Felix stepped through the door, his footsteps heavy, the silence of his house wrapping around him like a thick fog. He trudged toward his room, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him, when suddenly, his mother's voice broke the quiet.
"Felix!"
Her tone was sharp, a chill running down his spine as he halted in place. She had noticed. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, had caught the absence of Aaron the moment Felix had crossed the threshold.
"Where's your father?" she asked, her voice low but laced with a subtle tension.
Felix turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her face, a mixture of concern and expectation, awaited an answer. His throat tightened, the words caught between his lips. Could she handle the truth? Could she bear to hear it?
He hesitated for a moment, then, with a quiet finality, he spoke.
"He won't come."
"What do you mean he won't come?" His mother's voice trembled with disbelief, her brow furrowed as she stepped closer.
Felix's mind raced, his emotions tangled in a storm he could barely keep afloat. "That he simply won't." he muttered, his voice hollow, as if the words themselves felt foreign coming from him.
"Felix, for God's sake, why do you always have to act so mysterious? Where's Aaron?" Her frustration was palpable now, thickening the air in the room. She searched his face for some sort of explanation, but all Felix could feel was the weight of the unbearable truth pressing down on him.
He was still shaken by the meeting with Diana. The encounter felt surreal, like it had happened in some dream he couldn't fully wake from. He wasn't sure what was real anymore, and the confusion churned in his gut, leaving him feeling lost. He hated this feeling, hated how it made everything seem distant and unclear. But what gnawed at him even more was how his mother kept asking about his father, as if the man hadn't died right before his eyes, as if it wasn't something he couldn't undo.
Felix wanted to scream, wanted to shout at the injustice of it all. He couldn't protect his sister, couldn't protect his father. And now, standing here, he felt like nothing more than a useless bystander in his own life.
He was worthless.
"Do you mind answering me?" His mother's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, sharp and insistent. But Felix, overwhelmed by the storm inside him, could no longer keep it in. The anger, the grief, the helplessness — it all surged to the surface in an uncontrollable outburst.
"Mom, he's dead! Dead! Are you satisfied now?" The words erupted from him, harsh and raw. He didn't dare meet her eyes, didn't want to see the pain he had just inflicted upon her.
He couldn't bear it.
There was a long, suffocating silence as the reality of his words settled between them. Felix's chest heaved as he took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control.
"I'm going to my room. Don't talk to me," he said, his voice quieter now, a calmness that betrayed the turmoil still raging inside him. He didn't wait for her response, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs. His steps were slow, each one heavier than the last. Fatigue weighed on him, dragging him down with every movement. The climb had been grueling, each step feeling like an eternity as he ascended, his body protesting with every step. After what felt like an endless struggle, he finally reached the second floor, he paused for a moment, leaning against the cold wall, gathering whatever strength was left. Then, without hesitation, he pushed forward, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. The hall stretched before him, dimly lit by the faint glow of overhead lights. The distance seemed longer than it should have, as if the corridor itself was reluctant to let him reach his destination. But there it was, at the very end of the hall the door to his room. He grasped the handle with a weary hand, twisting it slowly before pushing the door open. The creak of the hinges echoed through the quiet room, a sound that felt almost too loud after the silence of the hall. As he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him with a soft click. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the familiar surroundings. The bed neatly made, books stacked precisely on the desk, clothes folded with meticulous care. Everything in its place, everything in order. Yet, as he stood there, taking it all in, a gnawing realization crept over him: despite the outward precision, his mind was a different story. His thoughts, scattered and tangled, refused to align in the same way. The chaos inside him was in stark contrast to the calm, ordered space he had created. With a sigh that carried the weight of his exhaustion, he tossed himself onto the bed. The soft mattress embraced him, but the comfort was fleeting, his restless mind refusing to settle. For a moment, he lay there, eyes closed, trying to quiet the storm of thoughts swirling just behind his eyelids, but it was no use.
