*Trigger warnings: nightmares, injury, trauma, PTSD.
I don't know when it started. Maybe it was the silence in the room, the oppressive stillness that felt too heavy, or maybe it was the shadows that seemed to stretch too far, curling around the corners of my mind. All I knew was that something wasn't right.
The nightmare had been waiting for me, lurking in the shadows of my mind like an old, familiar predator. I could feel its pull the moment I closed my eyes, but I had hoped—desperately—that maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight, I'd finally escape it.
But no. The darkness closed in, cold and suffocating, wrapping itself around me, tightening with every heartbeat. I could hear them before I even saw them—the voices, taunting, cruel, familiar. They were shouting my name, each syllable dragging me deeper into the nightmare.
I tried to move, tried to run, but my legs felt like they were made of lead, heavy and unresponsive. My breath came in shallow gasps as I stumbled forward, but it was no use. The ground beneath me seemed to shift, uneven and treacherous, as if the very earth was conspiring to keep me trapped.
Please, no... not again. My mind screamed the words, but they felt so far away, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread.
I looked up, and that's when I saw them—the faces I had tried so hard to forget. Their eyes were cold, filled with malice, and their smiles twisted into something dark and hungry. They moved toward me, slow at first, but as their footsteps grew louder, they quickened, closing the distance between us.
No. No, please... The panic surged in my chest, my pulse racing, my vision narrowing. My legs were still frozen, my body refusing to cooperate. I opened my mouth to scream, to beg for help, but no sound came. My throat was tight, suffocating.
I was drifting in that space between sleep and wakefulness when the nightmare grabbed hold of me, its icy fingers wrapping around my throat. I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't escape. It was like I was stuck in the same loop, the same place—no matter how hard I fought, it always came back.
The familiar faces, the voices, the darkness... it all came crashing in at once. The fear was so real, so sharp. No. Don't make me go. Please don't make me go. I tried to push away, tried to run, but my body felt paralyzed, trapped under the weight of it.
I gasped for air, my chest tightening with every shallow breath. I could feel my body jerking under the sheets, struggling to break free from whatever hold the nightmare had on me. I was calling out, pleading, but no sound seemed to make it past my lips. It felt like I was drowning in it.
And then, through the chaos, I felt a presence—a warmth, steady and grounding. It was like a lifeline being thrown to me in the middle of the storm.
"Hey, Cherish. Cherish, wake up. You're dreaming, it's just a dream," a voice, soft but firm, cut through the fog. Miras.
I flinched at the sound of his voice, but it didn't feel like the rest of the nightmare. It felt real. His hands were there—touching me, pulling me closer. The tension in my body started to fade, but I couldn't fully escape the fear clinging to me like a second skin.
I tried to focus on his voice. You're safe. You're safe with me. His words were like an anchor, pulling me back from the edge, but the terror was still there, gripping me.
"No... no, please..." I whispered through a strangled breath, unable to form coherent thoughts. "I don't want to go..."
I could feel Miras's arms around me now, holding me close, pulling me out of the nightmare's grasp. His voice was steady, unshaken by the panic I could feel rolling off me. "Cherish, listen to me. You're safe. You're right here with me."
They were getting closer now, their laughter ringing in my ears, drowning out everything else. I could see their faces so clearly now—so painfully clear. The guys who had hurt Miras. The ones who had tormented me, too.
Get away from me! I thought desperately, but my voice, my body, my everything betrayed me. I was stuck. Trapped in this never-ending loop of terror.
"Please," I whispered, but the word was barely a breath, lost in the noise of their taunting.
One of them stepped forward—tall, with dark eyes that seemed to glimmer with cruel amusement. He reached out, his hand stretching toward me. No. Don't touch me. Please don't touch me.
I stumbled back, but the ground seemed to disappear beneath my feet. I fell, tumbling into the darkness, falling faster and faster until the air around me felt like it was crushing me, suffocating me. The laughter, the taunts, the voices—they were all around me, drowning me. I could feel their hands, ghostly and cold, closing in on me, pulling me down further.
I thought I saw him then, a flash of his face—his eyes wide with worry, reaching for me. But before I could reach him, the darkness swallowed him up, leaving only the cold, empty space. I reached out, my arms flailing, desperate, but it was no use.
Where are you?
The darkness was endless, suffocating, and I could feel myself being pulled further into its depths. My chest tightened, and I gasped for air that wasn't there. I reached for something—anything—but there was nothing to hold on to.
And then they were there again, standing over me, their cruel faces leering as they closed in. The one with the dark eyes reached down, his hand wrapping around my throat, tightening with an unbearable pressure.
No. No, no, no...
I tried to scream again, but my throat was tight, my voice strangled in my chest. I kicked, I struggled, but it was like my body wasn't mine anymore. It felt like I was drowning in their hands, suffocating beneath their control.
"Cherish."
I didn't know how he was there, how he was able to cut through the nightmare like a knife, but I knew at that moment that he was real. I could feel him
I clung to him like he was my lifeline. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, frantic and out of control. But he was here. He was real. And his hands were steady on me—so warm, so firm. I didn't know how long I'd been lost in the nightmare, but he was the only thing that felt like reality.
His forehead pressed gently against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you. You're safe."
His words, repeated so softly, began to cut through the fear, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a storm. Slowly, my breathing evened out, my limbs no longer trembling as I sank further into the comfort of his embrace.
I still wasn't fully out of the dream. I could feel the remnants of it lingering at the edges of my mind, but Miras was here. He was holding me, keeping me grounded
My body jerked, a small, broken sound escaping my throat as I gasped for air. The nightmare was still clinging to me, its shadows curling around the edges of my mind, but Miras's presence was pulling me back.
"Look at me," he urged, his tone soft but insistent. "Open your eyes, Cherish. I've got you."
Slowly, painfully, I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim light of the room. My chest was heaving, my breaths ragged and uneven, but the sight of him—his face so close, his expression filled with concern—was enough to remind me that I wasn't alone.
"There you are," he said, relief washing over his features as his hands stayed cradling my face. His thumbs continued their gentle strokes, grounding me in the here and now. "It was just a dream."
I couldn't speak yet, my throat tight with the lingering terror, but I reached out for him instinctively, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me tethered. I stared at him, still caught somewhere between the nightmare and reality. My breaths came in short, ragged bursts, my chest tightening as I tried to ground myself. His touch was firm but careful, his eyes locked on mine, anchoring me.
"You're here with me," he said softly, his forehead pressing lightly against mine. His voice was steady, a calm counterpoint to the chaos still raging in my chest. "Breathe, Cherish. Just breathe."
I tried, forcing myself to match the rhythm of his breaths. In and out. In and out. Slowly, the grip of the nightmare began to loosen, the shadows retreating as his presence filled the space around me.
"I couldn't get out," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I couldn't escape..."
His hands moved to my back, pulling me into his chest. I sank into him, letting his warmth envelop me, letting the steady beat of his heart drown out the echoes of fear. He held me like I might shatter, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along my spine.
"It's over," he murmured into my hair. "Whatever it was, it's over now."
I stayed in his arms, trembling as the last remnants of the nightmare faded from my mind. My cheek was pressed against his chest, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was calming, a soft reminder that I was here, with him, and not trapped in that suffocating darkness anymore.
