Milo hadnโt been back in weeks. Not since the last dinner that ended with silverware clattering against ceramic and his fatherโs voice rising over everyone elseโs like it always did. But this visit was planned. Civil. Just a check-in. Thatโs what he kept telling himself as he stepped through the front door, the old hinges groaning in that familiar way that made his shoulders tighten on instinct. The house smelled the same. That mix of lemon polish and something older, something baked into the walls. He kicked off his shoes out of habit and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. His mother appeared briefly at the top of the stairs, bathrobe tied haphazardly, a cup of tea in one hand. She gave a tired little wave. โHey, sweetie,โ she murmured, not quite meeting his eyes. โIโm heading to bed.โ โNight, Mom.โ That was it. No hug. No questions. Just footsteps retreating down the hall and the soft creak of her door closing. The rest of the house was quiet. Lights dimmed. Rowanโs room was dark. Ariannaโs door was closed, as always. Milo exhaled slowly, walking past the hall mirror without looking into it. When he reached Enzoโs door, he hesitated just long enough to swallow down whatever tension was still clawing at his ribs. Then he raised his hand and knocked.
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5๐ชผ:) Melody๐ชผ
23/06/2025
๐ชป~ibite~๐ฆ
Creator
24/06/2025
๐ชป~ibite~๐ฆ
Creator
20/06/2025
Talkior-NN3TKC04
24/06/2025