"Maybe I should contact Uncle Jack..." he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible, as if the words were more for his own ears than anyone else's. The thought lingered for a moment, a fleeting spark of clarity in the fog of his exhaustion, but before he could dwell on it any longer, the weight of fatigue pulled him under. His body surrendered, the pressure of the day finally breaking him. He sank into the bed, his thoughts fading like the last echoes of a distant conversation, until all that remained was the dark pull of sleep.
-
Felix slowly blinked, his vision still hazy as the world around him began to take shape. The first thing that became clear was the vast expanse of blue stretching endlessly above him — so pure, so vast. The sunlight bathed his face, its warmth soaking into his skin, a sensation he hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. It was a fleeting comfort, a brief moment of peace, but as it spread through his body. How long had it been since he'd experienced this simple pleasure? He tried to recall the last time he had felt so… calm. So unburdened. It felt like a lifetime ago. How had his once peaceful existence devolved into this? When had the serenity of everyday life been replaced by the cold, unblinking stare of those eyes? Eyes that burned like fire, deep and blood-red, watching him like prey. Eyes that both terrified and mesmerized him. The thought of them made his chest tighten, his pulse quicken. Yet, there was something strangely captivating about them.
"Wait a damn minute…" Felix's breath hitched as his mind caught up with his surroundings.
His eyes snapped open wide, and his hands instinctively shot up to push himself into a sitting position.
"Wasn't I in my room?"
The confusion in his mind swirled like a storm, each thought crashing into the next. He glanced around, his eyes scanning his surroundings. The air smelled sweet — rich with the scent of fresh blooms — and the first thing that caught his attention were the red roses. They were everywhere, vibrant and almost... overwhelming. Their deep crimson petals shone in the sunlight, their fragrance heady and strong. The sight was almost surreal.
"The greenhouse? What am I doing here?"
His fingers tugged at his hair in frustration, feeling the weight of his disorientation. He should have been in his room, but before he could make sense of it, the quiet was broken by a voice.
"Felix."
The sound was soft, yet it cut through the fog in his mind with a clarity that made him freeze. The voice was familiar — too familiar. It was one he hadn't heard in what felt like forever. A voice that belonged to someone he should have never met again.
Felix's heart skipped a beat.
"Evelyn?"
The name slipped from Felix's lips like a whisper, as if saying it aloud might shatter the fragile boundary between reality and the dreamlike world he now found himself in. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He scrambled to his feet in a swift motion, the sudden movement reminding him of a startled cat, ready to flee or fight — he wasn't entirely sure which. His body shook with the shock, but his mind was racing even faster.
"No… this can't be real. It can't be."
He turned, his eyes wide, his breath quickening as he locked onto the figure standing a few paces away.
There she was.
Evelyn.
Her image was as clear as the sky above him, and yet, it was impossible. His mind rejected it at first, his heart hammering against his ribs as he tried to make sense of what was happening. But no matter how much he tried to deny it, there she stood — his sister, the one he had lost. The one who had died.
She was just as he remembered her: her blonde hair cascading in waves around her shoulders, her eyes a deep shade of blue that always seemed to hold some secret. She was dressed in a long, flowing dress, a shade of white that seemed to glow under the sunlight, making her appear almost ethereal — like a ghost, but so undeniably, painfully real.
"Evelyn!" Felix's voice cracked, barely above a whisper. His pulse thundered in his ears as he took a step toward her, and then another. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The words that tumbled from his mouth were barely coherent, fueled by confusion, shock, and a burning need for answers.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you dead?"
His chest tightened, and a cold sweat prickled along his skin, his eyes never leaving her. Evelyn, his sister, the person he had buried in his memory, was standing right before him. Alive. In front of him. And yet, there was something wrong — something that didn't quite fit.
Her lips parted, and for a moment, Felix thought she might speak, but the words that came out were not what he expected.
"Felix…"
Evelyn's gaze turned cold, as if the words he spoke had stung her in some deeply personal way. Her lips tightened, her jaw set in a hard line as her eyes bore into him. The warmth of the moment evaporated, leaving a biting chill that cut through Felix's chest.
"Dead?" she repeated, her voice low, bitter. "Dead?"