"You were saying something," Miras murmured, his voice breaking through the quiet. His hand gently smoothed down my hair, his touch as light as a whisper. "In the dream. You said, 'don't make me go.'"
I stiffened slightly, the words hitting me like a ripple of the fear I'd just escaped. I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud. "It was just... it was them again," I said softly, my voice unsteady. "The guys from school. And Nakita. They wouldn't stop. They were pulling me back, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get away."
Miras's arms tightened around me, his warmth wrapping me like a shield. "They're not here, Cherish. They can't hurt you. I won't let them."
The conviction in his voice steadied something in me, though I still felt the ghost of the nightmare lingering, like a weight in my chest. "It felt so real," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like I was drowning in it. And I couldn't find you."
"You found me," he said firmly, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to look at him. His brown eyes were soft but resolute, holding me in place. "I'm right here. Always. No one's going to take you from me."
I bit my lip, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "It's stupid. I shouldn't let this get to me."
"It's not stupid," he interrupted, his voice calm but insistent. "You've been through hell, Cherish. No one comes out of that without scars. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to need time."
His words unraveled something tight inside me, the tears spilling over before I could stop them. He didn't say anything, just held me as I cried, his hand continuing its soothing strokes down my back.
When the sobs finally subsided, I let out a shaky laugh, wiping at my eyes. "I probably look like a mess."
"You look fine to me," he said with a small smile, brushing a tear from my cheek. "Besides, you're still cute when you cry."
I gave him a playful shove, the corners of my lips twitching despite myself. "You're impossible."
"And you're stuck with me," he said, his grin softening as he cupped my face again.
For a split second, I thought he might kiss me. He seemed to lean in for a split second, then realized that maybe kissing me for the first time after I just had a nightmare and cried in his arms wasn't the ideal time.
"My legs are stiff as hell," he groaned, attempting to move himself to a more comfortable position. "Do you want to go take a walk? See if your dad has made any progress on the fancy rubik's cube."
I snorted, the unexpected levity cutting through the haze of vulnerability. "You mean the 'mechanical enigma of unparalleled genius,' as he calls it?"
"Yeah, that." He stretched his legs out with an exaggerated groan, one hand still lightly resting on my shoulder, as if he wasn't quite ready to let go. "Come on, moving around might help clear your head."
For a moment, I hesitated. The thought of going back into the world after breaking down felt overwhelming. But the way he looked at me—not with pity, but with steady reassurance—made the idea seem less daunting.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."
When we stepped inside dad's lab, he was hunched over the workbench, his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose. A tangle of gears and colorful tiles sat before him, along with a mug of coffee that smelled like it had been reheated at least twice.
"You're up late," Dad said without looking up, his voice a mix of distraction and curiosity.
"Could say the same about you," I replied, finding a small bit of comfort in the familiar exchange. "Any progress?"
"Depends on your definition of progress," he muttered, finally glancing up with a wry smile. "If taking it apart and putting it back together counts, then I'm a genius."
"That's a lot of coffee cups, Mr. Battle," Miras said, taking notice of the tower of paper cups that had piled up on my dad's desk. "How do you sleep with all that caffeine?"
My dad looked away, avoiding the question as he continued to tinker with the cube.
"Dad," my voice warned. "You can't be the world's smartest genius if you're sleep deprived.
"I did my astronomy doctorate with less sleep than this," my dad waved his hand, dismissing me. "I'll be fine. Beside's, I called in reinforcements."
"Reinforcements?" Miras repeated.
My dad hummed, "While I was working on the cube last night, this scientist reached out to me, said he spent months studying the energy of the cube. Although he had theories, he was never able to find anything significant about it. But given the recent events and how much it didn't want to be found, he thinks that it's worth re-looking at."
This is why dad needed to sleep. When his brain and body became tired, he lost confidence in himself; doubting what he knew. Although I didn't love the idea of some stranger coming to our home, considering the destruction this thing had caused, it might not have been the worst idea.
"Have we considered that maybe aliens just like shiny things?" My dad gave me a side glare, disapproving of my dark humor.
Miras broke the tense silence with a small chuckle. "Well, reinforcements or not, Mr. Battle, you're not doing anyone any favors by running on fumes. Maybe we should enforce a coffee cap for tonight?"
My dad scoffed, spinning the cube in his hands. The intricate markings on its surface seemed to shift subtly, as if taunting him with their secrets. "You sound like Cherish. Always nagging about my sleep schedule. I told you, I'm fine."
I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorway. "Dad, you used the microwave to heat up your cold brew this morning. You're not fine."
Miras let out a quiet laugh, but quickly cleared his throat when my dad shot him a look. "To be fair, sir, I've done that too. Desperation calls for desperate measures."
My dad rolled his eyes and focused back on the cube. "The point is, we're making progress. I think this researcher—Dr. Amar, by the way—is just the person we need. His notes on the cube's energy signatures align almost perfectly with what I've observed. If we can work together, we might figure out how to open it."
I wasn't entirely convinced, but I knew pushing him further would only make him dig his heels in. "Just promise me you'll get some sleep tonight. You won't do anyone any good if you're too tired to think straight."
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like we'll see, but I caught his eye and added, "I can always recruit Miras to hide your coffee stash if you don't."
The corner of my dad's mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. "You two are relentless."
"Only because we care," I said, flashing him a grin.
The room settled into a rare moment of quiet as my dad set the cube down on the desk, his fingers lingering over its surface like it might disappear if he looked away. The strange patterns etched into the cube seemed to shimmer faintly under the soft light of the desk lamp, almost as if they were alive, reacting to his touch.
"Dr. Amar's coming early tomorrow," my dad finally said, his voice softer now. "I want to get a few more tests done before he arrives. Maybe something will click."
I frowned but held back the lecture. I knew the look in his eyes: determination mingled with obsession. It was the same look he'd had when he'd stayed up for 72 hours straight perfecting the AI systems for the Mars Rover. Back then, the stakes were high, but now? Now we were dealing with something that had already proven it didn't like being poked and prodded.
Miras, ever the peacemaker, shifted the conversation. "So, what do we know about Dr. Amar? Is he one of those eccentric types? Please tell me he's not bringing his own stack of coffee cups to join yours, Mr. Battle."
My dad chuckled, finally easing some of the tension in his shoulders. "I don't know much about him personally, but his work speaks for itself. He's published some groundbreaking papers on energy manipulation and containment fields. If anyone can help us understand this thing, it's him."
"And what happens if he can't?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. The cube had already proven it could unleash chaos, and every time my dad tinkered with it, I couldn't help but imagine another explosion—or worse.
"We keep working," my dad said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "We don't give up, Cherish. That's not how we operate."
"Yeah, well, maybe we should consider how to operate without something blowing up," I muttered, earning another side glare.
****
Miras leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed thoughtfully. "What if it's not just about opening the cube? What if we need to figure out why it's resisting us? If it didn't want to be found, like you said, maybe it's protecting something—or someone."
The suggestion hung in the air, heavy with possibilities. My dad tapped a finger against his lips, clearly intrigued despite himself. "You think it's more than a lockbox? A safeguard?"
"Could be," Miras said with a shrug. "It's just a theory, but if this thing is as advanced as it seems, maybe it's reacting to us because we're not supposed to understand it. Not yet."
