3rd person pov
Amara Spellman hands trembled as she opened the encrypted email that had appeared in her private account that morning. The message was brief:
If you want to see your daughter, come alone to Café Laurent at 2 PM. Private room in the back. Tell no one.
She showed it to the family immediately, despite the warning. They gathered in Xavier's study, a plan quickly forming. Hayden would ensure security teams were stationed discreetly around the café. Zuri and Zari would monitor surveillance from a van nearby. Kario would coordinate with their most trusted personnel. Xavier would wait in a car down the street. And Lenna—after much argument—would remain at the mansion, though she protested vehemently.
"She's my twin!" Lenna had shouted, tears streaming down her face. "I should be there!"
"If she's been watching us, she knows you're supposed to be dead to the world," Xavier reasoned. "Your presence might frighten her away."
In the end, Lenna reluctantly agreed, but only after extracting a promise that they would bring Amiriah home by any means necessary.
At precisely 1:55 PM, Amara entered Café Laurent alone, her heart racing beneath her composed exterior. She was shown to the private room in the back, a small space with a single table and two chairs. She sat, hands folded in her lap to hide their trembling, and waited.
From the window of the room, she saw a slender figure approach the café—a young woman in a dark coat, her face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat and a mask that covered her from nose to chin. There was something in the way she moved, a familiar grace that made Amara's breath catch in her throat.
The woman paused outside, scanning the café before her gaze settled on the private room where Amara waited. For a moment, it seemed she might turn and leave, but then she entered the café, walking directly toward the room with purpose in her stride.
The door opened silently, and the masked woman stepped inside. She took the seat across from Amara without a word, dark eyes studying her from above the mask.
They stared at each other in silence, years of separation stretching between them like a chasm. Amara drank in what little she could see of the woman's face—those eyes, so like her own, yet harder, more guarded than she remembered.
"I had the tests done," Amara finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The DNA confirms you are Amiriah."
The woman remained silent, not confirming or denying.
"I need to see something," Amara continued gently. "May I look behind your ear?"
After a moment's hesitation, the woman tilted her head slightly, allowing Amara to lean forward. With trembling fingers, Amara brushed aside a strand of hair to reveal a small crescent-shaped birthmark behind her left ear—identical to Lenna's.
Tears sprang to Amara's eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "It's really you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "My baby girl."
She reached out instinctively to touch Amiriah's face, but her daughter jerked backward, away from the contact. The rejection was like a physical blow, and Amara couldn't hide the hurt that flashed across her expression.
"I'm sorry," she said, withdrawing her hand. "I just... we thought you were dead. All these years..."
Questions tumbled from her lips then—where had she been, how had she survived, why hadn't she come home sooner? With each question, Amiriah remained silent, only responding by typing brief sentences on her phone and showing the screen to her mother.
I survived the fire.
I couldn't come back before.
I don't trust easily anymore.
The answers were cryptic, revealing nothing of the years in between. Amara wanted to press further, to understand what had happened to her daughter, but the closed expression in Amiriah's eyes warned against it.
After twenty tense minutes, Amiriah glanced at her watch and stood abruptly, clearly intending to leave.
"Wait," Amara pleaded. "When will I see you again? The family—they all want to see you. Especially Lenna."
At the mention of her twin's name, something flickered in Amiriah's eyes—a complex emotion too quick to identify. But she didn't respond, just turned toward the door.
"Please," Amara called after her. "Just tell me how to reach you."
Amiriah paused, typing one last message before showing it to her mother:
I'll contact you when I'm ready.
Then she was gone, moving swiftly through the café toward the exit. Amara fumbled for her phone with shaking hands, dialing Xavier.
"She's leaving," she said urgently. "It's her, Xavier. It's really her."
"We're ready," came his calm reply. "Everything is in place."
Amiriah stepped out of the café, her mind racing. The meeting had been even more difficult than she'd anticipated. Seeing her mother's face up close, noting the new lines of grief around her eyes, had stirred emotions she thought she'd buried long ago.