Her words seemed to burn as they left her mouth. Felix flinched as if struck, his stomach twisting in knots. But what she said next shattered everything he thought he knew.
"You — you killed me, Felix."
Her voice was sharp now, a whip of accusation that cut through the silence with a finality that made Felix's stomach churn. Her eyes glinted with something more than sorrow; there was fury in them now. Fury aimed squarely at him. At the brother who had failed her.
"Do you remember that night?" Evelyn hissed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Do you remember what happened? What did you do?" She took a step toward him, her movements quick and controlled, like a predator stalking its prey. "You let me die, Felix. You let me die. And now — now you have the nerve to ask me why I'm here?"
Felix staggered back, his breath catching in his throat. His hands shot out, desperate to steady himself, to understand what was happening. His thoughts were scattered.
"No, Evelyn, that's —"
"That's what?" she cut him off, her voice rising now, thick with bitterness. "That's what you're going to say to me after everything? After I begged you — begged you to not let the Moriartys lay a hand on us!?"
Her face twisted in anger, and for the first time, Felix saw something so raw and painful in her expression that it almost broke him. Her grief, her rage, it was all aimed at him. He opened his mouth to apologize, to explain that he never wanted any of this, but the words stuck in his throat, heavy and suffocating. How could he explain the suffocating guilt that had gnawed at him since that night? The helplessness? The fear? How could he ever make her understand the truth — that he never wanted for her to die?
Evelyn stepped closer, her eyes boring into his, filled with accusation.
"You abandoned me, Felix."
The words were like daggers, piercing through the fragile walls of his mind. Felix recoiled as though physically struck, his legs weak beneath him, his heart sinking with the weight of her anger. The guilt had always been there, a constant shadow trailing him. But now, hearing it from her, from her, it felt like a suffocating pressure, choking him.
"I never meant to —" Felix began, but Evelyn raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Stop. Just stop." Her voice was a harsh whisper, as though saying the words aloud pained her. She stepped back, shaking her head slowly, her expression one of pure disgust.
"I died because of you, Felix. Don't stand here and pretend you didn't."
Felix felt his throat tighten, and for a moment, the world tilted around him, the greenhouse fading in and out of focus. He had no words, no defense. How could he? His sister, his flesh and blood, was accusing him of her death. The guilt — the unbearable guilt — settled deeper into his bones, and for the first time, he truly wondered if he deserved to be alive.
Evelyn's eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but the bitterness was still there, lurking behind her every movement. "You were supposed to protect me. You promised. And now…" She looked down at the ground, the pain in her eyes too much to bear.
"Now look where we are."
Felix's breath hitched. He reached out, his hand trembling. "Evelyn, please —"
But she turned away sharply, cutting him off before he could say anything else. Her shoulders stiffened as she whispered one last thing that sent a chill through him.
"You're not the one who's been abandoned, Felix. I am."
And with that, she vanished into the roses, leaving him standing there, broken and alone in the silence of the greenhouse.
"Evelyn!? Where did you go? Evelyn!?" Felix shouted, his voice ragged, the panic rising in his chest like a tidal wave. His heart was pounding, every beat a hammer against his ribs. He spun around, frantic, searching the rows of red roses as if they could hold the answer to what was happening. Where had she gone? He hadn't imagined it. She had been right there. She had spoken to him — accused him, blamed him. And now she was gone, vanished like a phantom into the air.
His breath was shallow, his eyes darting between the flowers, but there was no sign of her. The greenhouse was silent again, as still and suffocating as before. He stumbled back a step, his thoughts spinning, his pulse racing out of control.
"Was it real?"
A rustling sound came from behind him, soft but unmistakable. Felix froze, his whole body going rigid. That voice.
"That's enough, Felix."
It wasn't Evelyn this time. The words were deeper, more gravelly, but still unmistakable. Felix's blood ran cold. He whipped around, his body going stiff as he saw him standing there, emerging from the shadows between the flowers.
His father.
The man who had died in front of him, his blood staining Felix's face, his father's last, desperate breath escaping his chest as Felix had… frozen. He hadn't been able to move, hadn't been able to save him. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye. He had only stood there — paralyzed. And now, here he was again. Alive? Or was this just another cruel trick of the mind? Another ghost to haunt him?
