BETWEEN US AND THE PAST

CHAPTER4- THE MINI CONCERT

The moment I stepped inside the house, I already felt it. That kind of silence that wasn’t really silence.

My mom was sitting at the dining table, completely still, like she had been waiting for me without actually saying she was waiting. And somehow, that made it worse.

I slowly closed the door behind me. Something felt off.

Not in a scary way. In a she already knows something way.

I bent down to take off my shoes, buying myself a few seconds. My brain was still stuck in school, but now it was slowly shifting into something else—this quiet pressure building in my chest.

I could feel her eyes on me even without looking up.

That’s the thing about my mom. She doesn’t need to speak loudly to make you feel like you’re being analyzed.

When I finally looked up, she was smiling. Too calm. Too sure.

That was my first warning.

I forced myself to act normal and walked toward the living room, dropping my bag like I didn’t care about anything.

“How was school?” she asked.

Her voice was soft, casual. But I already knew that question wasn’t casual at all.

“Good,” I said quickly.

And immediately regretted it.

Because my mom leaned back slightly, studying me like I had just given the wrong answer on purpose.

There was a pause. A long one.

Not awkward. Intentional.

My fingers tightened slightly on my bag strap.

Something about the way she looked at me made my thoughts feel louder than usual. Like I was being read too easily.

“Just good?” she finally said.

That was it. The shift.

My chest tightened a little, even though nothing had actually happened yet.

I looked away first.

“It was just the first day,” I said, trying to sound uninterested. “Nothing special.”

But even as I said it, my mind betrayed me.

Because it wasn’t nothing. It was too much.

Too many moments. Too many faces.

And one specific person I definitely did not want to think about right now.

I felt my mom stand up. Slowly. Not rushed. Controlled.

That alone made my stomach drop a little.

She didn’t even need to ask directly anymore. She just circled the conversation like she already had the answers.

And then she said it. That name.

Mason.

I froze.

Not fully turning my head. Not reacting loudly. Just… still.

Because why did hearing it in my house feel different? Like it didn’t belong here.

My mom wasn’t even looking at me anymore. She was pretending to arrange something on the counter, but I knew she was watching my reaction through the corner of her eye.

That’s when I realized— This wasn’t an interrogation. It was confirmation.

I exhaled slowly and tried to push it away.

“There’s nothing,” I said, quieter this time.

But even I didn’t sound convinced.

My mom hummed softly, like she accepted it. But not really.

And that was worse.

Because she wasn’t going to push. She was just going to notice. And remember.

I turned away before she could say anything else, walking toward the stairs.

But as I climbed up, my thoughts didn’t calm down.

My room finally felt like mine again. Door closed. Quiet. Safe.

I dropped my bag on the floor and immediately fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling like it was going to explain my entire life to me.

Today was too much.

Too many people. Too many moments I did not ask for.

And somehow… I still couldn’t stop replaying everything.

Mason sitting beside me. Frost looking at me like he already knew something. And that weird tension I couldn’t explain.

I groaned softly and turned on my side.

“Stop thinking,” I muttered to myself.

I grabbed my phone and opened Spotify without really choosing anything. Anything loud. Anything distracting.

A beat started playing.

Good. Perfect.

I stood up.

At first, it was just small movements. A sway of my shoulders. A tap of my foot against the floor.

Then the music took over.

And suddenly, I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just… moving.

I danced around my room like nobody was watching. Singing badly. Missing lyrics. Spinning like I was in some imaginary music video where I actually had talent.

I pointed at my mirror dramatically.

“Yes, Evelyn!” I said to myself. “You are THAT girl!”

I jumped onto my bed for effect, laughing at my own energy.

For a moment— Everything felt light. Normal. Mine.

I turned toward the window while still singing, adjusting my hair like I was performing for a crowd that actually cared.

“…and I don’t careee—”

I slowed down mid-step.

Something felt off.

I lowered the volume slightly. Then turned.

The window. Across the street.

A light was on.

I frowned.

“Huh…”

I walked closer, still slightly out of breath from dancing.

Then I pulled the curtain just a little.

