A Call Away

Just as Evelyn reached the top step of her apartment building, the sudden sound of the van's window sliding open made her pause.

"Hey, Evelyn!" Riley's voice rang out, carrying through the air before the hum of the engine could drown it out.

Evelyn turned, eyes widening slightly as she saw Riley leaning halfway out of the van's window, her expression firm yet filled with concern.

"I'm just a call away, okay?" Riley shouted. "Whenever you're ready to talk about it!"

For a second, Evelyn just stood there, the words settling in. Something warm flickered in her chest—gratitude, maybe—but it was quickly swallowed by the storm of emotions still tangled inside her.

Still, she couldn't let Riley see that. Not now.

A reassuring smile brightened her face as she nodded, as if to ease her friend's worries. "I know," she called back, her voice carrying a lightness she didn't quite feel.

Riley didn't look entirely convinced, but before she could say anything else, the van's engine rumbled as it began to pull away from the curb. Evelyn watched as it disappeared down the street, her smile fading the moment it was gone.

She turned back toward her building, exhaling slowly before pushing open the glass doors.

Shutting the door behind her with a soft click, Evelyn stepped into the cool, quiet air of the apartment. The familiar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wrapped around her.

The living room was bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. At the sleek glass dining table, her mother sat in quiet focus, her iPad propped up beside her open laptop. Several documents were spread out before her, some with handwritten notes scrawled across the margins.

Evelyn barely had time to drop her bag onto the nearest chair before her mother, without looking up, spoke.

"You're back earlier than I expected." Her tone was neutral, with the faint clack of her keyboard filling the brief silence. She finally glanced up, her sharp, perceptive eyes scanning Evelyn's face. "How was the camp night?"

Evelyn hesitated. Normally, she would have given a quick rundown of events— maybe thrown in a sarcastic remark about the lack of proper bathrooms or how the campfire stories were more cheesy than scary. But today, her mind was far from normal.

Instead, before she could stop herself, the question slipped from her lips.

"Who am I?"

The words cut through the room like a blade.

Her mother's hands froze over the keyboard. The faint tapping sounds ceased, and an eerie silence stretched between them. Slowly, her mother's head lifted, her gaze locking onto Evelyn's with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

For the first time, Evelyn saw something unsual behind her mother's gaze— something that looked awfully a lot like hesitation.

"What do you mean," her mother said carefully, her voice devoid of its usual brisk efficiency. "Evelyn?"

Evelyn took a slow step forward, her heart thudding in her chest. She didn't know exactly the answer she was looking for, but after last night— after Kael, and after the impossible reality she had been forced to face— she needed something. Anything. Be it an explaination or excuse.

"I mean exactly what I said, mum." Evelyn replied, her voice quieter but no less firm. "Who am I? Really?"

Her mother's lips parted slightly, as if to say something. But for once, no immediate response came. No quick deflection, no dismissive remark. Just a long, piercing look, as if she was trying to decide how much to say— or whether not to say anything at all.

Evelyn's pulse pounded in her ears.

She was finally about to get answers.

Or at least, she hoped she was.

She took another step forward, her pulse hammering beneath her skin faster than initially. Her mother had not answered yet, and that silence— her hesitation —only made something sharp twist inside her. Something more of impatience.

As if not wanting to give her mother time to craft some careful, calculated response. The question just slipped her lips.

"And what exactly happened to my father?" she pressed, her voice unwavering.

The moment the words left her lips, she saw it. The brief flicker in her mother's eyes. The way her fingers twitched against the edge of the table, barely noticeable, but Evelyn caught it.

But then, just as quickly, her mother straightened, smoothing her expression into something practiced— calm, unreadable. And in that composed voice she always used when shutting down a conversation, she said, " I've told you everything, Evelyn. We lost your father in a car accident."

The lie slid too easily from her lips. Too perfectly rehearsed.

Evelyn felt something snap.

It wasn't just frustration. It was deeper than that— something almost primal clawing at her insides, a fire igniting in her veins.