"Dad?"
Felix's voice cracked, raw and desperate, and he took a step back, his heart crashing against his ribcage. The words felt foreign, like he was speaking to a stranger, like the connection he once had with this man had been severed. His eyes scanned his father's face. It looked just like it had the day he died — pale, bloodless, but still there, still haunting him.
The figure of his father stepped closer, his face a mask of anger and disappointment. The familiarity of it made Felix's chest ache, but what took him by surprise was the intensity of his father's gaze. It was cold, accusing, almost unbearable.
"That's enough" his father repeated, his voice now thick with the weight of years of silent accusation. He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture rigid, as if he were trying to contain the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.
"You don't get to hide from this, Felix. Not anymore."
Felix's throat tightened, a strangled gasp escaping him.
"What… What do you mean?" he stammered, his voice shaking. "I — Dad, I tried —"
"You tried?" His father's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "You didn't try, Felix. You froze. You stood there and did nothing. You watched as I died — right in front of you — and you did nothing."
Felix's legs threatened to give way beneath him. The words were a slap in the face, a punch to his gut. His father's accusation tore through the fragile walls of his mind, unraveling everything he had told himself to make it through each day since that moment. He had told himself it wasn't his fault. He had told himself there was nothing he could have done, that he had been powerless.
But now, hearing his father say it — hearing the raw, unfiltered anger in his voice — Felix felt the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest tightened, suffocating him, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.
"You let me die, Felix. You let me bleed out, and you didn't even try to stop it. All you could do was watch."
His father's voice was thick with disgust now, and Felix recoiled as if the words physically struck him.
"I trusted you, Felix. I trusted you. And you let me down. Just like you let her down."
Felix's breath hitched at the mention of Evelyn. His mind flickered back to the memory of her pale face, her blood-soaked clothes, the hole in the middle of her chest. The image of her death had never left him, and had never stopped tormenting him. He had been the one to fail her. He had been the one to freeze when his family needed him most. And now, his father's voice made it clear that he had failed him too.
"No... Dad, I —" Felix's voice faltered. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't —"
"Don't give me excuses!" his father roared, stepping closer, his face twisted in anger and hurt.
"You were supposed to protect us. You were supposed to be strong, to act. But instead, you stood there like a coward, watching us die. You don't get to say you didn't know what to do. You didn't want to do anything, Felix."
The words hit harder than any physical blow could. Felix's knees buckled, and he sank down onto the ground, his hands clutching his hair, trying to steady himself as the weight of everything came crashing down on him. The guilt. The shame. The overwhelming realization that maybe he wasn't just a victim of fate. Maybe, just maybe, he was the one responsible.
"Dad, please…" Felix whispered through gritted teeth, tears welling in his eyes, his voice hoarse with the pain of it all. "I didn't mean to…"
His father's voice softened for a moment, but the accusation was still there, just beneath the surface.
"You just didn't care enough to act. You let us die. And now you're left with nothing but your guilt."
The words echoed in Felix's ears, reverberating through his skull. He wanted to scream, to deny it all, but deep down, he knew. He knew the truth. He had let them both die. He hadn't been strong enough, brave enough. He had failed them both.
His father's shadow loomed over him, an unshakable presence, as if even in death, he would never be free of this guilt. Felix felt like he was suffocating, his chest constricting with the weight of it all.
"I couldn't save you…" Felix whispered, his voice breaking.
"You couldn't even try," his father replied coldly, before turning and fading into the shadows of the greenhouse.
Felix was left alone once again, the silence now deafening, the guilt crushing him under its weight. Felix's head spun, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his father's words continued to echo in his mind. The air around him was thick with guilt, suffocating him, weighing him down. His heart ached, every beat sending waves of sharp, stabbing pain through his chest. He felt the sting of their accusations — his father, Evelyn — all of them, reminding him of his failures. Of his weakness. Of how he had let them both slip through his fingers. But before he could process any more of the crushing weight that had been piled upon him, a new voice broke through the heavy silence.
