3rd Person pov
The grand dining room of the Spellman mansion was alight with candles and crystal chandeliers, giving the space a warm, golden glow. The family had gathered for their first proper dinner with Amirah since her return—a momentous occasion that Amara had spent all day preparing for, ensuring all of her daughter's favorite foods were perfectly executed.
Amirah entered last, pausing momentarily at the threshold as if gathering courage. She wore a simple black dress that contrasted starkly with her family's more colorful attire, her hair pulled back in a severe bun that emphasized the wariness in her eyes. With deliberate steps, she approached the table, her gaze sweeping the room as if cataloging potential threats and escape routes.
"Riri, we saved you a seat here," Amara said warmly, gesturing to a place at the far end of the table.
The family had thoughtfully left the chairs around Amiriah empty, giving her the space they now understood she needed. No one would accidentally touch her, no one would crowd her. It was a small accommodation, but one that showed they were trying to understand.
Xavier raised his glass. "To family reunited," he said, his deep voice filling the room.
The others echoed the sentiment, lifting their glasses. Amiriah simply nodded, her posture remaining rigid and alert.
As the meal progressed, conversation flowed carefully around topics deemed safe. Hayden discussed recent philanthropic projects, Zuri and Zari recounted a fashion show they had attended, and Kario enthusiastically described technological advancements in shadow manipulation. Through it all, Amiriah listened more than she spoke, her watchful eyes tracking every movement, her body tensed as if ready to flee—or fight—at the slightest provocation.
"How is the food, Riri?" Amara asked hopefully during a lull in conversation. "I made sure Cook prepared everything the way you used to like it."
Amiriah glanced down at her plate, where she had been meticulously separating each food item from the others. "It's fine," she said simply, not elaborating.
The tension in the room was palpable, everyone hyperaware of Amiriah's discomfort despite their efforts to appear normal. Yet Amara continued to smile bravely, clearly clinging to the belief that having her daughter at the family table meant they were whole again—that healing had begun.
Suddenly, Tara, who had been quiet for most of the meal, made a face and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Everyone turned to look at her with concern.
"I'm fine," she reassured them, placing a hand on her rounded belly. "The baby is just being very active tonight. Seems to be practicing for the Olympic gymnastics team in there."
Hayden smiled proudly, placing his hand over his wife's to feel the movement. "Strong, just like a Spellman should be," he said softly.
Then, a sound so unexpected that it momentarily silenced the table—a quiet chuckle from Amiriah. The family turned as one, startled to see a small, genuine smile playing at the corners of her lips as she shook her head slightly, clearly lost in some private memory.
As quickly as it appeared, the smile vanished, her expression shuttering closed once more. But it had been there—a brief glimpse of the Amiriah they had once known, the one who could laugh freely, without fear.
Encouraged by this tiny breakthrough, Amara leaned forward. "Did you have something to add, sweetheart?"
Amiriah hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Just... remembered something."
Sensing her reluctance to elaborate, the family returned to their meal, though curious glances were exchanged. What memory had momentarily broken through Amiriah's carefully constructed walls? What connection had she felt to Tara's experience?
As the main course concluded and dessert was being prepared, family members began to offer individual apologies to Amiriah—carefully worded, earnest expressions of regret for their roles in the past.
"I'm sorry for what we did to you," Hayden said soberly.
"We should have questioned things more," Zuri added, with Zari nodding in agreement. "The reports never seemed right, but we accepted them because they came from professionals."
"I didnt even try to understand what you went through Im sorry that we had drugged you that day and brought you here," Kario admitted. "But I missed you every day, Miri."
Xavier's apology, when it came, was perhaps the most difficult for Amiriah to hear. "Sending you to that hospital was the greatest mistake of my life," he said, his usual commanding voice subdued. "I thought it was the right decision. I thought they would help you. I never imagined..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication hung in the air. He never imagined the horrors she would endure there. The abuse. The experiments.
Amiriah's discomfort was immediately visible—her shoulders tensing, her breathing quickening slightly, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. At the mention of the hospital, her skin seemed to crawl, her fingertips gripping the white tablecloth.
Lenna, ever attuned to her twin's emotional state, quickly intervened. "Did I ever tell you about the time Hayden found out Tara was pregnant?" she asked brightly, deliberately changing the subject. "He actually fainted right in the middle of a board meeting when she called with the news!"
Hayden groaned good-naturedly. "Must you tell that story at every family gathering?"
"Absolutely," Lenna replied with a mischievous grin. "It's my solemn duty as your sister to ensure you never live it down."
The tension in the room eased as laughter rippled around the table. Even Amiriah seemed to relax slightly, the darkness receding from her fingertips.
As dessert was served—a delicate lemon soufflé that had always been Amiriah's favorite—conversation turned to lighter topics. The upcoming arrival of Hayden and Tara's baby, the renovation of the east wing, a charity gala being planned for the winter.
When the meal concluded, the family moved to the drawing room for coffee. To everyone's surprise, Amiriah approached Tara before following them, leaning down to whisper something in her ear before straightening and walking away without waiting for a response.
Tara's expression shifted from surprise to thoughtful consideration as Amiriah departed. When the others gathered around her, curious about the exchange, she smiled.
"She told me that soft music, warm chamomile tea, and gentle circular touches would help calm the baby when they're active like this," Tara explained, her hand resting on her belly. "She said it works almost every time."
The family exchanged meaningful glances, absorbing this unexpected piece of advice—both for its practicality and for what it might reveal about Amiriah.
"How would she know that?" Kario asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
Tara simply shrugged, though her eyes held understanding. "Some women just have natural maternal instincts," she said diplomatically, choosing not to voice her own suspicions.
Later, as the family dispersed to their respective rooms for the night, Lenna lingered in the hallway, watching Amiriah make her way back toward her old bedroom. Her twin moved with purpose, as if eager to return to something—or someone—waiting for her.
The brief moment of connection during dinner—that small chuckle when Tara had mentioned her active baby—had confirmed what Lenna already suspected. Amiriah's knowledge about soothing an unborn child wasn't theoretical. The way her hand had unconsciously moved to her own stomach as she smiled, the distant look in her eyes as if recalling a specific memory, the advice she'd offered Tara that was too precise to be guesswork.
Amiriah had been pregnant. Amiriah had carried a child. And given her fierce protection of whatever the darkness wolves had returned to her, that child was almost certainly alive and hidden somewhere in the mansion.
The revelation filled Lenna with complex emotions. Joy at the thought of a niece or nephew she hadn't known existed. Sorrow that Amiriah hadn't felt safe enough to share this with her—with any of them. Anger at whoever had fathered this child, given what Amiriah had revealed about her treatment at GreyStone. And determination to do better this time, to prove to her twin that her child would be loved and protected by the entire Spellman family.
As she watched Amiriah disappear around a corner, Lenna made a silent vow. She wouldn't push. She wouldn't intrude. She would give her sister the time and space she needed to trust them again. But when Amiriah was ready—when she chose to introduce her child to the family—Lenna would be there, ready to embrace both mother and child with all the love and protection the Harrington name could provide.
Because whatever had happened to Amiriah, whatever horrors she had endured, she had clearly found something worth living for, something that gave her strength. And Lenna would do everything in her power to ensure that precious bond remained unbroken.