And froze.

Mason.

Standing in his room. Looking directly at my window.

Not moving. Just watching.

And smiling.

My entire body stopped.

No. No, no, no.

My brain refused to process it at first.

I stepped back immediately like I had just been caught doing something illegal.

“Oh my God…” I whispered.

I slowly pointed at him through the glass even though I knew he could probably see me.

“You—what are you doing?!” I mouthed silently.

And he didn’t look away.

He just kept smiling. Like he was entertained. Like he enjoyed every second of it.

My heart dropped.

I quickly shut the curtain.

“Nope. Nope. Nope.”

The room felt too quiet after that moment.

I stood frozen in front of my window, staring at the empty space where he had been just seconds ago.

Mason. Still smiling. Still watching.

And somehow, still completely calm, like he didn’t just witness the most embarrassing private concert of my life.

I slowly backed away from the window, my heart still racing like it forgot how to behave normally.

“No way…” I whispered to myself. “There’s no way he saw all of that.”

I turned around and immediately walked straight to my bed, dropping myself face-first onto it.

Nugget jumped up beside me like he was proud of the chaos he had witnessed.

I groaned into the pillow. “Don’t look at me like that. I already suffered enough.”

My phone buzzed.

I didn’t want to look. But I did.

Unknown number.

A message appeared.

Unknown #: Nice moves… maybe you can teach me sometime 😊

My entire body went stiff.

I slowly lifted my head from the pillow.

“…I’m going to die,” I muttered.

My fingers hesitated before typing.

Me: Who is this?

A few seconds passed.

Then—

Mason: Save my number. Mason Crawford.

I blinked.

Of course. Of course it’s him.

Before I could even react, another message came in.

Mason: Your mom gave it to me.

Oh my God.

Morning light slipped through my curtains before my alarm even had the chance to ruin my sleep.

I didn’t feel rested. I felt… annoyed.

Because the moment I opened my eyes, everything from yesterday came back like it had been waiting for me.

Mason. His message.

And that sentence I still couldn’t believe: “Your mom gave it to me.”

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my face.

“This is not happening,” I muttered.

Nugget barked once from the floor like he disagreed.

I sighed, sat up, and stared at the ceiling.

No escaping it now. I needed answers.

The house felt normal. Too normal.

Like nothing suspicious had happened in this family.

My mom was in the kitchen, casually preparing breakfast, humming softly like she didn’t just alter my entire life without permission.

I walked in slowly.

“Mom,” I called.

She turned slightly. “Good morning.”

I didn’t waste time.

“…Why did you give my number to Mason?”

That made her pause for half a second. Then she continued stirring her coffee.

“Oh,” she said calmly. “That.”

My eye twitched.

“That?”

She nodded like it was nothing important.

“Yes. He asked for it.”

I stared at her.

“…And you just gave it?”

She finally looked at me properly.

“Yes.”

Silence.

I blinked once. Twice.

“…Without asking me?”

She tilted her head slightly, like my question was unnecessary.

“He’s your neighbor, Evelyn. He helped me with Nugget.”

I pressed my lips together.

“That still doesn’t mean you hand out my number like it’s a flyer.”

She smiled faintly.

“It’s just a phone number.”

I exhaled sharply.

“No, it’s not just a phone number. It’s my phone number.”

My mom took a sip of her coffee like I wasn’t emotionally spiraling in front of her.

“He seemed like a good boy,” she added.

“Of course he did,” I muttered. “That’s the problem.”

That made her pause.

Then she looked at me like she was trying not to laugh.

“You’re thinking too much again.”

I pointed at her immediately.

“This is not thinking too much. This is you trusting strangers too easily.”

She walked over and gently fixed my hair like I was still a child.

“I trust my judgment,” she said simply.

I froze.

“…That’s what scares me.”

She chuckled softly and turned back to the kitchen like the conversation was already over.

“Eat breakfast before you leave,” she said.

I stood there for a moment, completely defeated.

Nugget walked beside me and leaned into my leg like emotional support.

I looked down at him.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “We’re both victims here.”