The storm was over, but Bly Manor hadn't settled.
The wind slipped through cracks in the walls, lifting the curtains like they were breathing. The house groaned softly, old and tired.
Ivy lay awake.
The bed felt wrong. Too cold. Like it remembered someone else. The wallpaper peeled at the edges, shadows clinging to the corners of the room. The silence pressed down on her chest.
Then—
A creak in the hallway.
Ivy's eyes opened fully.
Just the house, she told herself. Just old wood.
Another sound followed.
Footsteps.
Slow. Even. Not rushing.
Her heart began to pound.
A soft knock tapped against the door.
"Ivy?" a voice whispered. "Are you awake?"
She knew that voice.
Ivy sat up, every muscle tight. After a second, she stood and crossed the room. Her hand hovered on the handle before she finally opened the door.
Miles stood in the hallway.
Moonlight spilled in from the far window, cutting his face in half. His hair was messy. He wore a black shirt, barefoot on the cold floor.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I couldn't sleep."
"It's late," Ivy whispered.
"I know," he replied. "But I thought you might be awake too."
She hesitated.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
His voice wasn't pushy. It wasn't kind either. It sounded like he already knew the answer.
Ivy stepped aside.
Miles entered and sat in the armchair near the bed like it belonged to him. He stretched his legs out, calm. Too calm.
Ivy stayed standing.
"What do you want?" she asked.
He shrugged lightly. "I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"School," he said. "The phone call. Kate."
Ivy's stomach tightened. "So it's true?"
Miles looked at her slowly. "Yes."
"Why?" she asked. "Why would you do that?"
He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, he said nothing.
"They said things," he finally murmured. "About Flora. About my family."
His eyes lowered to hers.
"I told them to stop. They laughed."
He sat forward now, elbows on his knees.
"I didn't plan it," he said. "I just… acted."
"You hurt someone," Ivy said softly.
"One of them," Miles corrected. "The rest ran."
He stood and took a step toward her.
"I'm not proud," he said. "But when someone talks about the people you love like they're nothing—sometimes you protect what's yours."
Another step.
"You understand that, don't you?" he asked gently. "If someone said something terrible about Kate… or about you."
Ivy's back brushed the wall. Cold stone through thin fabric.
"I don't know," she whispered.
Miles tilted his head, studying her. "I think you do."
Something thick filled the space between them. Not fear. Not comfort. Something heavier.
"You're not like them," he said. "You listen."
Ivy met his eyes.
Her heart was racing.
After a moment, Miles stepped back.
"I should go," he said, suddenly softer. "Didn't mean to scare you."
He paused at the door.
"Goodnight, Ivy."
His smile was small. Polite. Controlled.
Then he left.
The door clicked shut.
Ivy sank onto the bed, hands shaking though she couldn't explain why. The room felt colder than before.
Outside the window, something dark passed by.
When she looked again—
Nothing.
She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.