his long coat. Leaves crunched under his boots. Every so often, she'd glance sideways, only to find him already looking at her—expression unreadable, like he was trying to study something behind her eyes.
"Do you like it here?" he asked suddenly.
Ivy hesitated. "It's... different."
"Different good or different bad?"
She didn't answer.
He gave a small smile and looked back ahead. "Most people don't last here."
Flora kept walking ahead, humming softly to herself.
The lake looked still and silver under the pale sky. Trees leaned over the water like watchers, their reflections jagged in the surface. Ivy stood at the edge, arms wrapped around herself. A breeze stirred her hair.
She didn't like the way the place felt. Too quiet. Like it remembered something.
Miles stood a few steps behind her.
"Do you ever feel like the house is alive?" he asked.
She turned. "What?"
"I mean... like it watches. Like it decides who stays and who doesn't." He crouched, picking up a flat stone and skipping it across the lake. "I used to feel that a lot. Still do, sometimes."
Ivy shivered. "You think a house can do that?"
"I think everything that's loved... or hated... leaves something behind."
Flora was dancing in circles behind them, pretending to be a swan.
"She doesn't seem to mind the house at all," Ivy murmured.
Miles didn't answer right away.
"She doesn't see what I see."
Later that evening, Kate found Ivy in the library.
She was curled on a couch with a blanket, staring at a dusty book she hadn't actually opened. Her thoughts were fogged—circling something she didn't want to name.
Kate sat beside her.
"You okay?" she asked gently.
Ivy nodded, but it wasn't convincing.
"I saw you with Miles this morning," Kate added.
Ivy looked over. "What about it?"
Kate shrugged. "He's... unusual. Charming, but quiet. I don't know how I feel about him yet."
"He's just a boy."
Kate tilted her head. "That's what I thought. But there's something about the way he looks at people."
Ivy felt her stomach twist.
"Don't be paranoid," she whispered.
"I'm not," Kate said. "Just careful."
That night, at dinner, things felt off again.
Mrs. Grose was unusually quiet, only speaking when spoken to. Flora chattered about her new doll she named Lily. Ivy pushed her food around on her plate. Kate asked Miles how school was going.
"Dreadful," he said. "I'm done with it anyway."
"You dropped out?" Kate asked.
"Not officially. But they've made it clear I'm not welcome back."
Ivy looked up. "Why?"
Miles smiled. "You'd have to ask them."
His eyes met hers across the table. They lingered.
Kate glanced between them, frowning slightly.
Mrs. Grose cleared her throat. "Some places just aren't meant for certain people. But Bly has always welcomed the children back. It's home, even if it's not perfect."
Miles tilted his head. "Perfect's overrated."
That night, Ivy couldn't sleep again.
The window creaked in the wind. The mirror flickered in the moonlight. She rolled over, pulled the blanket tighter.
Then came the knock.
Soft. Almost like it wasn't real.
She sat up slowly, heart racing. The hallway outside her door was dark. She padded to it barefoot and opened it just a crack.
Nobody was there.
But something lay on the ground.
A single white lily.