The Last Sparks

Chapter 4

I woke before the sun had fully risen, my body tense with nerves. The digital clock on the nightstand blinked 5:30 AM in harsh red numbers. If Mira was planning something, if she’d heard my conversation with Boss, I needed to be ready. The house was eerily silent as I crept downstairs, my socked feet barely making a sound against the hardwood. The kitchen was cold, the air thick with the scent of yesterday’s coffee and something faintly metallic. I flicked on the lights, wincing as they buzzed to life.

Alright. Time to play the perfect maid.

I rummaged through the fridge, stocked to the brim with fresh eggs, milk, butter, and fruit. Whoever did the grocery shopping for this house clearly didn’t care that no one actually ate together. I decided on pancakes. Simple, comforting, impossible to mess up. As I mixed the batter, my mind raced. What if Mira tells Lucian? What if she already has? The thought made my hands shake. I gripped the whisk tighter, forcing myself to focus. The sizzle of butter in the pan was the only sound in the kitchen until footsteps echoed behind me. I turned, spatula in hand, to see Lucian standing in the doorway. He looked even more exhausted than yesterday, his stubble darker, his tie already loosened like he’d given up on the day before it had even started. His eyes flicked from me to the stove, then to the batter bowl, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, without a word, he walked past me to the fridge, pulled out a carton of milk, and poured himself a glass. No "good morning." No "what are you making?" Just silence. I swallowed my frustration and turned back to the pancakes.

That’s when Mira appeared in the doorway. She was already dressed for school, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Her gaze landed on Lucian first, her expression tightening, just for a second, before going blank again.

Lucian stiffened, his grip tightening around his glass. "Mira—"

"Let's go," she interrupted, her voice flat. She didn’t even look at him.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. He set the milk down with a sharp clink. "I have an early meeting—"

"I wasn’t talking to you." Mira turned to me. "You’re driving me, remember?"

The air in the kitchen turned to ice.

Lucian looked between us, confusion flashing across his face. "You’re taking her to school?" I forced a smile, scrambling for an explanation. "Uh, yeah. She asked last night. I didn’t mind—"

"You asked her?" Lucian’s voice was low, almost hurt.

Mira didn’t answer. Just stared at him, her eyes hollow. The silence stretched, suffocating.

Lucian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Whatever." He grabbed his briefcase from the counter and stalked out of the kitchen without another word. The front door slammed shut a moment later. Mira didn’t react. Just adjusted her backpack and said, "The pancakes are burning." I whirled back to the stove and flipped the smoking pancake with a curse. When I turned back, Mira was gone, her footsteps already fading down the hall. I stared at the empty doorway, my stomach churning. What the hell is going on in this family?

I sprinted to the car, only to find Mira already sitting in the passenger seat. "I told you not to be late," she said, her voice is colder than the air conditioning blasting through the vents. I forced a breathless laugh, sliding into the driver's seat. "Oh, I'm sorry," I lied. "Got held up."

The truth? I'd been standing behind the front door for five full minutes, debating whether this was a setup. Mira kept staring straight ahead as I pulled out the driveway. The entire ride was suffocatingly silent. No music and no small talk. Just the hum of the engine and the occasional tap of Mira's fingernail against the window. I kept stealing glances at her, waiting for her to say something anything about last night. But she didn't.

When we finally arrived at the school, I expected her to bolt out of the car immediately. Instead, she froze. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt, her breathing shallow. Outside, students laughed and shoved past each other, backpacks swinging, voices loud. But Mira just sat there, her eyes tracking them one by one, her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles twitch.

"Aren't you late?" I asked. "You should go."

No response.

"Mira?" I frowned.

Still nothing.

Then, without warning, she turned to me and grabbed my hand. Her grip was ice-cold. Desperate. "Act like a sweet mom before I leave the car," she ordered. I blinked. "What?"

"Just do it until we're out of this damn school's sight," she hissed, her nails digging into my skin. For a second, I just stared at her. Was this some joke? A test? A trap? But the look in her eyes, something raw, something afraid, made my stomach twist.

Fine. Whatever.

I plastered on the most convincing loving mother smile I could muster. Mira exhaled sharply, then shoved the car door open. As she stepped out, I rolled down the window and called after her in the most sickeningly sweet voice I could manage.

"Good luck, sweetie! I'll pick you up later!" My voice carried a little too loud, a little too bright. A few students turned to stare. Mira didn't look back, just squared her shoulders and walked forward, her posture stiff, her steps measured. But I saw it, the way her shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, the moment she crossed the threshold, like she'd just survived something. I watched until she disappeared into the crowd.

The house was quiet when I returned, the only sound the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Lucian sat at the kitchen table, his back to me, a half-empty cup of coffee steaming in his hands. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across his hunched shoulders. I cleared my throat. He didn't turn around.

Fine. We'll do this the hard way.

"Are you close with your daughter?" I asked, the words sharp in the silence. He didn't answer.

"I think she needs you," I pressed, stepping closer. That got his attention. He turned slowly, his dark eyes boring into mine. "Why?"

"I don’t know," I admitted. "Maybe because she’s your daughter, and Mira is your responsibility. So move quickly when she’s around, because she doesn’t want slow." I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Lucian’s expression darkened. "You’re just a maid," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Act like one. You don’t need to know everything about my family."

I clenched my jaw and walked away, my hands shaking with frustration. This guy really gets on my nerves.

The school parking lot was crowded when I returned that afternoon, students milling about in clusters, laughing and shoving each other. I parked near the entrance, my eyes scanning the sea of faces for Mira. And then I saw her. She stood off to the side, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her gaze fixed on the ground. The sunlight caught the tear tracks on her cheeks before she quickly wiped them away. My stomach twisted.

Is she crying?

Mira didn’t notice me. She just stood there, isolated, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to make herself smaller. Around her, groups of kids chatted and joked, but no one so much as glanced in her direction.

It looks like she doesn’t have friends.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I watched her for a moment longer, my fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel.