Elara hated Sundays. Not because of the slow diner shifts or the fading weekend, but because Sundays meant family lunch—and her mother's smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"I made your favorite," her mom said as she set the casserole down with a practiced elegance. "Spinach and goat cheese quiche. Organic, of course."
Elara nodded, sliding into the stiff dining chair. "Thanks, Mom."
Her father was already halfway through his plate, glasses slipping down his nose as he scrolled through emails. He barely looked up.
"You look tired," her mother said, slicing neatly. "Are you still working nights at that diner?"
"It's just a job," Elara murmured. "I like it."
"You could do better," her mother said with a pointed smile. "If you just applied yourself. You were always such a smart girl."
Her chest tightened. They never asked if she was happy—only if she was doing enough.
She forced a smile. "It's steady. That's enough for now."
---
Back at the apartment, Jenna was sprawled across Elara's bed, thumbing through a magazine she definitely didn't buy.
"Your mom still treating you like a disappointing houseplant?" she asked, flipping a page.
Elara flopped beside her with a groan. "Like one that didn't bloom."
Jenna snorted. "You should've seen my mom last Thanksgiving. Called me 'Jezebel' for wearing red lipstick."
They both laughed.
It was always like this—Jenna's chaos wrapped around Elara's quiet, balancing each other in a way that made sense. They'd met in high school, bonded over being the only girls who brought books to lunch.
"You ever think about leaving?" Jenna asked suddenly. "Like—actually leaving. New city, new life."
Elara looked toward the window. The wind nudged the curtain again.
"Sometimes," she whispered. "But something keeps me here."
Jenna raised a brow. "Something? Or someone?"
Elara flushed. "No one."
But the chill that ran down her spine didn't feel like a lie.
---
That night, as Elara slept, her phone buzzed once. No name. No number.
A blank message.
Just a dot.
She stared at it for a long time, heart thudding.
Somewhere outside, across the rooftops, something waited.
And watched.