Chapter 164 Chapter 164

Chapter 164 Chapter 164
Mia woke to light real light, bright and clean and pouring through the curtains in a way the house hadn’t seen in days. For a second she just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, letting the change settle over her. There was no heavy gray, drum of rain on the roof and no distant thunder. Just morning sun and the soft sound of a bird somewhere outside. She sat up carefully, reached for the boot, and strapped it on with practiced movements. Sophia was still asleep on the other side of the bed, one arm thrown over her eyes. Mia didn’t wake her. She stood, crossed to the window, and pulled the curtain aside.

The neighborhood looked washed clean. Puddles still sat in the low spots of the street, but the sky was clear and high and blue. Across the narrow stretch of yards the older man who lived two doors down was already outside, moving slowly along his fence line with a mug in one hand, checking for storm damage the way he always did after bad weather. Mia pushed the window open a few inches and leaned out.
“Morning, Mr. Ellison.”
The man looked up, squinted, then lifted his mug in a small salute. “Morning, Mia.
“I thought you’d left already.”
“The storm kept us, the roads should be clear today.”
“Tell your dad the creek didn’t rise as high as they said it would. His side of the fence looks fine from here.”
“I’ll tell him. Have a good one.”
“You too, travel safe.”
She closed the window again, still smiling, and turned back toward the room. Sophia had pushed herself up on one elbow, hair a mess, eyes half-open.
“You’re cheerful,” Sophia said, voice rough with sleep. “It’s suspicious.”
“The sun is out and the roads are probably open. We’re going home.” Mia moved to her open suitcase on the chair and started folding the few things she had left out. “Get up. We’re packing.”
Sophia groaned but swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You’re actually happy. Like, properly happy. I haven’t seen that version of you in days.”
“I don't know what to say.” Mia held up a shirt, considered it, and packed it. “Kai is awake enough to eat and rest. The storm is over and my leg still hurts but it’s manageable. And I get to leave with soup and a clear sky. That’s enough for one morning.”
Sophia stood and stretched, then started gathering her own things from the top of the dresser. “Fair I’ll take it.”

They packed in an easy rhythm. Sophia folded while Mia sorted. Conversation stayed light whether the leftover cinnamon bread would survive the drive, whether Mark would try to give them a full safety lecture before they left, whether Victoria had already sent three messages about timing and security. Sophia found Mia’s charger under the bed and tossed it into the suitcase. Mia handed her a pair of socks that had ended up on the wrong side of the room. The ordinary work of leaving felt good after so many days of being forced to stay. When the bags were mostly closed Mia sat on the edge of the bed to catch her breath and adjust the boot. Sophia zipped her own duffel and looked over.
“Are you ready for the mansion again? The cameras, the schedule, the whole machine?”
Mia thought about it. “I’m ready to see him. The rest of it I can handle as it comes.”
“Good answer.” Sophia slung the duffel over her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs before your mom starts thinking we overslept and cancels the soup.”

Mia stood, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and followed her into the hallway. The smell reached them halfway down the stairs rich, familiar, the same chicken soup from the day before but fresher, still simmering. Laura was at the stove in her robe, hair pulled back, stirring the pot with the focused attention she only gave to food meant for people she loved. She looked up when she heard them and smiled.
“The roads are clear according to the county update I already checked. You’re free to leave after breakfast.” She tapped the spoon against the side of the pot. “The soup's almost done. I’m packing it in the good containers so it stays warm. Don’t open it in the car unless you want the whole vehicle to smell like my kitchen.”
Mia crossed the kitchen and wrapped one arm around her mother’s shoulders in a brief, firm hug. “Thank you for all of it.”
Laura patted her back. “Eat something before you go, both of you. I’m not sending you out on coffee alone.”

Mark appeared in the doorway a moment later, already dressed, car keys in one hand and a folded paper map in the other even though they all had phones. He took in the suitcases, the sunlight, and his daughter standing on one good leg with the boot braced against the floor, and something in his expression shifted. He set the keys down and cleared his throat.
“So, today’s the day.”
“Today’s the day,” Mia agreed.

Mark nodded, then looked at the floor for a second longer than necessary. When he looked up again his eyes were a little too bright.
“I’m glad you came,” he said. “Even with the storm and the leg and everything else. It was good having you both here. The house feels different when you’re in it.”
Mia’s throat tightened. “Dad…”
“I’m not getting soft,” he said quickly, even though he clearly was. “I’m just saying. You’re always welcome, both of you,there is no notice required. And if that boy of yours ever needs a place that’s quieter than whatever circus he’s living in, the porch light works and the coffee’s decent.”

Sophia smiled at the floor. Laura kept stirring the soup with unusual concentration. Mia crossed the space between them and hugged her father properly. He held on a second longer than usual, one hand firm between her shoulder blades, then let go and stepped back like he needed the distance to keep his face under control.
“Alright,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Breakfast and then we load the car. Then you go and you text when you get there or I’ll assume the worst and drive up myself.”
“I’ll text,” Mia promised.
Laura ladled the soup into two thick containers, sealed them, and set them in a small insulated bag. Sophia carried plates to the table. Mark poured coffee with the focused care of a man who needed something to do with his hands. The kitchen filled with the ordinary sounds of a family sending people off chairs scraping, utensils clinking, Laura reminding them about the leftover bread in the foil on the counter.
Mia sat with her leg stretched out, the boot resting on the lower rung of the chair, and ate the breakfast her mother put in front of her. The sun kept pouring through the windows. The storm was finished and the roads were open, and the next thing she had to do was simply go home.