---
Avery's POV –
After I woke up and the doctor Daniel had called finished his examination, I was finally allowed to go home.
Mom insisted on keeping me at the hospital, but thanks to the doctor, I was able to leave that place at last—the one that had always sent chills down my spine. Daniel and Claire accompanied me, Claire refusing to let me out of her sight for even a single minute since I'd woken up.
Calvin had stopped by earlier in the day, briefly, just to check on me while I was still asleep. Probably because of family issues—or his deadweight of a girlfriend, according to Claire.
As for Jackson… he hadn't come. Not directly. But from what Claire had let slip, he'd been checking in from a distance, worried in his own way, as usual.
Once we got home, everything felt strangely quiet. And yet, there was a softer atmosphere in the house than before, as if simply being together again had brought a bit of warmth back to walls frozen by time.
I went upstairs to freshen up, and that's when I noticed something strange.
The cuts on my hands were gone.
Completely.
Not a mark left. Not even a scar.
I had always healed quickly, but this time… it was different.
Almost unnatural.
A part of me should have panicked, but I couldn't. It was as if my body already knew what it was doing, as if something invisible were repairing me from the inside.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, the door to Dad's office caught my attention.
It was slightly open.
I stopped for a moment, hesitant.
But before I could move closer, Mom's voice called out to me from the living room, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I joined her—and was greeted by a sight that nearly made me laugh out loud.
Claire and Daniel were arguing again over nothing—or rather, bickering like two children. Their voices echoed through the house, but instead of irritating me, it made me smile.
It had been a long time since there had been laughter here.
At least, not laughter that felt so genuine.
Mom was making tea in the kitchen.
I walked up to her quietly. Her shoulders looked more fragile than I remembered. Her once-bright features now bore the marks of exhaustion and grief. And yet, despite those new lines, she was still beautiful.
A calm beauty.
Soft. A little melancholic.
I watched her for a moment without saying a word, until she finally turned toward me.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
I smiled, a little embarrassed.
"Nothing… I just thought you looked beautiful," I murmured, before wrapping my arms around her.
She seemed surprised at first, then hugged me back without a word.
There was something deeply comforting in that embrace.
Mom gave me a tender, slightly tired smile, and suddenly I was certain she was hurting more than any of us.
She had lost the love of her life…
and nearly lost her daughter a second time.
The thought tightened my throat.
But for once, the house was alive again.
And even if that peace felt fragile, I decided to enjoy it while it lasted.
---
The day went on in good spirits, helping me forget the unease I'd been carrying for weeks.
Calvin stopped by again in the late afternoon, just to make sure everything was okay. His visit lifted everyone's mood—especially Claire's.
A little later, I received a video call from Rose Line.
As gentle as ever, she found the right words to reassure me and lift our spirits, just like she always did.
It was, without a doubt, one of the best days I'd had in a long time.
And neither the dream, nor the nightmare, nor even that strange vision from the night before could shake it.
That evening, Claire finally went home after reminding me—yet again—to get some rest.
Mom, exhausted by the day's emotions, fell asleep on the couch with a blanket over her legs.
Daniel, true to himself, was absorbed in his screens, his expression focused.
I watched him for a moment, an amused smile tugging at my lips.
Then my gaze drifted once more to the door of Dad's office.
Ajar.
Still.
I felt my heart beat a little faster.
It had been so long since I'd gone in there.
But that night, something was pulling me toward it.
I took a deep breath…
The air inside felt heavier, saturated with the scent of old paper and polished wood. Pale light filtered through the window, casting golden reflections on the floor, guiding me inward.
And I crossed the threshold.
---