"That's... unsettling," I admitted. The idea of the cube having its own agenda wasn't comforting, especially when it had already proven how destructive it could be.
My dad's expression turned contemplative, his gaze fixed on the cube. "Unsettling or not, it's something to consider. Dr. Amar might have insights into its behavior. Until then..." He trailed off, his tone softening. "I'll try to get some rest. For your sake."
"For your sake," I corrected, though I couldn't hide the small smile tugging at my lips. "You're no use to anyone if you keel over from exhaustion."
Miras grinned, pushing himself out of the chair. "I'll take that as my cue to play bad cop if he doesn't listen. You've got backup, Cherish."
"Good," I said, shooting my dad a pointed look. "Because he's stubborn."
My dad sighed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll take a nap."
"Not a nap," I shot back. "A full night's sleep."
He grumbled something unintelligible but finally stood, stretching his arms overhead. As he left the room, I exchanged a look with Miras. The cube sat on the desk between us, its faint hum filling the silence like a whisper.
"You really think it's protecting something?" I asked, my voice low.
Miras hesitated, his eyes locked on the cube. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not going to give up its secrets easily."
"Great," I muttered. "Because we definitely needed another challenge."
Dewey was in for a shock the next morning when Miras called him, explaining that not only had he been jumped and nearly died, but that my house was harboring a very dangerous, possible alien device. Needless to say, he was over within the hour despite it being the middle of a school day. Imani was unfortunate enough to answer the door, allowing Dewey and a duffle bag of equipment to come bursting into the room.
"You guys found another one!"
Miras and I both jumped, no longer focused on the homework we were desperately trying to catch up on.
"Jesus Christ," my hand clutched my chest. "Imani!"
Imani appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression as unimpressed as ever. "Don't start with me," he said flatly. "I didn't realize he was going to barge in like a lunatic."
Dewey, oblivious to the tension he'd caused, set his duffle bag on the floor with a loud thud and pulled out a laptop, several tangled cables, and what looked like a miniature satellite dish. "You seriously didn't think to call me sooner? I could've been here yesterday! What does it do? Is it active? Have you run any scans? Tell me everything."
"Dewey," Miras said, holding up a hand to stem the rapid-fire questions. "First of all, hi. Second, calm down."
"I am calm," Dewey said, his eyes wide with excitement as he started unpacking his gear. "This is just my focused energy."
"It's chaotic energy," I said, still clutching my chest. "And you scared the life out of me."
Dewey waved me off, already setting up his laptop on the coffee table. "You'll live. Now, where's the cube? I heard it's a cube. Is it glowing? Is it levitating? Can I touch it?"
"No, no, and absolutely not," I said, standing up and placing myself between him and the hallway that led to my dad's office. "It's in my dad's lab. And before you even think about storming in there, you need to understand that this thing isn't just some cool toy. It's dangerous, Dewey."
Dewey paused, his hands midair as he unwound a cable. "Dangerous how? Like, 'don't touch it without gloves' dangerous, or 'it could vaporize me' dangerous?"
"The second one," Miras said, shooting him a warning look. "It's not a game, Dewey. The last time someone touched it, an entire block blew up."
I glared at him.
"Okay," Dewey said, nodding slowly, though the excitement hadn't completely left his face. "So... it's definitely alien, right? Or are we still in the maybe phase?"
"We're in the don't mess with it until we know more phase," I said firmly.
"That's no fun," he muttered, but he didn't push past me. Instead, he dropped into the chair Miras had vacated, his fingers flying over his laptop keyboard. "Alright, I'm logging into my system. I've got some electromagnetic field scanners and a spectrometer in the bag. If we can get it close to the cube, I might be able to pick up—"
"Dewey," I interrupted, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You're not running tests without my dad's permission. He'll kill me if he finds out I let you near it. Him and this researcher are working on it right now. He might let you see it after."
"What—who's the researcher?"
"This guy named Dr. Amar," said Miras. "He apparently studied to cube a few years ago."
Dewey perked up, his fingers pausing mid-keystroke. "Wait, the Dr. Amar? The guy who published that paper on anomalous energy fields? He's here?"
"Yes, and he's actually working on the cube," I said, emphasizing the last part. "So, you'll have to wait until they're done before you can play with your gadgets."
"Play?" Dewey looked offended, clutching his laptop like I'd insulted his firstborn child. "This is serious scientific equipment, Cherish. Do you know how much I had to save up to get this spectrometer? And you're just going to let some old guy and your dad hog the alien artifact?"
"Yes," I said flatly, crossing my arms. "Because they're qualified, and you're..." I gestured at his duffle bag of wires and blinking lights. "Well, you."
Miras stifled a laugh as Dewey narrowed his eyes at me. "I'll have you know, I aced Advanced Physics last semester. I'm not just some amateur."
"Dewey," Miras interjected before the argument could spiral, "we're not saying you don't know your stuff. But the last thing we need is for Dr. Amar or Mr. Battle to walk in and see you setting up a DIY lab in the living room."
"Exactly," I said, gesturing to Miras like he'd just proven my point. "So, chill. You'll get your chance—maybe—once they've done their thing."
Dewey grumbled under his breath but reluctantly closed his laptop. "Fine. I'll wait. But if they miss something obvious, don't come crying to me."
"Trust me, I won't," I said with a smirk, though I was secretly relieved he'd backed down. Dewey's enthusiasm was contagious, but it also had a way of leading to chaos.
As he leaned back in the chair, still pouting, Miras asked, "So, what do you think Dr. Amar's bringing to the table? If he studied the cube before but didn't find anything, what's changed now?"
"Apparently, the cube's behavior," I said. "Dad thinks the way it 'didn't want to be found' might give Dr. Amar new data to work with."
"Or new ways to blow things up," Dewey muttered.
I shot him a glare, but Miras nodded thoughtfully. "It makes sense. If the cube's reacting differently now, it might mean it's evolving—or responding to something new."
"Exactly," I said, my tone growing more serious. "Which is why we need to be careful. We don't know what this thing is capable of."
Dewey leaned forward, his earlier pout forgotten. "What if it's trying to communicate? Like, what if all the explosions and energy readings are its way of saying something, and we just don't understand it yet?"
"That's a terrifying thought," I said, though I couldn't entirely dismiss the idea. The cube's shifting patterns and strange hum had always felt... purposeful. "But if that's the case, then it's all the more reason to let the experts handle it."
"Yeah, yeah," Dewey said, waving me off. "Experts. Got it."
Before I could respond, my dad's voice echoed down the hallway. "Cherish? Miras? Can you two come in here for a minute?"
The three of us exchanged a look, and Dewey's eyes lit up with renewed excitement. "Does this mean I get to see it?"
"No," I said firmly, already heading toward the lab. "You stay here."
Dewey groaned but didn't argue, though I had no doubt he'd find some way to sneak a peek if given half a chance. As Miras and I walked down the hall, the faint hum of the cube grew louder, sending a chill down my spine.
Whatever my dad wanted, I had a feeling it wasn't going to be good news.
As we stepped into the lab, the first thing I noticed was the tension in the air. My dad stood near the workbench, his arms crossed as he listened to Dr. Amar, who was gesturing toward a holographic display of the cube. The device floated in the center of the room, its surface pulsing faintly with a deep, rhythmic glow. It was subtle but impossible to ignore—like it was breathing.
