Chapter Thirty Five: The Quiet Storm
430 Words
Writer’s POV
Morning light crept through Mila’s curtains, soft and golden — but it didn’t touch her. She sat at her desk, unmoving, her thoughts echoing louder than any alarm.
Her father’s voice from last night replayed in fragments — sharp, cold, familiar.
She had seen things she wasn’t supposed to see. Heard names that should’ve stayed buried.
And now, she couldn’t unhear them.
By the time she reached Manchester High, her face was composed — neat hair, crisp blazer, steady walk. To anyone else, she looked like herself.
But Xavier wasn’t anyone else.
*****
Xavier’s POV
He spotted her the moment she walked in.
No eye contact. No sarcastic jab. No fire.
Something was off.
During class, she barely spoke — just sat there, pen tapping soundlessly, gaze lost somewhere far beyond the whiteboard. Even when the teacher called her name, her response was mechanical, as if she was speaking through static.
At lunch, she sat at the edge of the table, untouched tray before her.
“Mila,” Xavier said finally, voice low. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she replied, eyes still on the table.
He frowned. “You expect me to believe that?”
Her gaze flicked to him then — a flicker of something raw, haunted. Then, just as quickly, she masked it. “Believe whatever you want.”
He leaned closer, whisper-sharp. “Something happened. Last night?”
She froze. A second too long. Enough to confirm it.
Before he could push, she stood. “Drop it, Xavier. Please.”
The “please” wasn’t anger. It was fear.
*****
Writer’s POV
All day, Xavier watched her unravel in silence — the twitch of her hand when her phone buzzed, the way her eyes darted whenever someone mentioned the Reeds or her father.
After school, she didn’t wait for him. Just walked straight to the parking lot and disappeared into the back seat of her father’s car.
But Xavier noticed something else — a man in a dark suit standing by the gate, eyes following her car as it drove away.
And when Xavier looked again… the man was gone.
*****
Late that night
Mila sat by her window, hugging her knees, watching the streetlights flicker. Her phone buzzed — a message from an unknown number:
> “You saw too much.”
Her breath caught.
No name. No number.
Just those four words.
And somewhere, not too far away, Xavier lay awake — staring at his ceiling, mind racing. Because whatever had changed Mila… it wasn’t over.
It was only beginning.
- Writer
