The sky had turned amber by the time they stepped onto the porch.
The sun sat low, spilling warm orange light across the street, stretching long shadows over the steps. The air felt cooler now, the kind of cool that only came right before night settled in.
Ji-Hyun stood at the doorway.
He'd changed into a soft grey shirt and dark trousers, neat but simple. The fabric hung a little loose on him, sleeves brushing his wrists when he moved.
His glasses sat properly on his nose for once, catching the last light when he lifted his head.
He looked at them—really looked at them.
His fingers twisted together nervously.
"T-Thank y-you…" he said, voice hesitant, breath shallow. "F-for coming. And f-for… being here with me."
He bowed his head slightly, embarrassed the second the words left his mouth.
Amanda smiled immediately.
It was bright, easy, the kind of smile that didn't demand anything in return. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and tilted her head.
"I just met you," she said softly, "but it feels like I've known you for a long time."
Ji-Hyun blinked. "R-Really?"
She nodded. "You remind me of someone."
Someone gentle.Someone who survived by being kind.
Ji-Hyun smiled shyly, cheeks warming.
Then he turned to Marvello.
She stood still, hands at her sides, expression unreadable—dark hair resting against her shoulders, eyes calm and distant like she was already preparing to leave.
Ji-Hyun swallowed.
"Th-thank you," he said again, quieter now. "F-for always walking me home."
Marvello met his eyes.
For a moment, her face didn't change.
Then—barely, almost imperceptibly—her expression softened.
"You don't have to thank me," she said. "I promised."
They stepped off the porch.
Amanda waved cheerfully. "Get some rest, okay?"
Ji-Hyun lifted his hand and waved back, smile small but real.
As Marvello and Amanda began walking away, their footsteps quiet against the pavement, Ji-Hyun watched them go.
Then—
"M-Marvello!"
She stopped.
Turned.
Ji-Hyun hesitated only a second before running down the steps. His movements were awkward, rushed, unsure—like he might change his mind halfway.
He stopped in front of her.
Paused.
Then, gently—carefully—he wrapped his arms around her.
Not tight.
Just close enough.
His cheek brushed her shoulder. His forehead rested near her collarbone.
Marvello froze.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Her hands stayed at her sides.
She didn't hug him back.
But she didn't pull away either.
It had been years—too many years—since anyone had touched her like this without wanting something. Without fear. Without control.
Amanda blinked, surprised.
Marvello stayed still.
Let him have the moment.
Ji-Hyun's voice was barely a whisper. "Th-thank you."
He pulled back quickly, embarrassed, bowing his head again.
Marvello looked down at him.
Then she leaned in just enough to speak quietly.
"Stay safe," she whispered.
He nodded hard.
She turned away.
Amanda waved enthusiastically as they walked off. Ji-Hyun waved back, smiling wide now.
Marvello didn't look back.
She didn't wave.
If she did—if she let him get any closer—it would hurt when she had to walk away again.
Behind them, Ji-Hyun stood on the porch a moment longer, smile lingering, heart lighter.
Then he turned and went inside.
The door closed softly.
--
The house was already awake when they got back.
Not lively—
alert.
The lights in the living room were on, sharp white against the night outside. It wasn't fully dark yet, but late enough that the silence carried weight. Late enough for consequences to be waiting.
Marvello stepped inside first.
Her posture didn't change. Backpack slid off one shoulder, then the other. She slipped her shoes off neatly by the door, movements unhurried, controlled.
Amanda followed, just as calm.
No fear.
No apology.
Aunt Mary sat on the couch, spine straight, lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes flicked to Marvello like she'd just dragged dirt onto the floor.
Uncle Takahashi stood near the window, arms crossed, face carved into practiced disapproval.
"So," Aunt Mary said coolly, "you brought her back."
Amanda tilted her head, innocent. "Home, you mean? she lives her I mean"
Mary's gaze sharpened. "Don't play clever. You know exactly what you did."
"She brought the devil back although I knew she would come back," Uncle Takahashi added flatly, eyes fixed on Marvello. "After everything."`
Marvello didn't react.
She stood there quietly, eyes lowered, face blank. Not submissive—absent. As if they were talking about someone else.
Amanda didn't argue.
She knew better.
"She walked me home," Amanda said lightly. "It would've been rude not to."
Mary scoffed. "You've always had poor judgment."
Nairo stood near the hallway, arms tense at his sides, jaw tight. He looked like he wanted to speak—no, needed to.
"This is exactly what I was trying to—"
"Enough," Amanda cut in sharply, turning on him with sudden drama, hand lifting as if bored already. "I just got here. Spare me the lecture."
Nairo froze.
His eyes burned.
With nowhere to send the anger, he grabbed the nearest thing—a ceramic flower pot from the table.
He hurled it.
It shattered against the floor right beside Marvello's legs.
The sound was sharp. Violent.
Fragments skidded across the tile. A thin line of red appeared along Marvello's calf where a shard had caught skin.
No one breathed.
Marvello looked down.
Not startled.
Not angry.
She noted it the way one notes dust on the floor.
Then she looked up.
Aunt Mary sucked in a breath. "Nairo—"
Amanda's eyes flicked to the blood, then to Marvello's face.
Marvello didn't acknowledge it.
She stepped forward, calmly reached up, and gathered her hair at the nape of her neck. Fingers precise. Habitual.
She tied it back.
The room watched.
Then she turned toward the kitchen.
"I'll start the chores," she said quietly.
Three words.
That was all.
Mary blinked. Uncle Takahashi frowned, confused. Nairo stared like he'd lost the script.
Marvello walked past the broken pot without hesitation, bare feet avoiding the shards automatically. She washed her hands. Picked up a cloth. Moved like this was routine.
Like this was home.
Amanda smiled.
Not sweetly.
Proudly.
"I'll help her," Amanda said.
Mary snapped, "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Amanda interrupted, already stepping forward. "She's been out all day."
Nairo opened his mouth again.
Amanda shot him a look—sharp, warning, theatrical enough to shut him down completely.
He turned away, fists clenched.
Mary hesitated, then waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. Just… don't make a mess."
Amanda nodded cheerfully. "Wouldn't dream of it."
In the kitchen, Marvello worked silently. Dishes. Counters. Movements efficient. No complaint. No pause.
Amanda stood beside her, matching her rhythm.
"You're bleeding," Amanda murmured under her breath.
Marvello didn't look up. "I know."
Amanda glanced toward the living room, then back. "You didn't even flinch."
Marvello wiped the counter slowly. "Why would I?"
Amanda smiled wider.
''I can clean your wound for you after this.''
''Sure'' Marvello answered bluntly.
They worked side by side.
And for the first time, the house felt unsettled—not because Marvello had returned, but because she was acting like she had never left.
And that
terrified them far more.