"WHEN MIDNIGHT COMES"
The house feels unnaturally quiet.
The echoes of last night's argument still linger in my head—every word sharp, every glance cold—but when I come downstairs, Aunt Serena and Uncle Ethan are seated together at the breakfast table, as if nothing ever happened. She is dressed in a chic nude-toned bodycon dress with bold black floral detailing, it has a square neckline and flattering silhouette — elegant and timeless.
She's pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups, her hair pinned, her expression unreadable. He's scrolling through his phone like he hadn't stormed out last night.
I watch as he leans over to brush a kiss against her cheek.
A performance.
But convincing enough that it makes my stomach twist.
"I hope you slept well, darling," Aunt Serena says to me with a calm smile, as if she hadn't been sobbing in the living room just hours ago.
"Mm-hm," I murmur, taking my seat.
Uncle Ethan glances at me briefly. "Your tutoring session's at noon today, right?"
I nod.
He doesn't spare me a glance.
Nothing more is said.
Just like that—they've patched it up. Or at least pretended to.
As uncle leaves, kissing aunt serena goodbye,she escorts him to the door ,as always. Wow she really puts in an effort,judging by the incredible food she cooks,my mother didn't cook much because of her shift but on weekends she would make delicious food.
I slide a biscuit under the table to Montricia. She lets out a soft meow before nibbling at it daintily.
A smile tugs at my lips.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Aunt Serena's voice floats from behind me.
"Yes, I guess," I reply, even though the sky is its usual blanket of gray. Still, I go along with it.
"Montricia, my baby."she coos.
She scoops the cat into her arms, cradling her like porcelain. Montricia purrs.
"Who wants cookies?!" Aunt Serena beams, already knowing the answer.
"Me!" I chirp. I can't help it—her cookies are unfairly good.
Montricia meows as if to second that.
I offer to help in the kitchen, but she waves me off gently. So I gather Montricia in my arms and head out to the garden.
The air is still—no wind . He never comes around this time anyway.
My eyes drift to the old rusting mailbox tucked near the edge of the path. Funny… I've never seen Aunt Serena or Uncle Ethan open it. And there must be mail.
Driven by a strange curiosity, I cross the garden with Montricia nestled in my arms. I tug open the mailbox door.
A few envelopes rest neatly inside, but something else catches my eye—tucked at the back, a crumpled piece of paper. My heart stutters.
I reach in and unfold it. Four words stare back at me, jagged and rushed:
" Meet me at midnight,at the fence."
Cade.