By the time sunlight spilled into the house, Selene had already rehearsed her best "nothing's wrong" face in the mirror. Not too calm-people start probing when you seem too chill. But she couldn't look rattled either. That just wasn't her style. Plus, Renata Marchetti-her mother-noticed everything, especially when Selene's mood felt off. So she aimed for somewhere in the middle, just enough to pass for a girl about to marry the man who scared the hell out of half the underworld.

She saw how ridiculous the whole thing was. Five years spent learning how to control men twice her age, and here she was, trying to fool her mother into thinking she was still just a nervous girl.

She picked a faded blue dress, pinned back her hair with Lucia's favorite braid, and headed downstairs. Each step felt... strange. This wasn't really her home anymore. Ever since she married into the family, coming back meant security checks and remembering what you said out loud.

The smell hit her before she even reached the kitchen-coffee and toast. For a second, it stopped her right there in the hallway. That old, familiar ache. She pressed a hand to the wall, got herself together, and walked in.

Renata was at the head of the table, glasses low, sorting through letters. Lucia-sixteen, all elbows and wild energy-was annihilating a croissant one shred at a time.

"There she is," Renata said, still reading. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through your own wedding eve."

"I wouldn't dare," Selene shot back, and her voice actually sounded normal. She sat down. The chair's familiar shape almost broke her composure.

Lucia gawked at her, croissant in midair. "You look weird."

"Lucia," Renata sighed, with that universal mom-exasperation from a thousand corrections.

"No, I mean it." Lucia squinted, the patented little-sister glare. "You look like you saw a ghost."

She wasn't entirely off the mark.

Selene busied her hands with the coffee pot, choosing her next words. "Didn't sleep, that's all. It's not every day you sign away your life."

She tugged for a joke, tried to laugh off Lucia's comment, but it landed heavier than expected. Now Renata was really looking at her.

Her mother's stare almost made her flinch. Selene made herself meet it, stayed steady, pulled up that version of herself her mother needed-a little shaky, not shattered, hiding five years and a death behind her eyes.

"You don't have to pretend," Renata said quietly, setting her glasses aside. "I know this isn't the match either of us wanted."

If only you knew.

"It's not really about that," Selene said, keeping her voice even. "It's about the family. I understand."

"You always did." Something sad flickered over Renata's face, then she masked it. "Damian Voss. Do you know anything about him, I mean, besides the stories?"

I know what his voice does when he's angry but won't show it. I know he practically inhales his coffee. I know how long he can watch me break and not blink.

"Just what everyone says," Selene said. "Dangerous. Unforgiving."

"That doesn't scare you?"

It should have. The Selene from years ago-nineteen and soft-would've been terrified. But she'd already survived him-and loved him, in a way that didn't matter anymore. Now, seeing him again didn't scare her at all.

"I'm at peace with it," she said. Almost true.

Renata held her gaze a little too long, and Selene felt exposed, like her mother was reading the truth anyway. She took a casual sip of coffee, and eventually Renata glanced away, pretending to care about mail again.

Lucia wasn't distracted so easily.

"You're being weird," Lucia said, voice a notch lower, leaning in. "You keep looking around like you're saying goodbye."

That stung. Selene hadn't even realized she was doing it-studying the chandelier, the fading stain on the ceiling, the chipped sugar bowl. All those things from a different future.

She reached over, gave Lucia's braid a gentle tug, like old times when storms kept her sister awake. "I'm not disappearing. I'm moving three blocks away. You'll get sick of seeing me."

Lucia smirked, some of her worry fading. "Right. Just remember your sister still needs help with chemistry, okay?"

"Forget you? Never." Selene's words came out weightier than she planned, and Lucia heard it-maybe not the whole truth, but enough to glimpse the edge of something big.

She forced a grin, softened her tone, before Lucia could really start digging. "Eat your croissant before it turns into dust."

Lucia groaned, but listened, and the mood lightened a hair. Selene let herself breathe. She listened to her mother shuffling mail, to her sister rambling about homework, soaking in this quiet, predictable morning she never thought she'd have again. The first time around, Renata pulled away, worn down by watching her daughter disappear. Lucia had watched Selene die in a ballroom, and couldn't do a thing.

Not this time. This time, Selene would protect them both. From the world. From her own ghosts. From everything.

"You've gone quiet," Renata said, breaking the silence.

"Just thinking." Selene bit into her toast, made herself look relaxed. "About the wedding. What happens after."

"It's a lot," Renata said, finally loosening up a little. "But, for what it's worth, I know you'll manage. You always have. You're sharper than people see. Sharper than I was at your age."

That cut deep, in a place Selene thought had gone numb. The first time, her mother never got to say things like this. Life got in the way. Death did too.

"Thank you," she whispered, and really meant it.

Across the table, Lucia studied them both, certain she was missing something important. "Are we gonna talk about the dress, or is breakfast just feelings now?"

Despite herself, Selene laughed-a real laugh, pulled out by Lucia's impatience. "The dress is fine, Lucia. Same as always."

Lucia stared at her, stubborn. "Something's different, though. I don't know what. But I know it."

Selene met her sister's gaze, weighing out how much of the truth to share. Just a little. "Whatever's changed, it's for the better. Someday you'll understand. Trust me."

Lucia eyed her like she wanted to argue, but she let it go, grabbing the jam and steering everything back to safer topics-reception details, homework, regular family noise.

Selene ate, quiet and grateful, blending into the rhythm as a daughter, a sister. Not the woman shaped by her own death.

Tomorrow, she'd sign the contract. Tomorrow, everything would shift.

But for now, she let herself stay. Just a little longer, tucked inside the safety of this ordinary morning, loved by people who still didn't know what she'd survive next.