he room was still. Not the cold kind of stillness from earlier. This was warmer. Full of weight.
Tessa sat on the edge of Adrian's bed, her face still damp, her fingers curled against the hem of her shirt like she didn't know what to do with her hands. Her eyes were red, voice thick but steady when she finally said, "This won't do."
She looked at him, eyes softer now, half a smile creeping through the grief. "You're getting the scolding of your life," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "But not from me."
Adrian managed a small breath of laughter. Not because it was funny, but because it was the only thing that didn't ache.
Tessa stood up and walked to the door. Her back was straight. Strong.
She opened it, stepped out into the hall, then raised her voice. Not yelling — just firm."Everyone to the living room. Now."
Her tone didn't invite debate.
Adrian heard movement almost immediately. A door creaked open to the left. Another to the right. Lira's slippers padded across the hallway, quiet but hurried. Mira's voice came from somewhere below, low and confused. His father's footsteps were measured — slow, like he already knew what was coming.
Adrian didn't move yet. He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely.
He could feel it building. Not panic. Not fear. Just the awareness that once he stepped into the next room, something would be different.
This wasn't about keeping secrets anymore. That part had already failed.
Now it was about what came after.
He stood, smoothed out the front of his shirt, and walked to the door.
The hallway was dim, quiet. A kind of hush settled over the second floor — not silence, exactly, but the kind of muffled tension that comes before something breaks.
He walked slowly down the stairs. No one spoke.
When he reached the first floor and turned toward the living room, he saw them.
All of them.
Mira sat on the far end of the couch, her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were wide, rimmed with concern. Lira sat beside her, back straight, jaw tight. She looked ready to cry, but wasn't letting herself. Not yet.
Tessa stood with her arms crossed, leaning lightly against the wall, eyes locked on Adrian the whole time.
Harold stood at the back, near the edge of the dining table. He hadn't sat down.
Adrian stepped fully into the room and stopped just before the center.
The floor was clean. Lights were warm. Everything looked ordinary. But nothing felt the same.
Tessa nodded
The living room was too bright.
Even with every light turned off everything is bright, the sun still poured through the windows, unmoving, shadowless, and pale. It coated the walls like frost, draining the warmth from everything.
Adrian then stood just before the couch, hands in his pockets. His mother sat on the far side, posture stiff. Lira clung to a throw pillow, knuckles white. Tessa was beside her, calm but watching closely. Their father, Harold, sat at the edge of his seat arms resting on his knees, gaze fixed on the floor.
No one spoke.
Adrian took a breath. Not to steady himself just to start.
"I won't waste your time," he said. "You've all waited long enough."
Lira's eyes flicked up to him. She didn't speak.
"I'm not sick," Adrian continued. "Not like a cold. Not like something a prescription fixes. I was... breaking. Quietly."
Mira shifted. "Adrian"
"Let me finish," he said gently. "Please."
She nodded, pressing her lips together.
"I didn't tell anyone because I thought it would pass. I told myself it was stress. Fatigue. I told myself that if I just worked harder, helped more people, fixed more lives, I'd feel something again. Anything."
He looked down at his own hands. They didn't tremble.
"But it didn't pass. And one night, I realized I couldn't remember the last time I felt joy. Or peace. Or even pain that wasn't dull and backgrounded."
He paused.
"I thought I was the problem. I thought I was weak. A fraud. That if I disappeared, no one would really notice not for long."
Silence.
Tessa looked at him, lips pressed thin. Lira's eyes were already glassy.
"So," Adrian said. "I planned it."
Mira covered her mouth. Her body went still.
"I waited until no one was home. I left everything clean" His voice didn't shake.
"And I took the pills two bottles"
The air left the room in an instant.
Lira sobbed once, sharp and sudden.
Mira gasped, her hand still clamped over her mouth.
Tessa looked away.
"I didn't expect to wake up," Adrian said softly. "But I did. Alone. Dry-mouthed. And… alive."
