The question had no good answer.
A soft knock came at the apartment door.
We both froze.
Then Mrs. Pike’s voice called, “It’s me. And two cocoa-covered citizens.”
I folded the letter quickly, though my hands still shook.
The twins tumbled in with chocolate mustaches and the warm, sleepy satisfaction of children who had been thoroughly spoiled. Lena climbed straight into my lap, forcing me back into my chair.
“You’re cold, Mama.”
“I’m okay.”
She placed both small hands on my cheeks.
“You say that when you are not okay.”
Across the room, Luca watched us with an expression I could not read. Ash walked to him and held out a wooden button.
“For the dragon mayor,” he said.
Luca took it as if Ash had offered him something priceless.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a shield.”
“Then I will keep it safe.”
Ash nodded.
Something in me softened at the sight. My children, who had known only my version of the world, were making space for another person. Not all at once. Not blindly. But carefully, instinctively, as children do when kindness is consistent.
Later, after they were asleep, Luca stood by the window.
“I should have told you before,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I should have told you about Bellweather House the moment I found you.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
I looked at him. “Of what?”
“That if I added another secret too soon, you would close the door forever.”
“I almost did anyway.”
“I know.”
A car passed below, headlights streaking across the ceiling.
“You don’t get to decide which truth I can survive,” I said.
He turned from the window.
“No. I don’t.”
The simplicity of his answer took the heat from my anger. I wanted him to fight me. I wanted to empty three years of pain into one argument and have it be enough. But healing, I was beginning to understand, was not an argument won. It was a series of rooms entered slowly.
“I need to go to Bellweather House,” I said.
Luca’s expression sharpened. “Sarah—”
“No.”
He stopped.
“You don’t get to protect me from this by keeping me away. Not again.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“We’ll go together.”
“No.” My voice steadied. “We’ll all go carefully. Not the children. Not yet. Mrs. Pike can keep them tomorrow afternoon. You and I will go, and you will tell me anything you remember before I have to ask.”
The corner of his mouth tightened, not with anger but with acceptance.
“All right.”
That night, sleep came in pieces.
I dreamed of my grandmother standing at the end of a hallway, one hand lifted, her face hidden by shadow. When I woke, dawn had barely touched the windows. The twins slept tangled together in their room, Lena’s foot on Ash’s blanket, Ash’s hand clutching the button tin.
I made pancakes because fear needed something ordinary to stand beside it.
Luca arrived at seven with coffee, wearing a navy sweater instead of a suit.
Lena noticed immediately.
“You found a color.”
“I did.”
“It is not purple.”
“I am taking small steps.”
She accepted this with a solemn nod.
Ash studied him over his juice.
“Are you going with Mama today?”
“Yes.”
“To the secret house?”
Luca looked at me.
I had not said those words in front of Ash. Somehow, he had collected them from the air.
“Yes,” I answered gently.
“Is it scary?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Ash frowned. “Then take a flashlight.”
Luca’s gaze softened. “That’s good advice.”
“And snacks,” Lena added. “Secret houses probably don’t have crackers.”
By noon, Mrs. Pike had installed the twins behind the bakery counter with coloring books, apple slices, and the authority to reject any customer who looked “too gloomy.” Lena took this responsibility seriously. Ash drew a detailed map of rainwater drainage systems around a castle.
Before we left, Mrs. Pike pulled me aside.
“You sure?”
“No.”
“Good. People who are sure around old secrets usually trip first.”
I almost smiled.
