There were days where nothing happened.
No voices behind the walls. No locked doors. No orders.
Just stillness.
The kind of stillness that made Serene wonder if she was going mad or if the house had simply… forgotten her.
Then came the knock.
Soft. Rhythmic. Deliberate.
Not Roman.
Too playful.
Serene opened the door.
Lelo stood there in a yellow nightgown, holding a tray with toast and fruit and tea steeped the way she liked it — just like always. Behind her, the hallway looked endless.
"I made breakfast," Lelo chirped. "You can pretend we're a real family today."
Serene didn't move.
"I thought we were already pretending," she whispered.
Lelo smiled wider.
---
They sat in the sunroom.
A place Serene hadn't seen before — bright and warm, glass walls looking out onto a garden that seemed to grow in loops. Flowers she didn't recognize. Trees too still.
Lelo fed the rabbits in the corner pen, then brought out a brush.
"Can I braid your hair, Mama?"
Serene flinched. "Please… don't call me that."
"But that's what you are," Lelo said sweetly, crawling into her lap. "He said you're mine. That means I can love you however I want."
Serene's heart beat hard in her chest.
Still, she let the little hands brush through her hair.
Tug. Twist. Pull. Tie.
The braid was messy. But Lelo looked proud.
---
"Do you want to play the game?" Lelo asked.
"What game?"
"The one mothers and daughters play."
"I… don't know what that means."
Lelo giggled. "That's okay. I'll teach you."
---
For the next hour, Serene was given tasks:
Pretend to tuck Lelo in.
Pretend to sing her a lullaby.
Pretend to say "I love you."
Pretend to promise she'd never leave.
Each line, each act, was sharper than the last.
Serene's voice cracked around the word "love," but she said it anyway.
Because she had to.
Because the walls were listening.
Because Roman's shadow passed by the glass wall at least three times — never stopping, never knocking.
Just watching.
---
Later that evening, Serene sat alone in her room, still wearing the braid.
She stared at her reflection for a long time.
She didn't look like herself anymore.
She looked like a mother.
And a doll.
And a lie.
---