The storm had passed, but the house still moaned under its own weight. Wind slipped through the cracks, making the curtains flutter like they were breathing.
Ivy couldn't sleep.
She lay still in the bed that once belonged to someone else—someone she still hadn't asked about. The wallpaper curled at the corners, the silence pressing down on her like a blanket too heavy to move.
The hallway beyond her door creaked softly.
She sat up slowly, heart already beating faster. Just the old house. Just wood settling.
Then it came again—soft footsteps. Not hurried. Calm. Measured.
A quiet knock.
She froze.
"Ivy?" a voice whispered on the other side. "Are you awake?"
She knew that voice.
She got up, slowly crossing the room and opening the door. Miles stood there in the dark hallway, lit only by the faint moonlight leaking through a window at the end.
His hair was messy, and he wore a simple black shirt. Barefoot.
"Sorry," he said, voice low. "I couldn't sleep."
Ivy blinked, unsure. "It's late."
"I know," he said. "But I figured you might be up too."
She didn't answer right away.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
There was something strange in his tone—not demanding. Not exactly friendly either. Just... expectant.
Ivy hesitated, then stepped aside.
Miles entered quietly and sat down on the armchair near the bed, his long legs stretched out casually. He looked comfortable, like he belonged there.
Ivy remained standing.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He looked at her for a moment, then gave a soft shrug.
"I guess I've just been thinking," he said. "About everything."
"Like what?"
Miles leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling. "School. People. That call Kate got."
Ivy's chest tightened.
"So it was true?" she asked, carefully.
Miles looked over at her slowly, his dark eyes unreadable.
"Yes," he said. "It was true."
"Why did you do it?" she asked.
There was silence. Then a sigh.
"They said things," he murmured. "About Flora. About my family. I told them to stop, but they didn't."
He sat up straighter now, his eyes fixed on her.
"I wasn't going to let them keep talking like that. They laughed. And I... I just stopped thinking. I did what I had to."
Ivy swallowed. "You hurt them."
"One of them," Miles corrected. "The others were fine."
He stood now, slowly, walking toward her.
"I'm not proud of it," he said, "but you have to understand—when someone threatens what's yours, when they talk about people you love like that... sometimes you have to protect them."
Ivy stayed still, her back lightly against the cold wall.
"You'd do the same, wouldn't you?" he asked, voice softer now. "If someone said something awful about Kate? Or... about you?"
She looked away.
Miles took another step.
"I think you get it, Ivy," he said. "You're not like them."
Her eyes met his again.
There was something in the air between them—thick, strange, and hard to name. Not fear. Not comfort. Something in between.
"I should go," he said suddenly, his tone gentler. "Didn't mean to keep you up."
But he didn't move just yet. He just looked at her a second longer, his gaze brushing across her face like cold fingers.
Then he smiled—a small, polite smile—and turned back toward the hallway.
"Goodnight, Ivy."
The door closed behind him.
She sat back down on the bed, her hands shaking slightly, though she didn't know why. The room felt even colder now.
Outside the window, a shadow moved past the glass, but when she looked, it was gone.
She didn't sleep for a long time after that.