Ivy barely slept that night.
When she did drift off, her dreams were broken pieces—whispers she couldn't understand, shadows that moved when she wasn't looking, and that cracked mirror splitting her reflection in two. Every time she woke, she was sure she heard footsteps outside her door.
But the hallway was always empty.
In the morning, she found Flora in the garden, sitting on the stone path and drawing with chalk. Blue and yellow lines covered the ground.
"Did you sleep okay?" Ivy asked, kneeling beside her.
Flora nodded happily. "I dreamed about Miles."
Ivy's smile was small. "Yeah?"
"He was watching us," Flora said. "He said everything's fine now."
Ivy paused. "Fine from what?"
Flora leaned closer and whispered, "From the lady."
Before Ivy could ask anything else, Flora jumped up and skipped away, humming as she drew a crooked smiley face.
Ivy stayed there, staring at the chalk until the colors blurred.
That evening, Kate sat in the study reading quietly. The house felt too still. Ivy told herself she was just restless as she wandered the halls.
But she stopped short when she saw a door near her room standing slightly open.
She was sure it had been closed before.
Slowly, she pushed it open.
The room was small. Almost empty. Just a bookshelf and a chair by the window.
And a smell.
Sharp. Clean. Familiar.
Miles.
Her eyes moved to the bookshelf. A single framed photo sat there—Miles and Flora, younger, smiling. The glass was cracked.
But there was no dust.
Someone had been here recently.
"You found it."
Ivy spun around.
Miles stood in the doorway, arms crossed, half-smiling.
"I didn't mean to," she said quickly.
He stepped inside, calm and confident, like the room belonged to him.
"It's alright," he said. "You're the first person I've let see it."
Her heart started racing. "I didn't know it was yours."
He picked up the photo and looked at it quietly. "She's everything to me," he said. "Flora."
Ivy nodded.
Then he turned to her. His gaze sharpened.
"I've been watching you."
Her breath caught.
"I mean," he added lightly, "you stand out. The others didn't."
"The others?" she asked.
"The babysitters," he said. "They were dull. You notice things."
She shifted. "You don't talk to me much."
"I prefer watching," he replied. "You like mirrors."
"No," she said. "I don't."
"But you went into that room," he said softly. "The one with the broken mirror."
Her skin prickled.
"I saw you," he added. "That room isn't for you."
"Then why did you smile?" Ivy asked. "When I mentioned it?"
He shrugged slowly. "I wanted to see if it would change you."
The silence between them felt heavy.
Miles stepped closer and gently brushed her hair away from her face.
"You look better like this," he said quietly.
Ivy froze.
His fingers stayed on her cheek just a moment too long before he stepped back.
"I should go," she whispered.
He tilted his head. "Of course."
As she passed him, he spoke again.
"Sweet dreams, Ivy."
She didn't tell Kate.
She didn't know how.
That night, sleep didn't come.
The wind moved outside her window. The house creaked and sighed. Every sound made her tense.
At exactly 2:43 a.m., she heard it.
Not at the door.
At the wall behind her bed.
Three slow taps.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Her breath stopped.
Her room shared a wall with the small space Miles called his.
The tapping stopped.
Silence returned.
Ivy stared into the dark, wide awake.
And deep down, a part of her knew—
She wasn't afraid of staying awake.
She was afraid of what might happen if she slept.