The room was small.

Warm, but quiet—too quiet.

The fire crackled softly in the corner, its glow flickering across tired faces.

No one spoke.

Loralie sat still, her thoughts stuck back in the ballroom—on blood, on shouting, on Haider.

Ethan and Zuri avoided each other's eyes completely.

Lorenzo stood off to the side, tense.

Evangeline sat closest to the window, staring out like she wasn't really there.

It was Ethan who broke first.

"...So," he started, clearing his throat, "how did you end up here?"

All eyes shifted to Evangeline.

She didn't answer right away.

Instead, she inhaled slowly, like she had told this story before—but never easily.

"I was very young," she said finally. "Too young to understand anything."

Her gaze didn't leave the window.

"There was a forest near my home. I used to wander there all the time. It wasn't known to be haunted then."

A pause.

"One day, I found a well in the dead center of the forest."

Loralie leaned forward slightly.

"It was... strange. Empty. Dark." Evangeline's voice softened. "It felt like it was calling me."

A beat.

"So I jumped."

Silence.

"I never went back. I couldn't."

That landed.

Zuri's expression fell. "You were just... gone?"

Evangeline nodded faintly. "They would've thought I disappeared."

"...How did you survive?" Loralie asked quietly.

"I was found," Evangeline said. "By a noble family. The Santos."

Her lips curved—but not quite into a smile.

"They were kind. Safer than most."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened slightly. He just stared.

"I learned quickly," she continued. "How to speak, act, behave. I became who they needed me to be."

"And the well?" Ethan asked.

Evangeline finally turned to look at them.

"I tried," she said. "Over and over again."

Her voice dropped.

"But I couldn't get it."

That shifted everything.

"I never found the well. I never understood the mystery of this damned curse. Time is fucked."

Silence filled the room again—but this time, it was heavier.

Zuri was the one to move.

She smiled—soft, but determined.

"Well," she said, stepping forward, "at least you're not alone anymore."

Evangeline blinked slightly.

"We can figure it out together." Zuri added.

Haider extended his hand without thinking.

"...Together?" he said.

One by one—

They placed their hands over his.

"Together."

⸻
Time passed.

Haider sat off to the side, head tilted slightly as dried blood traced the edge of his face.

The cut still burned.

He reached up to touch it—

"Don't."

Loralie's voice stopped him.

She stood in front of him now.

"Let me help."

For once—

He didn't argue.

⸻

The bathroom was small. Cramped.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

Water ran softly as Loralie soaked a cloth, wringing it out before pressing it gently against his skin.

Haider flinched.

"Relax," she murmured.

"Easy for you to say."

She huffed a quiet laugh.

"...Why did you do it?" she asked after a moment.

There it was.

Haider leaned back slightly.

"Do what?"

"You know what."

Silence.

Then—

"He was annoying," Haider muttered.

Loralie raised a brow.

"That's it?"

"...He was annoying you," he corrected, quieter.

Loralie smiled faintly. "That never stopped you before."

"Yeah, well..." he trailed off.

She pressed the cloth a little harder.

He hissed.

"Okay, I deserved that."

"Yeah," she said simply.

Another pause.

"...You didn't need saving," Haider added.

Loralie tilted her head. "No, I didn't."

"But I still did it."

She watched him now.

Really watched him.

Haider avoided her eyes for a second—rare.

Then leaned a little closer as she cleaned the cut again.

"...You liked it," he muttered, a small smirk twitching up his lips.

Loralie scoffed. "Please."

"You did."

"I didn't."

"You did."

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you."

Haider huffed. "Good thing I wasn't jealous then."

Loralie just gave him a look.

He cracked first.

"...Whatever."

The room softened.

The tension didn't leave—but it changed.

Shifted.

Something quieter.

Something real.

Haider looked at her again.

This time, he didn't look away.

"...I don't think I was thinking," he said slowly. "I just—"

He stopped.

That wasn't him.

Words weren't his thing.

They never were.

So instead—

He reached out, fingers brushing her wrist.

Gentle.

Unusual.

Loralie stilled.

"...Yeah," she said softly. "I noticed."

Their eyes met.

No jokes now.

No teasing.

Just—

understanding.

Loralie stepped closer.

Haider didn't move back.

Her hands found his collar lightly.

His hands settled at her waist like instinct—steady, careful, like he was afraid she might vanish if he held too tightly.

For once, there was no sarcasm between them. No arguing. Just quiet.

"...You've gotten more handsome, honestly," she murmured, almost teasing.

A slow grin tugged at his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

That was all it took.

She didn't plan it. She just leaned in—like her body decided before her thoughts could catch up.

Haider didn't move away this time.

He met her halfway.

His eyes slipped shut right as their lips touched.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't messy.

It felt like something finally snapping into place.

Haider exhaled softly against her, like he'd been holding his breath for too long. One hand tightened slightly at her waist, pulling her closer without even thinking, while the other moved into her hair—careful at first, then less so, like he was finally allowing himself to feel it fully.

Loralie's thoughts didn't come fast enough to stop it.

Everything she usually overanalyzed just... disappeared.

There was only him. Only the warmth. Only the strange, dizzy feeling blooming in her chest that she absolutely refused to name.

Cliché. Stupid. Impossible.

And yet she didn't pull away.

Neither of them did.

⸻

⸻

The room had quieted again.

Ethan and Zuri had fallen asleep—separate, but not far.

The air between them still felt... unfinished.

Unspoken.

⸻

Evangeline sat by the window again.

Lorenzo watched her for a moment.

Then sighed.

"...You're going to regret sleeping on the floor."

No response.

He stepped closer, holding out a hand.

"Come on."

"...Leave me alone," she said quietly.

That hit something.

Lorenzo ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh.

"I said I'm sorry."

Evangeline turned sharply now.

"You don't get to be frustrated."

"I'm not—"

"You lied."

Her voice didn't rise.

But it cut.

"You didn't have to. But you did."

"It wasn't a big deal—"

"It was to me."

That stopped him.

"If it wasn't for your friends," she continued, "I would still be stuck here. Waiting."

Her voice cracked—just slightly.

"And I trusted you. I believed that you were just some boy who moved all around France."

Something snapped.

"Well I wasn't about to tell my life story to someone I just met!" Lorenzo shot back.

Silence.

Immediate.

Regret hit his face almost instantly.

But it was too late.

Evangeline's expression shifted.

Not angry.

Worse.

Hurt.

"...Right," she said quietly.

She turned.

And walked out.

"Eva—"

He didn't finish.

Because she didn't stop.

And he didn't follow.