"Felix."
The voice was soft, laced with an unbearable sorrow, but there was also something fierce beneath it, something sharp.
Felix's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat as he recognized it. His mother.
His mind recoiled, a sick feeling crawling up his spine. His mother… How was she here?
Felix's throat went dry. "Mom?"
She stepped into view slowly, her face pale, her eyes bloodshot, as though she hadn't slept in days — or perhaps had never woken up at all. Her clothes were dark, somber, like she hadn't seen the light in years.
"Felix…" Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, something jagged buried deep inside.
"I thought you were better than this."
Felix staggered to his feet, his eyes wide with shock. His mind raced.
"What do you mean? What — what are you talking about?"
Her gaze was cold, distant. "You let them die, Felix. You let your father die. You let Evelyn die. And now look at you — standing here, lost in your own guilt, too weak to do anything about it."
"No, Mom, I didn't…" Felix's voice trembled, the words caught in his throat. "I — I tried! I tried to save them, but —"
"You did nothing," she interrupted, her tone sharp, piercing. Her eyes narrowed, disappointment curling around the edges of her words.
"You failed them. You failed the Holmes."
The words stung like a slap. Felix felt himself shrink back, his chest tightening with the weight of her judgment. But just as quickly, her expression softened, and she let out a sigh, a long, drawn-out breath, like the wind that slips through cracks in a broken door.
"You're not entirely to blame, you know," she said, her voice softer now, almost as if she were speaking to herself rather than him. She looked away, her gaze distant, like she was lost in a memory of her own.
"Your enemy… she is strong, Felix. Stronger than we ever thought. Diana James Moriarty. She's been pulling the strings all along, hasn't she?"
Felix blinked, his mind reeling. Diana? But he hadn't fully understood the depth of her power. He hadn't realized how much of his life had been controlled by her, by her machinations.
"I don't understand…" Felix muttered, his hands trembling. "How could… How could someone like her be so — I mean, she's still just a woman after all!"
"She's not just anyone," his mother cut in, her voice suddenly urgent, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that stopped him in his tracks.
"She's a monster, Felix. You don't even realize how much of your life she's already taken. She's been controlling you this whole time."
Felix's heart skipped a beat. His chest tightened painfully as the realization began to sink in. Of course, she was the one pulling the strings. She was the one who had driven everything to this point — his father's death, Evelyn's tragedy, the darkness that seemed to shadow him at every turn. He had been a puppet, a pawn in her cruel game.
But before he could process the flood of emotions that surged through him, a strange heaviness settled over him. The air around him seemed to thicken, and his mother's figure wavered, her outline blurring like a reflection on water disturbed by a ripple.
Felix blinked hard, trying to focus. "Mom…? What's — what's happening?"
His mother's eyes softened for just a moment, her lips trembling as if she were about to say something, but then she stopped herself, her expression turning unreadable.
"You still don't understand, do you?" she whispered, more to herself than to him. Her voice trembled, as if the words were too heavy to speak aloud.
Felix's breath caught in his throat. "What do you mean…?"
His mother let out a slight sigh, a soft, almost imperceptible sound that seemed to carry a world of unspoken weight. She stood there, her eyes distant, as if her thoughts were far away, somewhere Felix couldn't reach.
"How can I possibly know about Diana?" she murmured, her voice thick with the kind of sorrow that only comes from years of regret. "Only you and your father did."
Felix's mind immediately stumbled. "What?"
He blinked, his heart racing in confusion. "What — what are you talking about?" His voice trembled, the question slipping out before he could stop it. "How could you — how could you know anything about her? About Diana?"
The air around them felt thick, heavy with the weight of things left unsaid, as if the greenhouse itself was holding its breath. He stepped forward, his mind scrambling for answers, for clarity. But just as quickly as his words left his mouth, a chill swept through him, like a gust of wind that ruffled the leaves of the roses surrounding them. The world, it seemed, had stopped making sense.
And then, like a sudden jolt, it hit him.
