Andrew should have known peace wouldn't last. The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that feels suspicious. Honey lingered warm in the air, low and grounded, wrapping the bedroom in a sleepy haze. Early morning light filtered through the tall windows, brushing gold across Andrew's hazel eyes as he blinked awake.
For once—No crying. No dramatic squealing. No urgent baby monitor crackle. Just stillness. Beside him, Tina was awake. That should've been the first red flag. She was staring at the ceiling. Not blinking. Silver hair splayed around her like frost in sunlight, icy blue eyes disturbingly focused. Andrew narrowed his eyes immediately.
"Why are you thinking?"
He asked flatly. Vanilla mint drifted toward him—bright. Excited. Dangerous. She slowly turned her head. Her expression was innocent. Too innocent.
"Andy."
She said softly.
"No."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You're glowing."
"That's rude."
"It's accurate."
