The drive stretches on. The highway narrows. The forest thins. Houses begin to appear, spaced far enough apart to suggest privacy instead of safety.
Seth slows as the house comes into view. He doesn't signal. He doesn't turn into the driveway. He pulls to the curb across the street and lets the car idle.
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks.
The house is ordinary. One car sits in the driveway. The curtains are drawn halfway. A single light glows in what looks like the living room.
I break the silence. “Do you want to come in?”
He exhales through his nose, eyes still fixed ahead. “No. Not now.” After a moment, he adds, quieter, “Maybe after we finish all this.”
I nod, “Okay.”
Neither of us moves.
“She just needs to know you’re alive,” I say gently. “That’s all.”
Another pause stretches between us. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
“Tell her I’m okay.”
I look at his hands. I see the dried blood ground into his knuckles and the tension locked through his shoulders. I don’t say that he is hurt in ways she can’t fix.
I open the door and step out, then close it softly behind me. I make it halfway across the street before I stop.
I look back.
Seth is still there. His posture hasn’t changed. His grip on the wheel stays firm. His gaze is fixed forward, caught somewhere between the windshield and the house beyond it. He doesn’t follow me.
He isn’t ready yet.
I walk up to the door and knock once, firm but careful, then let my arm fall back to my side.
The door opens almost immediately.
Samantha stands there like she has been waiting just behind it, shoulders tight, eyes already glassy and braced for the worst. When she sees me, something in her face breaks.
“He’s okay,” I say before she can ask.
She exhales sharply and grabs onto me, pulling me into a hug that feels both desperate and thankful. “I’ve been watching the news,” she says into my shoulder. “Every update. Every press conference. Every time his name came up, I thought that was it. I thought I was going to lose him again.”
“He was injured. But it’s Seth. He can handle more than most people.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes red, mouth trembling. “Thank goodness.”
She steps aside and lets me in. The door closes softly behind us.
The house smells like clean laundry and something warm cooking. It smells safe. The normalcy presses in on me, bright and gentle in a way that almost hurts. This place hasn’t been touched by the things Seth and I carry in our bones.
Footsteps move through the hallway.
A girl appears first, talking into her phone, voice animated as she complains about something. She slows for half a second when she notices me standing there.
Samantha glances toward her. “That’s my daughter, Elise.”
The girl lifts a distracted hand in greeting before continuing down the hall, already back in whatever argument is happening on the other end of the call.
A boy follows a few seconds later, rolling his eyes like he has heard the same complaint a hundred times.