Harold's head lifted. "Why?"
Adrian met his father's eyes. "I don't know. The dosage should've worked. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe the body just doesn't want to die, even when the mind gives up."
He swallowed.
"But when I opened my eyes… something changed."
Mira stood slowly, crossing the room as if pulled by a string.
Adrian didn't move.
"I realized that if I could face that if I could die and come back —then everything else seemed… lighter."
"Lighter?" Mira repeated. Her voice cracked. "Adrian"
"I don't mean easier," he said. "Just clearer. Like I had nothing left to lose, so I could stop pretending. I could stop lying to myself about being okay."
Mira reached him and touched his cheek. "I didn't see it. I didn't see it..."
He looked at her, and for a moment, he was just someone's son again.
"I know," he said. "None of you could."
Lira stood next. She walked over and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
"You scared us," she whispered. "You really scared us."
He rested his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
"You should've told me," she said, voice trembling. "I would've I could've"
"I didn't want you to carry it," Adrian said.
Lira shook her head, face buried against him.
Harold rose slowly from the couch.
He crossed the room in three steps, stood in front of his only son.
Then, without a word, he raised one hand and struck Adrian sharply across the cheek.
It wasn't hard enough to bruise. Just hard enough to say what words couldn't.
Adrian didn't flinch.
Harold reached forward and pulled him into a hug.
"Don't do it again," he said quietly.
"I won't," Adrian whispered back.
They stood like that for a while.
When the family finally stepped back, the silence that followed wasn't heavy. It wasn't sharp.
It was just… quiet.
Real quiet.
The kind that came after something hard had been said.
Adrian looked at them. At all of them.
He'd spoken the truth.
And they were still here.
The house felt different now.
No lighter. No heavier. Just quieter.
Not the kind of silence that demanded answers, or held unspoken grief.
The kind that followed truth.
Adrian sat back down on the couch, hands folded in his lap. Lira hadn't moved from his side. She still held onto his arm like it might vanish if she let go.
Across from them, Mira sat on the edge of the coffee table, her hands wrapped tightly around his.
"I didn't know," she whispered again, eyes rimmed red. "I should have known."
"There was nothing to know," Adrian said softly. "I didn't leave signs."
"That's not the point," she said. "I'm your mother. I should've seen it anyway."
Tessa, sitting on the far armrest, exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. Her arms were crossed, but her face had lost its tension.
"He didn't want to be seen, Mom," she said quietly. "He thought it was protecting us."
"I was wrong," Adrian said.
His voice was calm, but something in it cracked slightly just enough to be real.
"You weren't wrong," Mira said. "You were in pain."
Lira squeezed his arm tighter.
"You're here now," she said, wiping her cheek. "That's what matters."
Harold had returned to his seat. His hands rested on his knees again, head bowed. But he wasn't withdrawn. Just quiet.
Tessa leaned forward, her voice low.
"Adrian," she said. "Are you going to stay?"
He nodded once.
"I can't promise I won't struggle," he said. "But I'm not going anywhere."
Mira's lip trembled. She reached forward and kissed his forehead.
"That's all I need to hear," she whispered.
They sat like that for a long time.
The world outside had no color. No shadow. Just a pale, fixed light through the windows — the kind that should've felt unnatural.
But inside this house, the light didn't matter.
It wasn't warm. But it was steady.
And so were they.
Eventually, Tessa leaned back and closed her eyes.
"Now we know," she said.
Adrian looked at her.
"And you're still here," he said quietly.
Harold lifted his head. "Of course we are."
Mira reached out again. "You're not alone anymore, Adrian."
Adrian looked down at her hand, then at Lira's grip on his arm. Then at Tessa's quiet strength, and his father's steady gaze.
He nodded slowly.
"Thank you," he said.
No one spoke for a while.
They just sat there, together.
The room didn't need more words.
For the first time in a long time, the silence was enough.