Dr. Amar turned when he saw us enter, his expression calm but serious. He was younger than I expected, probably mid-thirties, with sharp features and an intense gaze that made me feel like he could see right through me. "Ah, you must be Cherish and Miras," he said, his voice smooth but clipped, like he didn't have time for pleasantries. "Your father's told me about you."
"Hopefully nothing too embarrassing," I said, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't land.
"That is a colossal bracelet," Dr. Amar grabbed my wrist suddenly, examining the bracelet Miras had given me for Christmas. Miras's face soured, but he didn't move. "Where did you get it?"
"It was a gift," I said, making a conscious effort to not look at Miras.
Dr. Amar's fingers lingered on the bracelet, his grip firm but not painful. Up close, his eyes caught the light in a way that felt... off. Almost too reflective, like the polished surface of a mirror. I pulled my wrist back, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping over me.
"It's beautiful," Dr. Amar straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. "That bracelet," he began, his voice now carrying a subtle hum, "is not ordinary. The alloy, the etchings—none of it matches anything made on Earth."
"You sure know your rocks," Miras said, his tone not quite yet joking.
"Otherworldly objects is my specialty. I was even part of the team that first discovered the first sign of alien life. I'm assuming that's why your father requested me here."
"One of the many reasons," my father hummed. "Who was that I heard causing a bunch of commotion a few minutes ago?"
"That would be Dewey," I said. "Someone told him about the cube and he is very interested. He even brought his own spectrometer."
"A what?"
"A spectrometer," Miras repeated. "It would mean everything to him if he could just have a peak—at the cube."
Dr. Amar's sharp features softened with faint amusement, though his posture remained rigid. "A spectrometer? For the cube? Ambitious, though entirely futile." His gaze slid back to me, lingering on the bracelet. "Still, it's nice to see enthusiasm. Curiosity is... useful."
I folded my arms, glancing at Miras, who was leaning casually against the wall. Too casually. His posture was all nonchalance, but I could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked between Dewey and the cube like he was ready to step in if anything went wrong.
"It's... beautiful," Dewey breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I ever imagined."
"It's a cube, Dewey," I said. "Don't overthink it."
"It's not just a cube. Look at it. The surface—it's alive. And the symbols, they're moving. It's communicating. I swear, it's responding to us."
I looked at the cube, its strange metallic surface shimmering faintly, the etched symbols flickering like they had a pulse. He wasn't wrong—it did feel alive. But that wasn't comforting. If anything, it made my stomach twist.
"Have we had a long enough peak," My dad asked, speaking mostly to Dewey.
Dewey slowly raised his arm, pulling out his cellphone before Miras quickly shoved his hand back down.
"Dewey," Miras said sharply, his voice low but forceful. "No pictures."
Dewey's face flushed with embarrassment—or maybe frustration—and he stammered, "I just thought... it would help with analysis. For reference."
"No," my father said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. "The cube stays undocumented for now. No photos, no scans, no external records. Do you understand?"
Dewey nodded, though he looked like he might vibrate out of his skin with suppressed curiosity. "Understood," he muttered, tucking his phone back into his pocket.
"Good," my dad said, his tone lighter but still authoritative. "Let's keep it that way."
Dr. Amar, who had been watching the exchange in silence, stepped forward then, his hands clasped behind his back. His presence filled the room in a way that made my skin crawl—not threatening exactly, but too focused, too aware.
"Curiosity is commendable," he said, his voice smooth, "but caution is paramount. This artifact is not just a scientific curiosity—it's a potential risk. The less we interfere with it, the better."
"We should let Dr. Amar got back to his work," My dad purposefully put a hand on Dewey's shoulder. "I'll trust that you three can entertain yourselves—safley."
"You want a burger, Dewey?" I asked, knowing exactly how to fix the problem.
***
"So you like...actually live here now?" Dewey asked, his mouth full of fries.
"Just temporarily," said Miras. "Until I'm done with my physical rehab so my aunt doesn't have to worry about me."
"You must have the coolest room," Dewey nearly glowed. "I bet you have your own den–your own suit—your own floor. Can I please see your floor?"
Miras I exchanged a look, waiting for the other to respond.
"You'll have to ask Cherish," Miras said finally.
Dewey scanned between us, giving off a perplexed look, "why?"
"I'm sleeping in her room."
Dewey froze mid-chew, his eyes widening in slow realization as he stared at Miras. The fry he'd been about to eat hovered in the air like a punctuation mark to his shock.
"You're what?" he asked, voice teetering between incredulity and delight, as if he wasn't sure whether to be scandalized or deeply impressed.
Miras leaned back in his chair, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "You heard me."
Dewey looked at me next, searching for confirmation. "Is he serious?"
I shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "It's not like that," I said, shooting Miras a warning glance. "We're just...sharing a space."
"But still..." Dewey's face lit up again, his mind clearly racing with implications. "That's like...every teen movie ever. You're practically roommates. How are you not freaking out about this, Cherish?"
"Because I'm not you, Dewey," I shot back, stealing one of his fries to deflect. "Besides, it's not as dramatic as you're making it sound. We barely talk once we're in there. He's got his rehab stuff, and I've got my...whatever."
"Homework and existential angst," Miras added dryly, reaching for his soda.
Dewey's eyes flicked between us like he was watching a tennis match. "I don't know if I'm more amazed by the fact that this is happening or the fact that you're both so chill about it."
But wait—if you're sharing a room, doesn't that mean you—"
"Don't," I cut him off, narrowing my eyes.
"—see each other in the morning?" Dewey finished anyway, his grin borderline maniacal. "Like, when you're all groggy and—"
"Dewey!" My cheeks burned, and Miras's quiet laugh didn't help.
"Relax, Cherish," Miras said, leaning forward with a sly grin. "It's not like I've seen anything embarrassing. Yet."
"You're not helping," I muttered, covering my face with my hands.
Dewey, however, was clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, this is golden. Can I tell people? Just a few people?"
"No!" Miras and I snapped in unison.
"Fine, fine," he said, holding up his hands defensively but clearly relishing every moment. "But seriously, Miras, you're, like, living the dream. If I had someone as cool as Cherish sharing my room—"
"I'm stopping you there," said Miras.
Dewey's energy seemed to redouble. "Okay, okay, last thing before I go home—can I please see your room? I promise I won't touch anything."
Miras raised an eyebrow at me, clearly amused. "Your call."
I sighed, already regretting this. "Fine. But don't—"
"I know, I know," Dewey interrupted, holding up his hands like he was swearing an oath. "Don't touch anything. Scout's honor."
We led him upstairs, and as soon as I opened the door, Dewey's eyes widened like a kid stepping into a toy store.
"This is so cool," he breathed, taking in the mix of my personal chaos—books, posters, —and Miras's neatly stacked physical therapy equipment and a small pile of his stuff in the corner. "It's like a perfect clash of personalities. You've got, like, vibes."
"Glad you approve," I said dryly.
Dewey wandered over to Miras's corner, inspecting his gear without touching anything, to his credit. "Man, you must've been in crazy good shape before...y'know."
Miras stiffened, and I shot Dewey a warning look. "Dewey."
"What?" Dewey said, looking genuinely confused. "I'm just saying—"
"It's fine," Miras cut in, his voice even. "And yeah, I was. Still am, technically. Just a little slower right now."
