The last week of winter break was softer than the ones before it. The snow that once swallowed Westdentia's sidewalks was thinning into slush, and the air had the bite of cold water rather than ice. The sky was a pale blue with streaks of sunlight trying to stretch its fingers across the earth. It wasn't quite spring, but it wasn't winter anymore either. It was something in-between—uncertain and waiting.
Leina sat in the back seat of a black town car, her forehead lightly pressed against the window. Frost feathered the corners of the glass, but she barely noticed. The world outside blurred into trees, tall stone walls, and winding roads that twisted deep into an unfamiliar part of the city.
Maria and Daria Mills had invited her to their home for lunch.
And she'd said yes.
She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way Maria had tilted her head and said, "Please?" like the word alone should have worked. Or how Daria had added, "We've been planning it forever," even though they'd only mentioned it two days ago.
Truthfully, she liked them. The twins were chatty, oddly elegant, and just chaotic enough to be entertaining. They balanced each other out in an effortless rhythm, never quite letting her feel left out. Still, the idea of visiting their estate made something in her twist—a quiet discomfort she couldn't explain. It felt too big. Too unfamiliar.
Too close to something she hadn't yet named.
The car slowed.
She looked up.
Kenning Estate appeared like it had always existed, carved from old stone and surrounded by iron gates that creaked open with a slow groan. Ivy blanketed the mansion's tall gray walls, and windows like sharp eyes peered out over frost-dusted gardens. Chimneys leaked trails of soft smoke into the air. It looked like the kind of place that held secrets in its hallways and whispered them at night.
The driver opened the door, and Leina stepped out.
Before she could even take in the view, Maria and Daria spilled out of the massive front doors.
"Leina!" Maria called, her boots crunching over the gravel. She wore a cream coat with gold buttons, her dark braid bouncing behind her.
Daria, wearing a matching coat in navy, waved wildly. "We thought you'd cancel."
"I almost did," Leina said, brushing her hair from her face. "The car ride was kind of long."
"Worth it though, right?" Maria grinned. "Come on—we're starving."
The twins each took one of her arms and led her inside without waiting.
Kenning Estate was everything Leina expected and a little more. The ceilings were high and the halls wide, all painted in dusky tones of navy and pearl. Framed portraits watched them with oil-painted eyes, and polished floors clicked beneath their shoes. Staff moved through the house like whispers—maids with trays, a sharply dressed butler who gave her a polite nod, and someone disappearing around a corner with a stack of linens.
"You live here?" she asked.
"Yep," Maria said cheerfully.
"Like, actually live here?"
"We have bedrooms. And toothbrushes. So yeah." Daria snorted.
Leina didn't laugh. There was something unsettling about how empty the house still felt despite the people inside. The air was quiet in a calculated way, like even silence had to behave.
As they made their way toward the sunroom, they passed a hallway lined with closed doors. At the very end of it, one stood slightly ajar, and Leina caught a glimpse of a tall figure moving behind it.
The hairs on her arms lifted before she even understood why.
"Is that your dad?" she asked.
The twins didn't look.
"Yeah," Maria said quickly. "He's home today. Working."
"Don't worry. He doesn't bite," Daria added with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
They kept walking.
---
Lunch was served in the sunroom, which looked more like a cathedral made of glass. Sunlight poured in from above, illuminating long plants in hanging pots and oversized leaves that brushed against the tall windows. A round table had been set with care: pale porcelain dishes, silver forks, slices of fruit arranged like flowers, tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off.
Leina sat across from the twins, listening as they caught her up on the latest Academy drama—who was failing Latin, who got caught cheating, who accidentally set off the lab alarm again.
She smiled at their banter. They were loud, but not in the way that annoyed her. More like a background hum that grounded her.
Daria poured her tea. "This house is prettier than our last one, but it's not as fun."
"We used to live near the lake," Maria added. "The neighbors had bonfires all the time."
"And we had this attic room with slanted walls," Daria said. "We made it a secret clubhouse."
"It wasn't secret. Mom knew."
"She didn't *say* anything."
"We had friends there," Maria said, her voice a little softer now. "Real ones."
"You're real," Daria said to Leina.
Leina blinked.
Then nodded. "Yeah. I guess I am."
They moved on to desserts and talked about fashion trends neither of them intended to follow. Leina didn't contribute much—she never did—but her thoughts ticked like a clock behind her eyes.
There was a tension in the walls here. Something invisible but present. It wasn't the girls. It was the house.
Or maybe it was the man behind the slightly open door.
After lunch, they took her through the halls again, giggling like they were getting away with something. Eventually, they stopped outside a narrow iron-framed door tucked into a hallway near the back of the house.
"The greenhouse," Maria said.
"It's technically off-limits," Daria added. "But we figured you'd want to see it."
"Why's it off-limits?" Leina asked.
Maria tilted her head. "Dad doesn't like us in there."
"He says some plants are rare. Expensive," Daria said.
Maria opened the door.
"Oops."
They slipped inside.
Leina followed.
The greenhouse was warm and green in a way the rest of the house wasn't. Steam clung to the windows and sunlight filtered in through thick vines. Ferns covered the stone floor, and a small fountain trickled quietly in the center. There were orchids with petals like velvet, thorny bushes in glass cases, and herbs hanging in tied bundles.
Leina wandered slowly, brushing her fingers along a plant that smelled like lemons.
"Feels like a different world," she murmured.
"It kind of is," Daria said. "We hide here sometimes. When things get weird."
Leina looked at her. "Weird how?"
Daria didn't answer.
Maria crouched beside a pot, digging through the dirt with a stick. "Do you ever get that feeling," she asked, "like there's something wrong but you can't explain why?"
Leina stiffened.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I do."
Daria leaned against the glass wall. "Our dad's not… bad. He just has a lot of secrets."
"And he's always watching," Maria said, not looking up.
Leina didn't say anything.
She didn't know how to explain the pressure in her chest. The way she felt when she passed him. How her skin felt too tight and her mouth too dry. How his presence lingered like smoke—even when he wasn't in the room.
"He doesn't like when we bring people here," Maria added.
"But we like you," Daria said with a sudden grin. "So it's worth the risk."
Leina crouched next to them. "You know… I'm not very good at playing."
Maria looked at her. "You don't have to play. Just be."
"Be what?"
"Exactly."
And somehow, that made sense.
They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the greenhouse, poking at plants and inventing names for the ones they didn't recognize. The sun dipped lower, and Leina's unease settled into a quiet awareness. Something was off. But she wasn't scared.
She was watching.
And that was enough.