I stormed out of the library, leaving Yike to his cryptic theories. Whatever was going on with the alignment, I wasn't sure I could trust him—or anyone, for that matter—to figure it out.
As I pedaled down the deserted streets, I couldn't shake the guilt gnawing at me. Jia's effort felt wasted, and I hadn't even stopped to thank her properly.
When I reached the driveway, Jia was sitting on the porch steps, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of worry and annoyance.
"Nice of you to show up," she said, standing as I approached.
"I had to check something," I replied, parking the bike and avoiding her gaze.
"And I had to pick you up so you wouldn't overdo it," she snapped. "Do you even care that I went out of my way for you?"
I sighed, "I didn't ask you to."
Her eyes narrowed, and the hurt in her voice was unmistakable.
"No, but I thought you'd appreciate it. I guess I was wrong."
The tension between us hung heavy, and for a moment, I considered apologizing.
But my mind was still spinning with Yike's warnings, and I couldn't find the words to make things right. Instead, Jia turned and went inside, slamming the door behind her.
The note in my pocket felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric.
"The eclipse marks the beginning, not the end. Be ready."
Who was leaving these messages? And what did they mean?
I stayed outside for a while, hoping the cool night air would clear my head. But all it did was leave me restless, my thoughts circling back to Yike's cryptic explanation.
I finally forced myself to go inside, where Jia's presence was almost palpable.
The lights in the living room were dimmed, and she was stretched across the couch, her headphones on, scrolling through her laptop in her lap. She didn't look up when I entered.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, breaking the silence.
Her eyes flicked to mine briefly before returning to her screen.
"Sure, I get to hear that," she said, her tone icy.
I sighed, sitting on the armrest of the couch. "I mean it, Jia. I didn't mean to take your effort for granted. Things have just been… weird."
She pulled her headphones off and looked at me, finally giving me her full attention. "Weird how?"
I hesitated, trying to find the right words. How could I explain everything without sounding like I'd lost my grip on reality? Yike's theories, the cryptic notes, and the looming eclipse all felt surreal, like pieces of a puzzle I wasn't ready to share.
"It's hard to explain," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But everything feels… off. Like something bigger is happening, and I don't understand it."
Jia raised an eyebrow, skepticism flickering across her face. "Off how? Are you talking about the alignment again?"
"Sort of," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "It's not just that. There's something about this whole eclipse thing that's been bothering me. And then there are these notes—"
"Notes?" Jia interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "What notes?"
I froze. I hadn't meant to bring that up. The weight of the paper in my pocket seemed to grow heavier by the second.
"Just… something I found," I said vaguely, hoping she wouldn't press further.
Her expression darkened. "Taryn, if something is going on, you need to tell me. You can't just keep everything bottled up and expect me to read your mind."
I wanted to tell her, to lay it all out and hope she'd understand. But the words wouldn't come.
Jia sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Taryn, you don't have to figure this out alone. You have a sister like me for a reason."
Her words hit me harder than I expected, a wave of relief washing over me. For a short time all day, I felt like I wasn't carrying this weight entirely on my own.
"Thanks, Jia," I said, my voice barely audible.
She reached over and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze.
The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet moment between Jia and me. Grandma and Grandpa stepped into the house, their cheerful voices carrying through the room as they brought with them the crisp chill of the evening air.
"There you are!" Grandma exclaimed; her hands clasped together as her eyes landed on us. "Oh, the smell of dinner still lingers! Did you save us a bowl?"
"More like leftovers," Grandpa added with a teasing grin, shaking the dust off his coat before hanging it near the door.
"Plenty left," I called out, standing to greet them. "We couldn't finish all the food, anyway."
"Oh, we've got more now," Devon announced, stepping in behind them, his arms loaded with grocery bags. "Grandma sent me out to pick up snacks and dessert. You're welcome."
Jia shook her head with a laugh, watching as Devon plopped the bags onto the kitchen counter. He started unloading them with a mix of enthusiasm and complaints about how heavy they were—even though most of them seemed to be bags of chips and bottles of soda.
Grandpa chuckled, heading over to inspect Devon's haul. "Looks like you raided half the snack aisle," he said, holding up a jar of caramel popcorn.
"What can I say?" Devon replied with a shrug. "I'm thorough."
As Grandma busied herself in the kitchen, adding a pot of tea to the leftover hot pot spread, Grandpa joined Jia and me in the living room.
"Feels good to be back here," he remarked, settling into his favorite armchair. "This place has always had a way of bringing people together."
Jia nodded, her expression softening. "I agree. I mean, it's a little cramped compared to home, but it's kind of nice, you know?"
I couldn't help but notice how the energy in the room shifted with their arrival—lighter, warmer, even comforting. Devon was now back in the living room, offering bowls of snacks like some kind of snack bar attendant. I took a bowl of popcorn from him, shaking my head as he handed Jia the jar of almonds.
"Don't get too comfortable," he teased, looking at her laptop screen. "You're supposed to be helping me strategize for my game later."
Jia shot him a playful glare. "I'll help you when I'm ready, Devon."
Grandma appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. "How about dessert first? I brought out some mangoes from the fridge."
"Perfect," Grandpa said, standing to follow her back to the table. "Let's make it a proper celebration."
The rest of us trailed behind, settling around the dining table once more.