Dewey nodded, his face surprisingly earnest. "Well, you're still, like, a superhero compared to the rest of us. I mean, you're doing all this rehab stuff and sharing a room with her"—he pointed at me—"and you haven't gone insane yet. That's impressive."
Miras chuckled softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Thanks, Dewey. I think."
"Okay, tour's over," I announced, steering Dewey toward the door. "Before you dig yourself into an even bigger hole."
"Aw, come on!" he protested as I pushed him out into the hallway. "I was just getting started!"
"Maybe tomorrow," I offered. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"
"Yeah but a giant alien cube and your guy's personal life is so much more interesting than biology."
I let out a sarcastic chuckle, "can't disagree with that. You can come back tomorrow, Dewey, bring Aunt Nayley. We'll play some video games. Get home safe!"
"Text me if anything happens with the—"
I let out a sigh of relief as I closed the door, "I love him, but goddamn."
"Tell me about it," Imani muttered. "I'm pretty sure he was sent here as some kind of cosmic test."
Miras rolled his shoulders, testing his range of motion, before he began his routine. The equipment took up a good chunk of the floor, but he moved with practiced precision, methodically adjusting the resistance bands and balancing on the wobble board like it was second nature. I tried not to watch too closely. Really, I did.
But it was hard to look away.
His movements were so fluid, his focus so intense, that it was like watching a dance, every shift and stretch deliberate and controlled. The sunlight streaming through the window caught in his hair and highlighted the angles of his face, softening the sharpness of his usual smirk.
I sat on my bed with a book open in my lap—well, it was technically open, but I hadn't turned a page in the last ten minutes. My eyes kept drifting back to him, and every time he exhaled or adjusted his stance, I felt a flutter in my chest I couldn't quite explain.
Get a grip, Cherish, I told myself. He's just doing physical therapy, not solving world hunger. Still, there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself. Even in rehab mode, there was a quiet determination about him, a kind of understated strength that made you believe he could conquer anything.
And then, as if he could feel my gaze, he glanced over his shoulder at me.
"Something on your mind?" he asked, his voice teasing but not unkind.
I snapped my book shut, cheeks heating. "No. Just...reading."
His lips quirked into a small smile, and he nodded toward the book. "Right. That's why you've been stuck on the same page for the last fifteen minutes."
"I—" I started, then clamped my mouth shut. Denying it would only make me sound guilty. Instead, I tried to play it cool. "You're pretty full of yourself for someone who's using a giant rubber band as gym equipment."
Miras laughed, low and soft, the kind of laugh that settled in your stomach and made everything feel a little brighter. "Fair enough. But if you're going to watch, at least make yourself useful. Hand me the green band?"
"Fine," I muttered, hopping off the bed and grabbing the resistance band from the pile of gear. I handed it to him, careful not to let our fingers touch.
"Thanks," he said, his tone easy, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes that made me feel like he knew exactly what was going on in my head.
I sat back down, determined to focus on my book this time. But as Miras returned to his exercises, I couldn't help sneaking another glance. Miras looped the resistance band around his hands and anchored it under his foot, his muscles tensing as he slowly pulled upward. The movement was small, controlled, every inch earned, but the sheer focus in his expression made it feel like a triumph.
"Does it hurt?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He paused mid-rep and glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "What, this?"
I nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"It's not so bad," he said, resuming the motion. "The first few times were rough, but now it's more...annoying than painful. Like trying to fix something that doesn't want to stay fixed."
I frowned, fiddling with the edge of my book. "That sounds frustrating."
"It is," he admitted, a faint edge creeping into his voice. "But I can't exactly quit. Not unless I want to stay like this forever."
I watched him lower the band slowly, his movements precise, deliberate. There was something about the way he talked about it—so matter-of-fact, like he had already accepted the challenge and refused to let it win.
"You're pretty tough," I said softly, surprising even myself with the admission.
Miras looked up at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought I'd said something wrong. Then, his lips curved into a small, genuine smile—not his usual teasing smirk, but something warmer.
"Thanks," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "That means a lot."
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how close we were, even with the room's large size. The air felt heavier somehow, charged with something unspoken.
"Do you ever get tired of it?" I asked, trying to fill the silence.
"Tired of what?"
"Fighting so hard to get back to where you were."
Miras leaned back against the wall, letting the resistance band fall slack in his hands. He looked thoughtful, his gaze drifting to the window. "Sometimes," he admitted. "There are days when I wake up and think, 'What's the point?' But then I remember..."
He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
"Remember what?" I pressed gently.
"That I don't want to be stuck," he said finally, meeting my eyes. "Not just physically, but...in my head. I don't want to look back in five years and hate myself for giving up."
I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he looked away, the intensity of his words lingering in the air.
"That's...pretty inspiring," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't get too sappy on me," he teased, though the corners of his mouth twitched with another smile.
I laughed, the tension breaking just enough to feel normal again. "Fine, but don't expect me to stop stealing your fries next time we go out."
"Deal," he said, stretching his arm out and wincing slightly.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my concern bubbling up before I could stop it.
"Just a little sore," he said, rolling his shoulder. "Nothing I can't handle."
Impulsively, I got up and walked over to him. "Here," I said, kneeling beside him. "Let me see."
He looked at me, startled but not protesting, as I reached out and gently pressed my fingers against his shoulder. His skin was warm under my touch, the tension in his muscles obvious.
"You're all knotted up," I said, frowning.
"That's kind of the point," he replied, his voice softer now.
I rolled my eyes but kept working, kneading the tight spots carefully. He exhaled, his posture relaxing slightly under my hands.
"Not bad," he murmured.
"Don't get used to it," I said, though my heart was hammering in my chest.
"Too late," he said, glancing at me with a smile that made my stomach flip.
I quickly pulled my hands away, standing up before the moment could get any more dangerous. "Okay, you're good. Now get back to work."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, his tone light but his gaze lingering a little too long.
I returned to my bed, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me—or the butterflies still dancing in my stomach.
My dad had never insisted on having dinner together before, especially when he was just starting a new project.
The clinking of utensils against plates filled the dining room, an odd mix of tension and normalcy weaving its way through the meal. My dad had insisted on a "family dinner" tonight, and by "family," he apparently meant Miras too. I wasn't exactly complaining—having him here made these things a little less unbearable. But I also knew that having dinner with my dad usually meant he was trying to pry into something in my life.
"So," Dad began, his voice cutting through the quiet like a pin bursting a balloon. "Graduation's coming up soon."
I froze mid-bite, my fork hovering just inches from my mouth. "Yeah," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. "It is."
Dad's eyes sparkled with a knowing glint as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him like he was about to deliver a sermon. "And have you thought about prom yet?"
I swallowed quickly, the bite I'd just taken feeling too big. I glanced over at Miras, who was doing his best to look like he wasn't already aware of what was coming. His eyes flicked to me, then back to my dad, but he didn't speak. It felt like we were both waiting for the inevitable.
"I... uh, not really," I replied, trying to keep things casual, even though my insides were starting to knot. "It's still a couple of months away."
Dad grinned, and I immediately regretted every word. "Well, that's good, because it gives you time to think about who you might want to go with." His gaze shifted to Miras, then back to me, like he was making some silent connection only he understood.
