TANGLED BONDS

chapter 7: Florida

Ella's POV

The house was white.

Simple and clean with a small porch and a front door painted a deep navy blue. Modest. Quiet. Nothing like the warm cluttered house we had left behind in Canada.

I stood on the pavement looking at it while dad unloaded the first bags from the car.

Canada had been alive in a way I hadn't fully appreciated until now. Busy streets. Familiar faces. The sound of neighbours and traffic and life happening all around you whether you wanted it to or not.

Florida was different.

This neighbourhood was calm in a way that felt almost unnatural. Wide empty streets lined with tall trees. Houses spaced far apart. No children playing outside. No noise spilling from open windows. Just stillness.

Less civilian than I was used to.

I didn't know if I liked it yet.

"Come on," dad said quietly passing me with a box. "Let's get settled."

He didn't say much else.

He hadn't said much since we crossed the state line. I understood. This was his fresh start — the thing he had needed badly enough to uproot both our lives for. But fresh starts carry their own kind of grief. The grief of admitting the old place couldn't hold you anymore.

I picked up my bag and followed him inside.

The interior of the house was simple and clean.

An open plan living room and kitchen on the ground floor with large windows that let in the late evening light. The furniture had been delivered and arranged before we arrived — cream sofa, wooden dining table, soft grey curtains that moved slightly in the air conditioning.

It smelled like a new place. That particular smell of somewhere that hasn't been lived in yet. Neutral and waiting.

My room was upstairs at the end of the hall.

I pushed the door open and stood in the doorway.

It was a decent size — bigger than my old room actually. A single bed against the left wall with a plain white duvet. A wooden desk near the window. A wardrobe. A small bookshelf.

Simple. Clean. Bare.

I didn't love it.

But it was simple enough to be mine. Simple enough to work with.

I dropped my bag on the bed and started unpacking slowly. Clothes into the wardrobe. Books onto the shelf. Small things arranged on the desk.

The last thing I unpacked was the flower.

I had kept it carefully wrapped in a damp cloth the whole journey. Mom's flower from mom's garden — stubborn and small and still holding on.

I found a small glass vase in one of the kitchen boxes and filled it with water. Then I carried it upstairs and placed it on the windowsill.

Right where the evening light could reach it.

"There," I said softly.

It felt like bringing a piece of her with me. Like she was in the room now too.

I felt slightly better after that.

I called Alex at 9pm.

It rang four times and went to voicemail.

I stared at the phone for a moment.

He had never not answered before.

"Hey," I said after the beep. "I arrived safely. The house is white and the neighbourhood is very quiet. Like suspiciously quiet." I laughed a little. "Anyway. Just calling like I promised. Call me back when you can."

I hung up and set the phone face down on the desk.

He was probably busy. It was fine. It was fine.

I told myself that several times.

I was almost asleep when it happened.

It started as warmth.

Not temperature warmth — not like a blanket or sunlight. Something else entirely. A warmth that came from inside my chest and spread outward slowly like something waking up.

I opened my eyes in the dark.

My room was still. The curtain moved gently. Mom's flower was a small shadow on the windowsill.

But something was pulling me.

Not physically. Not like a hand grabbing my wrist. More like a feeling — a certainty that something was out there. Something close. Something that somehow already knew I was here.

I sat up slowly.

I don't know what made me do it. I don't know why I listened to it.

But I got up and walked to the window.

I looked out at the dark quiet street below.

Empty.

Just trees and shadows and the distant glow of a streetlight.

Nothing there.

And yet.

The warmth didn't go away. Florida time.

And somewhere in the back of my mind — quiet as a whisper — something told me that whatever this feeling was.

It was only just beginning.