Avery's POV
After slamming the door behind me, I stayed frozen on the porch for a moment, breath short.
Anger still pulsed through my veins—hot, raw, uncontrollable.
I started pacing, then stopped abruptly.
My fingers curled around the wooden railing, gripping it so tightly my knuckles turned white. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the cool night air, as if that alone could calm the chaos in my head.
I wanted—desperately—to scream.
That's when the floorboard creaked behind me.
"This is not the time, Daniel, for one of your stupid comments," I snapped without turning around.
A throat cleared.
"Uh… it's not Daniel."
I spun around instantly.
Gabriel stood there.
Still.
Silent.
With that gaze—too calm, too sharp—that stripped you bare without your consent.
"What do you want?" I asked coldly.
"To talk."
He took a step toward me.
"And talk about what, exactly?" I shot back.
"Your mother."
I let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor.
"My mother?"
"I think I've had my fill of half-baked explanations tonight. Or rather… of no explanations at all."
"I know you're angry," he said calmly.
"Oh, really?"
"I hadn't noticed. Thank God you're here to enlighten me," I replied, venom dripping from my voice.
He didn't react.
That annoyed me even more.
"Ava—"
"Don't call me that."
My voice trembled now.
"You don't have that right.
You're no one to me."
I stepped back, the porch bench bumping into the back of my legs.
"You act like you know me.
Like you know what I'm feeling.
But you don't."
My breathing turned uneven.
"Stop. Please."
He moved closer anyway—but slowly, carefully.
"I'm not pretending, Avery."
"Don't say my name."
I raised a hand, as if to stop him.
"You barge into my life with that smug look, speaking in fucking riddles…
and now you want me to believe you actually care about what's happening to me?"
He stopped a few steps away.
"I do."
"Why?" I demanded, my gaze hard.
"Because you crossed my path twice?
Because you happened to be there at the wrong time?"
Silence settled between us.
Then he answered, more quietly.
"Because what's happening to you isn't random."
My heart skipped a beat.
"You don't know anything about me," I whispered.
"Yes, I do. I know enough," he said.
"And that's why I'm here—and why your mother is trying to protect you and your brother."
I clenched my jaw.
"From what?"
He looked away.
My throat tightened.
"She's been hiding something from me my whole life…
and so have you."
He lowered his eyes slightly, as if weighing his words.
"Yes."
That single word hit me like a blow.
"Then say it," I snapped.
"Say it now."
He lifted his head.
"Not yet."
I shook my head bitterly.
"Of course."
I turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
"You're all the same."
"No," he said softly.
"I'm just the one who'll tell you the truth… when you're ready to hear it."
I looked at him again, torn between rage and something far more unsettling.
"And who says I'll trust you?"
Silence.
Then, simply—
"No one."
He took a step back.
"But you will anyway."
---
I stayed on the porch long after he left.
Too long.
The wood was cold beneath my fingers, but I didn't move.
As if moving meant accepting what had just happened.
But you will anyway.
His voice still echoed in my head.
Calm. Certain. Infuriating.
I clenched my jaw.
"Asshole…" I muttered.
The front door opened softly behind me.
I didn't turn around.
"Avery…"
My mother's voice. Careful. Measured.
The way it always was when she knew she was stepping onto a minefield.
"Not now," I said immediately.
She hesitated.
I heard her step outside, then stop at a safe distance.
She'd learned over the years to respect boundaries like that.
Or pretend to.
"Is he gone?" she asked.
I laughed—without joy.
"Did you two plan this together?"
Silence.
A long silence.
That was almost an answer.
I finally turned around.
My mother stood there, straight, her face closed off.
But her eyes shone with an anxiety she couldn't fully hide.
"What did he say to you?" she asked softly.
I stared at her.
Really stared.
As if I were seeing her for the first time.
"Nothing," I said.
"Well… everything and nothing at the same time."
She tensed, almost imperceptibly.
"Avery—"
"He knew, Mom."
A blink.
A fraction of a second too slow.
I saw it.
"He knew you were hiding something from me.
That you're all hiding something from me."
Her breathing shifted.
"It's not that simple—"
"It never is with you," I cut in.
I walked past her to go back inside, unable to face her worried mask any longer.
"You really think you're protecting me?" I threw over my shoulder.
"Or are you just protecting yourself?"
She didn't answer.
But as I climbed the stairs, I heard her whisper—
"You don't understand yet…"
I slammed my bedroom door.
---
I couldn't sleep.
Minutes stretched on—heavy, suffocating.
Every sound in the house put me on edge.
Then, at some undefined hour of the night, I heard voices.
Low.
Muffled.
I sat up instantly.
They were coming from the living room.
I slipped out of bed, opened my bedroom door slowly, and moved barefoot down the hallway, avoiding the creaky floorboards.
Downstairs, a light was on.
Two silhouettes faced each other.
My mother.
And Gabriel.
My stomach twisted.
He stood near the window, arms crossed.
His posture was different from earlier—more tense. Less controlled.
As if something was finally weighing on his shoulders.
"You shouldn't have told her that," my mother said quietly. "Not now."
"She needed to know you're not lying to her for no reason," he replied.
"You didn't help anything."
"I didn't destroy anything either."
He ran a hand over his face.
A nervous, tired gesture.
I frowned.
It was the first time I'd seen him look… human.
"You don't understand," my mother continued. "If she learns the truth too soon—"
"She's already in danger," he cut in. "Whether she knows it or not."
My blood ran cold.
"We should have told her the truth earlier."
"When?" she snapped.
"When she had just lost her father?"
Gabriel lowered his eyes.
For a moment.
"That's true," he murmured.
"But we should have prepared her… before it started again."
Silence crashed down.
Before what starts again?
My mother didn't answer right away.
When she did, her voice was tight.
"We just wanted her to have a normal life.
Or almost."
Gabriel lifted his head.
"I know.
But you can't escape destiny."
I stepped back into the shadows.
This time, I was sure.
They were hiding something from me.
And they were afraid.
But of what?
---