Miras cleared his throat, catching on to the unspoken direction of the conversation. "I mean, yeah, prom's kind of far off, right?"
Dad nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly. Plenty of time. But you know, Cherish,"—he turned to me with a smile that was far too knowing—"it's important to think ahead, especially when you have someone like Miras right here, who'd make a great date."
I almost choked on my food, but I managed to swallow. "What?!" My voice was louder than I meant it to be, and both Miras and my dad stared at me as if I'd just said something absurd.
"Not just for prom, sweetie," Dad said, ignoring my obvious discomfort. "I'm talking about all those memories. You want to have someone to share that with, right?" He turned to Miras, his expression shifting to one of apparent approval. "And Miras here has always been a solid, responsible kid. He's reliable. You two would make a great pair."
I shot a glance at Miras, who, to my utter disbelief, was smiling. Smiling! Like he was in on the joke. I was starting to wonder if this was some kind of setup I wasn't aware of.
"Dad," I said, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "You know I'm not—"
"I'm just saying," he cut me off, his tone still way too chipper, "you two could have a lot of fun together."
Miras laughed nervously. "It's, uh... it's really not a big deal." But the way his eyes lingered on me made me feel like he was playing along, and it made my skin crawl.
"Well, I'm sure it'll all work out," Dad said, finally picking up his fork again, his eyes sparkling like he'd just orchestrated the perfect match. "You two are practically inseparable, anyway."
I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, my pulse quickening. This dinner was rapidly becoming my worst nightmare. I tried to focus on my food, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that my dad had just basically set us up for prom.
Miras cleared his throat again, and this time, he looked a little more serious. "Cherish," he said slowly, his voice quieter than usual, "if you don't want to, that's totally okay. I didn't—"
"It's fine," I cut him off, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "We'll... figure it out."
Miras blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. He was too polite to push it any further, but I could see the questions in his eyes. What exactly had my dad meant? Did I want to go with him? Did I not want to go with him?
I didn't know the answer either. Not yet, anyway.
And I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.
"Miras might want to go to the prom at his old school, so he can experience it with Dewey--his best friend."
"Dewey would kill me if I didn't bring you," Miras quickly interjected. "Besides, I can't exactly be his date."
"And I can?" I asked in amusement. "I'm pretty sure most places only allow one person. I don't think we can both apply to be Dewey's date."
Miras visibly cringed at the idea, "obviously we wouldn't be going as Dewey's dates. I think because of your...status the school would be thrilled to have you there."
"A celebrity attending a public school prom would be disastrous. You would have to bring Imani with you and make it a foursome."
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me at the image of me, Imani, and Miras all showing up to Dewey's prom together like some kind of mismatched quartet. The whole situation felt completely absurd.
"Or," my dad practically pleaded, clearly not picking up on how ridiculous this all sounded, "you bring Dewey to your guy's prom."
"Only if he registers as Miras's date!" I shot back, still chuckling, though my voice was tinged with amusement and a touch of disbelief. "Otherwise, I think it'll be a bit too scandalous for the teachers."
Miras, who had been silently trying to sink into his chair, gave an exaggerated sigh and ran his hands through his hair. "I really don't think Dewey would appreciate being the subject of prom rumors at a rich fancy school" He shot me a look, and his expression was a mix of playfulness and exasperation.
"And who's to say you wouldn't be causing a stir with your entrance?" My dad chimed in, grinning like he was the mastermind behind all of this. "I mean, Cherish's 'status' and all—just imagine the attention you'd get. I think it's a good idea to have you two go as a power couple!"
I nearly choked on my water, my mind racing through all the possible ways this could go wrong. "A what?!" I sputtered, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "Are you suggesting that I pretend to be some... some prom queen with Miras? I don't think the world's ready for that!"
Miras's eyes widened, his face a mix of concern and panic. "Wait, no—no one's pretending anything. We're not doing that. I don't need people thinking we're a 'power couple,' whatever that means."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, good luck with that, since my dad's apparently determined to turn us into a spectacle."
Dad ignored the sarcasm, as usual. "It's not about turning you into a spectacle," he said with a grin. "It's about making sure you don't miss out on something important. I just want you to have a great time."
I groaned internally. Of course, he wanted me to have a great time. He just didn't seem to understand that being dragged into this prom thing wasn't my idea of "fun."
But the idea of Dewey attending the same prom as Nakita Sanders was too irresistible. Especially as Miras's date.
The hallways of the lab were eerily quiet after dinner. Most of the staff had retired for the evening, and the faint hum of machinery was the only sound as I wandered back toward the containment room. I wasn't entirely sure why I came back—maybe it was the unease that had been gnawing at me since Dr. Amar's strange comments earlier. Or maybe it was the cube itself, like its strange energy had left a mark on me. Either way, I couldn't sleep, so here I was. The door to the containment room was slightly ajar. That immediately set me on edge; protocol dictated that it should always be locked. I hesitated for a moment, listening. Faint noises drifted out—a low murmur of someone talking to themselves, punctuated by soft clicks and beeps. Slowly, I pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. Dr. Amar was standing in front of the cube, his back to me. The containment field had been lowered, and the cube sat on the pedestal, unprotected. Its glow was brighter than before, the symbols on its surface flickering rapidly, almost frantically. Dr. Amar held some sort of sleek, metallic device in his hand—nothing I recognized—and was waving it over the cube in slow, deliberate motions.
"I see you now," he murmured, his voice barely audible but strangely... reverent. "So much potential. So much power."
My stomach twisted. Something about the way he spoke sent a shiver down my spine. I shifted my weight, trying to get a better look, and the slight creak of my shoe against the floor made him whirl around.
"Cherish," he said smoothly, his expression unreadable. "What a surprise."
"I could say the same to you," I replied, stepping into the room. My voice came out steadier than I expected. "What are you doing? The containment field's supposed to stay up."
He smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I have clearance, as you know. Your father entrusted me to study the cube. And the field interferes with certain... advanced methods of analysis."
"Advanced methods," I repeated, eyeing the strange device in his hand. "That thing doesn't look like any equipment we have in the lab."
"It's specialized," he said, his tone clipped. "Far beyond your usual tools."
I didn't buy it. My gut was screaming at me that something was wrong. "You're acting like Dewey earlier," I said, crossing my arms. "Obsessed. Like the cube's got its hooks in you."
Dr. Amar chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "The cube is... remarkable. Anyone with a mind for discovery would feel drawn to it. Surely you've felt it, too."
I didn't answer. I couldn't, because he wasn't wrong. The cube had drawn me in, but not in the way he was talking about. What I felt wasn't curiosity—it was dread.
His eyes flicked to my wrist, to the bracelet Miras had given me. "And then there's that," he said, his voice taking on that strange, humming quality again. "You're drawn to it, too, whether you realize it or not. That bracelet—do you know what it truly is?"
"It's a gift," I said sharply, instinctively pulling my arm closer to my body. "From someone who cares about me."
"It's more than a gift," he said, his gaze intense, almost predatory. "It's a key. A connection. It's why the cube responds to you."
My breath caught. "What are you talking about? The cube doesn't—"
"It does," he interrupted, stepping closer. "The symbols, the energy—it reacts to you. To that." He pointed to the bracelet, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you even understand what you're wearing? What it means?"
