The house was unusually quiet that night. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that presses against the walls, making every clock tick sound like a hammer.
Gabriel sat at his desk, books open but unread. His mind replayed the whispers at school, the panicked screams, the trail of blood in the hallways, and his father's dark fury in the meeting rooms. None of it made sense. But one thing gnawed at him more than the rest: Gemma.
She sat across the room, at her own desk, her head bent low. Her pen scratched faintly against paper, her expression unreadable in the dim lamplight.
Gabriel leaned back, watching her. What are you hiding, Gemma?
For years, he had gotten used to her silence, even defended it. But now… now it felt like her silence was a cage holding something dangerous inside.
Suddenly, she stopped writing. Slowly, she tore a small piece from the notebook and slid it across the desk toward him without looking up.
Gabriel frowned, hesitated, then reached for it. His pulse spiked as he read the jagged words written in her sharp, deliberate hand:
"Not hers. Not mine. His."
Gabriel stared at it, his mouth dry. "His?" he whispered. "Who the hell is his?"
Gemma didn't answer. She simply closed her notebook and turned away, her face half-hidden in shadow.
Gabriel's chest tightened. His mind spiraled. His… who? Their father? The mysterious white-haired man? Someone else entirely?
He wanted to demand an answer, to shake her until she spoke. Instead, he shoved the note into his pocket and stood abruptly.
"Fine," he muttered. "If you won't tell me… I'll find out myself."
For the first time, he didn't just feel protective of her — he felt afraid of her.
That night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Gabriel remained awake. He crept through the house like a shadow, following Gemma's soft footsteps.
She moved quietly, always at odd hours, like a ghost haunting her own home. She never turned on lights, never made a sound, yet always carried her notebook with her like a weapon.
From the top of the stairs, Gabriel watched as she paused by the window, staring out into the fog-thick night. Her lips moved faintly. Not a sound escaped, but the shape of her mouth looked like words—words meant for no one to hear.
Gabriel felt the chill crawl up his spine. His fists clenched at his sides.
Whatever Gemma knew, whatever she was carrying inside her silence… it wasn't just hers anymore.
And Gabriel wasn't sure he wanted the answer.