The realization crashed through his thoughts with the force of a tidal wave. His stomach churned as it all clicked into place. He had been wondering why everything felt so strange, so out of sync. The vividness, the distortion of time, the impossible presence of his mother — everything suddenly made sense, in the worst way possible.
This is a dream.
The thought hit him like a gut punch, and the weight of it almost knocked him off his feet. The moment the realization settled in, Felix's legs felt like they might buckle beneath him. His heart began to race faster, his breath quickening, as if his body had just caught up with what his mind had only just begun to understand.
He staggered back, his head spinning. The roses around him — the sun above him, the way the air felt too thick, too dreamlike — everything was an illusion. The emotions flooding through him — anger, guilt, regret — were all just fragments of his subconscious mind, playing out in a twisted, surreal landscape. His mother is not dead. She can't be here.
He was trapped in his own mind.
His mother watched him with a sadness in her eyes, as though she had known all along that he would figure it out. She sighed again, a sad, almost resigned sound.
"I'm sorry, Felix…" she said softly, her voice filled with regret. "But the truth is... I can't help you anymore. This isn't real. And neither am I."
"Mom —" Felix's voice was barely above a whisper, the words thick with the ache of everything unsaid.
" This is your battle, Felix. I can't fight it for you."
He reached out toward her, but before his fingers could touch hers, her form shimmered, fading like a cloud dissolving in the wind.
"Wake up, Felix," she murmured, her voice growing fainter, as if she were standing on the other side of a vast chasm.
And then, just like that, she was gone.
Felix stood frozen, staring at the empty space where his mother had been just moments ago. The reality of her absence hit him like a wave. He blinked, his chest tightening. The sadness, the guilt—it was all still there, anchored to him, but now it was different. Now, it wasn't her fault. It was his. He was the one who had failed. He was the one who had allowed everything to slip away, but before he could move, another voice — strong, commanding — cut through the haze of his thoughts.
"Felix."
He whipped around, his heart pounding in his chest. His legs felt like lead, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse right there on the ground. The voice was familiar — too familiar. And when he saw who stood before him, his breath caught in his throat.
It was her. Diana James Moriarty.
She was standing in the center of the greenhouse, her cold, calculating eyes fixed on him, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her presence was suffocating, like a dark storm cloud looming overhead, threatening to swallow everything in its path.
"You think this is over?" Diana's voice was low, laced with disdain. "You think you can wake up and forget about me? That you can run from what you've done?"
Felix's mind reeled as he took a step back. His thoughts scrambled, trying to process her words, her presence. She had been the one behind it all — the one pulling the strings, the one who had manipulated him, forced him into a corner. The one who had taken everything from him.
And now, here she was, standing before him like a living nightmare.
"No," Felix whispered, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and anger.
"No. I'm done running."
Diana's smile widened, her eyes glinting with malicious delight.
"You can wake up, Felix," she said, her voice like ice, "but the real battle hasn't even begun."
And with that, the world around him began to collapse, the roses, the greenhouse, his mother — all of it — fading away as he was pulled back into the darkness.
The truth was waiting for him, just beyond the veil of his sleep.
-
Felix's eyes shot open, the suddenness of it all making his breath catch in his throat. He was back in his room. His bed was familiar, the soft quilt draped over him as it always was, the pale sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor. His heart pounded in his chest, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his mind like a fog, pulling at his thoughts.
He blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself, trying to separate the dream from reality. The nightmare — the voices of his family, the accusations, the haunting presence of Diana Moriarty — it all seemed so vivid, so real. But now, as the morning light streamed in, he realized with a sinking feeling that it had all been a dream. Just a dream.
"It really was just a dream," Felix whispered to himself, the words hanging in the air, almost disbelieving. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, the sensation grounding him as his pulse began to slow. The weight of the guilt, the sadness, the overwhelming sense of failure that had gripped him in the dream — those feelings still lingered, but they felt distant now, like they belonged to someone else.
He let out a shaky breath, his chest still tight. But it wasn't the nightmare that terrified him now — it was the realization that, for a moment, it had felt so real. For a moment, he had believed that he was standing on the edge of everything he had lost, everything he had failed to protect.