"Back off," I said, my voice firm despite the chill racing down my spine. "You're not making any sense."
Dr. Amar studied me for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "Of course," he said softly, almost to himself. "You don't know. Not yet."
He turned back to the cube, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. "Soon, though. Very soon."
I stared at him, my heart pounding. Every instinct screamed at me to grab the bracelet, to run, to tell someone—anyone—what I'd just seen. But something about the way he stood there, so calm, so certain, rooted me in place.
Dr. Amar took a slow step toward me, his movements measured and deliberate. "You think the bracelet is just an accessory? A sentimental trinket from your friend?" He chuckled softly, the sound low and chilling. "No. It's much more than that. It's... ancient. Older than your civilization, older than this world. And it's no coincidence that you're the one wearing it."
My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn't back away. "What does that even mean? Why me?"
"Because the cube chose you," he said, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Or, more accurately, it chose the bracelet—and by extension, you. That object on your wrist is a beacon, a bridge to something far beyond your understanding. It's the key to unlocking the cube's true purpose."
My mind raced, trying to process his words. The bracelet, a bridge? A key? It sounded insane, but the way the cube had pulsed earlier, how the symbols seemed to flicker faster whenever I was near... I couldn't deny that something strange was happening.
"Then why don't you just take it?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "If it's so important, why all this talk instead of action?"
Dr. Amar's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "You think I haven't tried? That bracelet is bonded to you now. Removing it by force would... complicate things." His gaze dropped to my wrist again, lingering. "But there are other ways. Cooperation would be... preferable."
"I'm not cooperating with anything," I snapped, taking a step back. "You're out of your mind."
His expression darkened, and for the first time, there was a crack in his carefully controlled demeanor. "Do you think I'm the only one interested in the cube? In you?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "There are forces at play here you can't even begin to comprehend. If you don't help me, you'll be on your own when they come. And trust me, they will come."
The room felt colder, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a physical force. I glanced at the cube, its symbols flickering wildly now, almost frantic. It felt like it was alive, like it was watching us, listening to every word.
"You're lying," I said, though the conviction in my voice wavered. "You're just trying to scare me into giving you what you want."
"Believe what you will," he said with a shrug, his calm exterior snapping back into place. "But you should ask yourself—why did Miras give you that bracelet? Do you think it was truly just a gift? Or does he know more than he's letting on?"
The mention of Miras hit me like a punch to the gut. "Leave him out of this," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "You don't know anything about him."
Dr. Amar smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Perhaps. But I know this—he didn't give you that bracelet by accident. He knew what it was, and he knew what it would mean for you."
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, the cube pulsed again—this time brighter, more violently. The symbols twisted and rearranged themselves, their glow casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. The room trembled, a low rumble reverberating through the floor.
Dr. Amar turned back to the cube, his expression shifting into something almost... awestruck. "It's waking up," he murmured. "Finally."
I didn't know what he meant by that, and I didn't care to find out. My instincts screamed at me to leave, to get as far away from the cube—and from him—as possible. But I couldn't just walk away. Not yet.
"Stay away from me," I said, my voice firm as I backed toward the door. "And stay away from the bracelet. I don't care what you think it is."
He didn't look at me, his focus entirely on the cube. "You can't run from this, Cherish," he said softly, almost like a warning. "The cube has chosen you. And soon, you'll have no choice but to answer its call."
I didn't wait to hear anything else. I turned and bolted from the room, my heart pounding as his words echoed in my head. Whatever was happening, whatever the cube wanted—I wasn't ready for it. Not yet.
I burst into my room, slamming the door behind me harder than I meant to. My chest was heaving, and my pulse felt like it was trying to break free from my veins. The room was dark except for the faint glow of my desk lamp, but I barely noticed it as I leaned back against the door, trying to steady my breathing.
"Cherish?" Miras's groggy voice startled me, and I jumped.
I turned to see him sitting up on my bed, rubbing his eyes. His hair was disheveled, and his blanket had slipped off onto the floor. He blinked at me, frowning. "What's going on? Did something happen?"
I forced a laugh, shaking my head quickly. "No. Nothing. Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."
"Fine?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice still thick with sleep. "You just slammed the door like someone was chasing you, and you look like you've seen a ghost. What happened?"
I hesitated, gripping the edge of my bracelet without realizing it. My mind raced for an explanation that wouldn't set off his alarm bells, something that would keep him from asking too many questions. He had a way of seeing through me when I lied, but I couldn't tell him the truth—not yet. Not when I didn't even understand it myself.
"I... I just couldn't sleep," I said, my voice too quick, too light. "I went for a walk to clear my head, and I thought I saw someone in the hall. It startled me, that's all."
He didn't look convinced. "Someone in the hall? Like who?"
I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "Probably just my dad wandering around again. You know how he gets when he's obsessing over something."
Miras frowned, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied me. "Your dad, huh?" He stood up, stretching lazily but with a sharpness in his movements that told me he wasn't buying it. "You're a terrible liar, Cherish."
"I'm not lying," I insisted, crossing my arms. "I just... overreacted, okay? It's been a long day."
He stepped closer, his gaze softening slightly as he looked me over. "You're shaking," he said quietly. "Whatever happened, it wasn't just you getting startled."
I glanced down at my hands and cursed inwardly when I saw he was right. My fingers trembled as if they had a mind of their own, betraying the calm façade I was trying to maintain. I quickly shoved them into my pockets. "I'm fine," I said firmly. "Really."
"Cherish..." His voice was gentle now, almost pleading. "If something happened, you can tell me."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his concern pressing down on me. A part of me wanted to tell him everything—the cube, Dr. Amar, the strange, cryptic things he said about the bracelet. But the other part, the one fueled by fear and confusion, held me back. What if Miras did know more about the bracelet, like Dr. Amar had implied? What if he'd been keeping secrets from me, too?
"I appreciate it," I said, forcing a small smile. "But there's nothing to tell. I just freaked myself out, and now you're freaking out because I freaked out. Let's both just... stop freaking out, okay?"
Miras stared at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. He looked like he wanted to argue, to push for more, but eventually he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. If you say so."
"Thank you," I said, relieved.
"But," he added, pointing a finger at me, "if something did happen, I'm going to find out eventually. You're terrible at hiding things."
I forced a laugh, even as guilt twisted in my chest. "Noted."
He gave me one last, lingering look before turning back to the couch and flopping onto it with a dramatic sigh. "Try not to slam the door again next time, okay? Some of us like sleeping."
"Will do," I said, my voice light but strained.
As he settled back under the blanket, I slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. My bracelet felt heavier than ever against my wrist, and my mind churned with everything Dr. Amar had said.
The next morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table, poking at a piece of toast and trying to block out the lingering weight of last night. Miras sat across from me, scrolling on his phone, his usual smirk absent. He hadn't brought up my late-night entrance again, but the air between us was tense—like he was waiting for me to crack.
The knock at the door broke the silence. It was brisk and deliberate, the kind that made you sit up a little straighter.
A sharp knock at the front door broke through the quiet. It was quick and deliberate, each rap a little louder than the last.
Miras glanced up, frowning. "That's gotta be Aunt Nayley," he muttered, pushing his chair back.
"Aunt Nayley?" I asked, perking up.