For years, she had swallowed that story. Let herself accept it, even when the pieces never quite fit. But now, after everything— after last night, after Kael, after realizing there was more to her existence than what she had been told— she couldn't let it go.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. Her heart pounded, heat rising beneath her skin.

"Give me the truth," she demanded, her voice sharper, heavier. "The plain truth."

Her mother's expression didn't change, but the tension in her shoulders was undeniable now. A crack in her usual control.

Evelyn knew, in that moment, that she wasn't imagining things.

There was something she wasn't being told.

And she wasn't going to stop until she got the answers she deserved.

Her mother exhaled sharply, setting down her stylus with more force than necessary. She folded her arms, her gaze locking onto Evelyn.

"Why are you being so unreasonable?" she asked, her tone edging toward irritation. "We've talked about this before, Evelyn. I don't understand why you're bringing it up again."

But she didn't flinch. She stood her ground, refusing to be brushed aside like a child asking foolish questions.

"You're not answering me," she said coldly. "You're just avoiding it."

Her mother scoffed, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. "There's nothing to avoid," she said, but there was a strain in her voice now. Evelyn could tell.

Then, as if realizing this conversation was going nowhere, she sighed and straightened, her expression shifting. Calm, collective but sharp. The same way she looked when she was done entertaining a discussion.

"Did something happen at camp?" She asked, her voice clipped.

Evelyn stiffened, knowing where this was heading.

It was a deliberate shift— redirecting the focus back onto her, away from the actual question. It was a classic move, being so obvious now that it made Evelyn's blood boil.

"I asked you a question first," she said, her voice dangerously low.

Instinctively, her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, frustration evident on her face. "And I don't see why I need to explain myself again," she shot back, her own anger starting to rise.

Evelyn let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Right. Because I'm just supposed to accept whatever version of the truth you decide to give me, no questions asked?"

Her mother's fingers drummed against the table, as if reigning herself in. "That's not what I said—"

"Then tell me the truth," Evelyn cut in, stepping closer. "Not the story you've rehearsed for years. The real truth, Mum." Her voice a bit firmer than initially.

"You dare not raise your voice at me, young lady."

Her mother's voice sliced through the air— low, controlled, but laced with an unmistakable edge of warning. It wasn't just anger; it was authority, sharp and absolute, the kind that left no room for defiance. The kind Evelyn had spent her entire life obeying.

Her mother exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple before straightening in her chair. "We are done talking," she said, her voice filled with some sense of finality. "You should head to your room."

Evelyn's breath caught.

A lump formed in her throat, hot and suffocating. Just like that, her mother had shut her out. As if her questions, her need for the truth, meant nothing. As if she was being dramatic, unreasonable, childish.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

"Mum…" Her voice came out softer than she intended, almost fragile, but her mother didn't waver. She had already turned back to her iPad, the conversation dismissed.

Evelyn stood there for a moment, her heart hammering, something deep inside her twisting painfully.

She could have walked away. Let it go like she always did. But not this time.

If her mother refused to give her answers, then Evelyn would force her to acknowledge what she already knew.

"Then how do you explain this?"

She met her gaze head-on. But before her mother could react, she let go. A pulse of raw energy rippled through her, electric and untamed. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears as she allowed the shift— not a full transformation, not even close, but the one thing she could control— the only thing.

Her eyes burned as the change took hold, her irises flaring into that unnatural, piercing blue. The color, vibrant and unmistakable, glowed against the warm afternoon light streaming through the windows.

A sharp inhale came from across the table.

Evelyn knew what her mother was seeing. The new side of her. She held it, just long enough for her mother to see it.

And in that split second, she saw it too— the flicker of something in her mother's gaze. Recognition. Shock. Maybe even fear.

It was gone in an instant. Masked. Buried beneath that same cold, unreadable expression.

But Evelyn had seen it.

Her mother knew.

Slowly, she forced the shift back, her breath steadying as her eyes faded to normal. But the silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

Evelyn swallowed hard. "Well?" she whispered. "Are you still going to pretend you don't know?"