The feeling of his mother's presence — her disappointment, her sadness — was still fresh in his mind, and as much as he wanted to dismiss it as just a figment of his dream, something deep inside told him it wasn't that simple.
He looked toward the window, his gaze falling on the serene scene outside. The sun was shining brightly, the sky a calm blue, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was a peaceful, ordinary day — the kind of day he had taken for granted.
But then the memory of last night hit him. His harsh words. He had shouted at his mother, had let his frustration spill over, unable to understand the pressures she had been under, unable to grasp the weight of her own pain.
"I should apologize to her," Felix thought, the words quietly slipping into his mind like a forgotten truth. He wasn't sure if it was guilt or something deeper pulling at him, but he knew it was the right thing to do. She was still alive. She was still here, and yet, he had pushed her away.
Felix pushed himself off the bed, his feet hitting the cool floor with a soft thud. His hands were still trembling slightly, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like cobwebs. But he couldn't ignore the growing ache in his chest — the need to make things right, to undo the damage he had done before the harsh words took root in a place where they couldn't be undone.
He stepped toward the door, hesitating for a moment, the weight of his thoughts pressing on him. Could he truly fix things? Could a simple apology be enough to repair the hurt he had caused?
As he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, he felt a cold shiver run through him. The house was eerily quiet, too quiet for his liking. His mother's room was on the other side of the hall. He had avoided her since Evelyn's death, not knowing how to face her.
But now, with the dream still echoing in his mind, he knew he couldn't let things stay the way they were. He needed to confront it, needed to find the courage to face her and speak the words that had been stuck in his throat.
Felix stood in front of her door, his hand resting on the doorknob. A part of him hesitated — what if she was still upset? What if she didn't want to hear his apology? The fear of rejection gripped him, but something inside him pushed him forward.
With a deep breath, he turned the handle and opened the door.
The room was empty.
His heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat as he scanned the room. The bed was neatly made, the soft morning light spilling in through the window, but there was no sign of his mother.
"Mom?" Felix called out, his voice unsteady, a sense of panic rising in his chest. The silence stretched on, the quietness of the house becoming oppressive. He stepped into the room, his footsteps soft against the carpet as he made his way toward the window.
Her clothes were missing from the closet, and there was no sign of her on the bed. Felix's stomach twisted in sudden unease. Where could she be? Had she gone out? Had something happened overnight? The panic he had felt earlier in the dream seemed to return, more real this time.
Just as the anxiety began to rise within him, he heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen.
Felix's heart skipped. He turned quickly, his mind racing as he bolted down the hall, his feet pounding against the floorboards. He reached the kitchen, his breath quick and shallow, and found his mother standing there, her back to him as she stood by the stove, preparing breakfast with a maid.
She turned around as he entered, her eyes soft but tired. She smiled faintly when she saw him.
"Morning, Felix," she said gently, the warm scent of pancakes filling the room.
Felix swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stepped closer. The weight of the argument last night still hung in the air between them, and he could feel it pressing down on his chest.
"Mom," he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.
"I… I owe you an apology. For last night. I shouldn't have shouted at you. I was angry, and I didn't understand what you were going through. I… I was wrong."
His mother didn't say anything immediately, but her gaze softened, and she placed the spoon down on the counter. For a long moment, she just stood there, looking at him, like she was deciding whether or not to accept his apology.
Finally, she sighed and nodded, her eyes glistening with something Felix couldn't quite place.
"Felix… we both say things we don't mean sometimes."
Felix nodded, his throat tight. "I'm sorry. For everything."
She stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her touch grounding him in a way he hadn't realized he needed.
"I know, Felix," she said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I know."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Felix let out a long breath, his body releasing the tension he hadn't even known he was holding. In the quiet of that moment, standing with his mother, everything felt… a little bit more bearable. He still didn't know what was coming, didn't know how to face the darkness of the world outside. But he had made one thing right. And that, for now, was enough.
"Oh, Mom, by the way…" Felix hesitated, then added,
"Is there any way to contact Uncle Jack and my cousins?"