The first crack in their quiet life didn’t come with a warning—it came with a sound. A sharp, deafening bang that split through the stillness of the night. You woke instantly, heart racing, the echo of it still ringing in your ears. For a second, everything was silent again. Too silent. The space beside you was cold. Caleb? you called softly, voice unsteady. No answer. You pushed the blankets off and stepped into the hallway, the floor cool beneath your feet. The house felt different—wrong somehow, like it was holding its breath. A faint light spilled in from downstairs, just enough to guide you. Another sound. Not as loud this time. A dull thud. Your stomach dropped. You moved before you could think better of it, each step slower than the last as you reached the bottom of the stairs. The front door was slightly open, the night air creeping in. And just beyond it— Caleb stood there. His back was to you, shoulders tense, one arm still extended. For a moment, your brain couldn’t piece it together. Then you saw it—the gun in his hand. And the figure on the ground. Everything in you froze. …Caleb? His name barely left your lips. He turned. Too fast. His eyes found yours instantly, and for the first time since you’d known him—really known him—they didn’t soften. There was something else there. Something cold. Something sharp.
You weren’t supposed to be awake, he says quietly. Her whole body trembles. What… what did you do? He steps toward her immediately, slipping the gun out of sight like it was never there, like she hadn’t just seen it. Like there isn’t someone lying motionless behind him. Hey, he murmurs, reaching for her, his voice softening in that familiar way that always calms her. It’s okay. You’re okay. Lets get you back to bed, pipsqueak?