The party was long over. What remained was silence—thick and undisturbed, like a veil drawn across the house.
Bottles lay tipped over, half-filled glasses abandoned, glitter and confetti scattered like forgotten memories of laughter.
Everyone had disappeared into their rooms, into dreams, or drunken stupor.
Heaven, Tianna, and Lily had curled up in the girls' room without a word.
They had no questions, no accusations.
They simply slipped into sleep, their minds quiet, unaware that another story was still unfolding in the dim hours of the night.
Down the hall, a shadow moved.
Joan's steps were light, uncertain, like a woman wading through fog.
Every movement felt surreal, like she was watching herself from outside her body.
Her pulse raced, her breath shallow.
The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, each step echoing in her ears like a drumbeat of doubt.
She reached the boys' room door and stopped.
Her hand hovered above the doorknob.