As she walked toward her car, she noticed an elderly woman stumble and fall several yards ahead. Without thinking, Amiriah hurried forward to help, supporting the woman's frail form as she helped her to her feet.
"Thank you, dear," the woman murmured gratefully, her papery hand clasping Amiriah's.
It happened so quickly—the sharp prick in her palm, like a needle. Amiriah jerked back in shock, staring at the tiny puncture mark. Understanding dawned immediately. She'd been drugged.
She stumbled toward her car, vision already beginning to blur. Desperately, she tried to summon her darkness, to create a portal back to the safe house, to Lani. But the drug was fast-acting, designed specifically to incapacitate quickly. Her darkness flickered weakly around her fingertips before dissipating entirely.
The last thing she saw before consciousness faded was her father's face, catching her as she fell.
Xavier gathered his daughter's limp form in his arms, cradling her with a gentleness that belied his imposing stature. He carried her to the waiting car where Amara immediately slid in beside them, pulling Amiriah's unconscious body against her own.
"Was this necessary?" Amara whispered, stroking her daughter's hair. "Drugging our own child?"
"You saw how she reacted to you," Xavier replied, his voice strained. "She wasn't going to come home willingly." He started the car, heading toward the mansion. "This way, she'll be safe with us when she wakes. We can explain everything then."
The drive back was silent, Amara holding Amiriah as though afraid she might disappear again. When they pulled up to the mansion, the rest of the family was waiting anxiously at the entrance.
Hayden stepped forward first as Xavier carried Amiriah from the car. "Is she alright?"
"Just sedated," Xavier confirmed. "Help me get her inside."
They moved through the mansion to Amiriah's old bedroom, preserved exactly as she had left it four years ago. Xavier laid her gently on the bed, her face still partially hidden by the mask.
The siblings gathered around, staring down at the unconscious form of their lost sister. Zuri and Zari stood close together, their usual composure cracking as they looked at Amiriah. Kario hovered at the foot of the bed, his expression a mixture of disbelief and hope.
Slowly, Xavier reached out and removed the mask covering the lower half of Amiriah's face. A collective gasp filled the room as they saw her fully for the first time.
"She's beautiful," Amara whispered, tears streaming down her face as she reached out to touch her daughter's cheek. "All grown up."
Hayden had to turn away, overcome by emotion. Zuri and Zari each took one of Amiriah's hands, examining the long fingers that matched their own. Kario simply stared, memorizing the face of the sister who had idolized him as a child.
The door burst open, and Lenna rushed in, having ignored all instructions to wait downstairs. She froze at the sight of her twin lying on the bed, her face a mirror of Lenna's own.
"Miri," she breathed, using the childhood nickname no one else ever used. She moved to the bed in a daze, sinking down beside her twin. Tears flowed freely down her face as she stroked Amiriah's hair. "I knew you were alive. I felt you. All this time."
Hours passed as the family maintained their vigil. They took turns sitting with Amiriah, watching for any sign that the sedative was wearing off. Amara refused to leave, remaining by her daughter's side, occasionally humming the lullaby she had sung to the twins as children.
As evening fell, Amiriah began to stir. Small movements at first—a twitch of her fingers, a slight turn of her head. She made a small sound, almost a whimper, her hand reaching out across the bed as if searching for something—or someone—that wasn't there.
"Shh, it's alright," Amara soothed, mistaking the gesture for simple disorientation. "You're home now."
Amiriah's eyes fluttered, then suddenly opened wide. For a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling, confusion evident in her expression. Then she registered the familiar scent of her mother's perfume, the warmth of a hand holding hers, and the soft voices that had once been her world.
She turned her head slowly, her gaze locking with her mother's tear-filled eyes.
"Mama?" she whispered, the word slipping out unbidden, a remnant of the child she had once been.
The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as Amiriah fully awakened to find herself surrounded by the family she had both longed for and feared for four long years.