"She said she was going to try and come by and see me today. She hasn't seen me since well...the hospital."
Regardless of the fact that I was still in my pajamas and not at all presentable, I rushed towards the door, my socks causing me to slide as I rounded the corner to the stairs.
"That is so not fair!" Miras called out from behind me, giving a pathetic attempt at a jog.
Ignoring him, I flung open the door, causing it to bounce off the door stopper.
"Aunt Nayley!" I squealed, wrapping her in my arms before she even had the chance to realise I was there. It took her only a second to elope with me the same enthusiasm. "Cherish!" Nayley exclaimed, squeezing me so tightly I thought I might pop. She smelled like lavender and coffee, her coat slightly cold from the winter air. "Oh I've missed you so much! How are you my dear?"
"I'm good!" I said, though my voice cracked a little with the weight of everything that wasn't good. "I didn't know you were coming today!"
"I couldn't stay away," she said, pulling back to cup my face in her warm hands. "I needed to check on my favorite nephew—and, of course, my future niece in-law." She winked at me, her sharp eyes twinkling.
Miras finally reached the door, his expression half amused, half resigned. "Niece in-law? I thought you came to check on me."
"Oh, hush, Miras. I can multitask," Nayley quipped, stepping forward to hug him. "Besides, I have to make sure Cherish is doing okay."
Miras shot me a playful glare. "I see how it is. I'm chopped liver now."
"Don't be so dramatic," Nayley said, ruffling his hair as if he were still twelve. "Are you doing your physical therapy? Are your stitches still closed? You look a little thin, have you been eating? Cherish honey has he been eating?"
"I eat," he protested, smoothing his hair.
"Barely," I muttered under my breath, earning a small shove from Miras.
"The pain meds I'm on sometimes restrict my appetite," Miras placed his hands on his hips. "It's a perfectly normal side effect."
"You're going to lose all your muscles," aunt Nayley, picked at his arm. "Your very delicate–stitched back together muscles. Very expensive muscles!"
Miras groaned, pulling his arm away from Nayley's playful but relentless poking. "I'm not a science project, Nayley."
"Oh, but you are," she countered with a smirk, stepping back to appraise him like she was an art critic examining a half-finished painting. "Do you know how much effort and care it takes to put a stubborn man back together? I can't have you undoing all of that hard work because you're too lazy to eat properly."
"I'm not lazy," Miras said defensively, crossing his arms. "I just don't have the appetite of a competitive eater like some people." He shot me a pointed look.
"Don't drag me into this," I said, raising my hands innocently. "Speaking of food Nayley can I get you something to eat–coffee? Our chef makes amazing food here."
"Oh believe me hun, I remember. On Christmas I died and went to food heaven. If Miras wont eat your food I certainly will."
"I'm eating plenty of her food!"
I couldn't help but smile as Nayley and Miras continued their playful back-and-forth. It was like watching a comedy duo—one that had perfected their act over years of banter. I stayed out of it, knowing better than to insert myself into their dynamic. Instead, I trailed behind as Miras begrudgingly led us toward the kitchen.
"So how is sleeping in Cherish's room?" Aunt Nayley didn't attempt to hide her tone.
Miras stopped mid-step, his back going rigid. I felt my cheeks warm immediately, but Nayley looked utterly unfazed, wearing that signature mischievous grin.
"Aunt Nayley," I said quickly, trying to steer this conversation off its dangerous course. "He's not sleeping in my room. He's recovering. There's a difference."
"Sure, honey," Nayley replied, her tone dripping with mock innocence. "I'm just saying it's convenient, isn't it? You're already there if he needs something. Very... considerate."
Miras turned around slowly, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. "She put me in there because my stitches make climbing stairs a nightmare and the elevator goes up to her room. That's it."
What a pathetic lie.
"Of course," Nayley said, clearly enjoying every second of this. "And here I was thinking you'd finally stopped being so stubborn and admitted you liked her company."
Miras ran a hand down his face with a groan. "Why are you like this?"
"I'm just looking out for you," she said sweetly, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her ulterior motives. "And besides, I'm sure Cherish doesn't mind, do you, sweetheart?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat. I glanced at Miras, who was now rubbing the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me.
"No," I said finally, my voice a little too high-pitched. "I don't mind. It's temporary anyway."
"Temporary," Nayley repeated with an exaggerated nod, her grin widening. "Of course it is."
"Can we please talk about something else?" Miras said, his tone edging toward desperation. "Like food? Food sounds good right now."
"Fine, fine," Nayley relented, though her smirk lingered. "But you're no fun when you're this grumpy. You should eat more. Maybe then you'd have the energy to keep up with my teasing."
Miras muttered something under his breath that I didn't quite catch, but the tips of his ears had gone red—a rare sign that Nayley had gotten under his skin. I couldn't help but stifle a small laugh.
"So where's your dad, hon," aunt Nayley continued even with her breakfast. "Dewey said he was working on a new science project. A cube?" She leaned back, her expression still thoughtful. "A cube," she murmured, almost to herself. "I wonder what that's about."
"He's probably tinkering away," I forced out a laugh. "It's just an object he found. He's still trying to determine if it's from earth or not. I can go grab him for you if you like."
"Oh no that's ok, I wouldn't want to disturb the master at work."
I tried not to show that relief that washed over me. The thought of seeing Dr. Amar after last night was nauseating. The things he said about my bracelet replayed over and over again in my head.
"It's just a project," I said a little too quickly, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Nothing major."
Miras, who had been absentmindedly poking at his food, glanced up at me. His eyes softened when he saw the tension in my shoulders, the way I kept my gaze fixed to my plate like it was the only thing that could ground me. He didn't say anything, but his hand moved across the table, resting gently on mine. It was the kind of quiet reassurance that didn't need words.
"Oooh something smells good in here," Imani said as he walked in the room before cutting himself off. "Oh, Nayley, I didn't know you were here–hello."
The blush on Imani's and aunt Nayley's face was nearly identical. Miras smirked, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, clearly aware of the subtle but undeniable tension in the room.
"Breakfast Imani?" I spoke first, daring to add to the tension. "Chef made blackberry infused french toast."
"I've never heard of such a thing," Imani's awkwardness came out in his laugh.
"At least sit and have coffee," Miras seemed to have caught onto what I was doing, gesturing Imani over.
"I suppose I can, for a few minutes. I'm supposed to be running errands for your dad."
Aunt Nayley shifted in her seat, desperately trying to escape the awkwardness. "So, have you heard anything from your doctor? When can you go back to school?"
"Really soon," Miras said proudly. "I'm going to try going tomorrow–maybe for a half day. But definitely in the next couple of days."
Aunt Nayley grinned, her eyes lighting up with approval. "Well, that's fantastic news! You've come a long way, Miras. I'm proud of you."
He shrugged, looking pleased but trying to play it cool. "Just doing what I've gotta do."
I smiled at him, but inside, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. I wasn't so sure about going back to school. Unlike Miras, I didn't feel ready to dive back into the chaos of everything. The rumors, the gossip, seeing Nakita and the boys who attacked Miras. Miras and I being a couple but not a couple. With everything still so uncertain, it felt overwhelming. And If Miras was going back to school, that ment I would have to.
Imani clapped Miras on the back, "good for you man! Let me know what time you guys want to leave tomorrow and I'll have the limo ready."