Cracked Window.
Diana’s POV
It had been four weeks since we brought Cael home.
Four weeks after the war ended, the rituals collapsed, the blood dried, and the curses shattered.
Peace didn’t arrive like a miracle. It seeped in like sunlight through an old, cracked window. Slow. Reluctant. But real.
Our days blurred into a rhythm that felt stolen from someone else’s dream. Mornings were soft. Cael’s cries were gentle even when urgent. Cameron moved through the house like he was finally living in a world that didn’t demand blood from him. He wore his love on his sleeve now like armor and offering at once.
And me?
I was learning how to breathe again.
The lake house became our retreat. Not the mansion, too many echoes, too many memories clawing through the halls. Out here the air smell
