I don’t go far once I step inside.
I tell myself I will. I tell myself that I’ll head upstairs, close my door, and give myself a few minutes to breathe through the adrenaline that’s still humming under my skin. But my body doesn’t follow through with any of it.
Instead, I slow just past the entryway, one hand settling lightly against the wall as if I need it to anchor myself to.
The house feels different tonight. It always has, in a quiet, unexplainable way that I’ve never been able to put into words, but now that feeling is sharper, heavier, like something that’s been hiding just out of sight has finally decided to show itself.
Outside, my father and Asher’s voices carry.
Not clearly enough to follow every word, not enough to make out the full shape of the conversation, but enough
