Chapter Three - Morning Stillness

The first thing Harriet felt was warmth.

It was everywhere—the sheets, the air, the skin pressed against hers. A comforting weight nestled behind her, an arm slung lazily over her stomach, anchoring her in place like she belonged there. For a moment, she didn't move. She just lay still, eyes fluttering open to soft, golden light bleeding in through the edge of her curtains.

Her head pulsed faintly with a hangover, but it was muffled—like the world had dipped itself in cotton. The party from last night played back in fragments: the music, the laughter, the rush of spinning lights in the garden, Scott's hand finding hers, his voice quiet and sincere when he asked if she was sure. Her answer had been simple: yes.

A real, wholehearted yes.

She turned slowly in the bed, careful not to wake him. Scott was still fast asleep, his face turned toward her pillow, lips slightly parted. His hair was a tangle of soft waves across his forehead, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. One hand lay open beside hers on the mattress, fingers close enough to brush. There was a faint, sun-kissed flush on his cheekbones, and a light stubble had started to grow along his jaw.

She studied him, her stomach blooming with something warm and steady. Not the giddy flutter she was used to with boys. This was deeper. Safer. Real.

Her eyes dropped to the sheet tucked low around his waist. The bare lines of his torso were still faintly illuminated by the morning light—lean and golden, with freckles scattered like constellations across his shoulders.

He was still here.

Harriet exhaled softly. She hadn't known what she'd feel waking up. Panic? Shame? Regret?

But none of it had come. All she felt was peace. A strange, settled sense of rightness.

Quietly, she slid out of bed, careful not to wake him, and tugged his oversized sweatshirt from the floor over her head. It hung down to her thighs, the sleeves brushing her fingertips. It smelled like him—like bonfire smoke, citrus aftershave, and something woodsy and warm. She padded into the bathroom, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

Her reflection in the mirror made her pause.

Her curls were wild from sleep and tangled kisses. There was mascara smudged beneath her eyes and a faint mark—his lips, his mouth—on her collarbone. She reached up and touched it gently. A blush bloomed over her cheeks. She didn't feel used. She didn't feel like she'd given anything away.

She felt... grown. Changed. In a way that didn't scare her.

When she came back into the room, Scott had stirred. One eye was half-open, his hand reaching for the empty space she'd left. When he found her again, a sleepy grin pulled at his lips.

"Hey, you." he murmured, voice husky with sleep. "You're up early."

Harriet smiled, walking back to the bed and sitting beside him. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"I'd rather wake up to you than sleep through it." he said, eyes fluttering fully open now.

She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. "That was smooth."

"I mean it." he said, reaching out to take her hand. His thumb brushed the back of her knuckles. "You okay?"

That question settled in her chest like a stone dropping into calm water. She nodded slowly.

"Of course." she said. "I'm really okay."

He leaned up and kissed her—slow and sweet, his hand cupping her cheek like she might disappear if he didn't hold her gently. When they pulled apart, she lingered, her forehead resting against his.

"I've gotta get ready soon. My placement at the hospital starts at ten. This has to count. For my college application, for me. Plus, my parents pulled some strings to get me this placement. Can't blow it off. It's a big deal."

He groaned dramatically and flopped back on the pillows. "Wannabe midwives and their tight schedules..."

She laughed and pulled away to start gathering some clean clothes. By the time she was dressed, Scott was sitting at the edge of the bed in just his boxers, watching her like she was a work of art.

"Text me later? Let me know how your first day goes." he asked, standing and walking alongside her to the front door once he was fully dressed.

"I will."

At the doorway, he kissed her again—slower this time. There was something behind it, something quietly significant. Like a promise neither of them spoke aloud.

She watched him go down the drive, his coat pulled over his head, the morning light turning his hair to gold where it peeked out. Once he was gone, she closed the door with a quiet click and turned around—

Only to find Aura sitting cross-legged on the staircase, arms resting on her knees, chin propped in her palm.

Her eyes were wide and curious. "So... you have a new boyfriend, huh?"

Harriet froze. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough." Aura said with a shrug, her face half-sleepy, half-smirking. "You let him stay over. Mom and dad would freak outttttt."

Harriet gave her a flat look. "You're fourteen, Aura."

"I'm fifteen in a few months!"

"That's still too young to be asking loaded questions about what I did last night."

Aura tilted her head. "So you're not denying it?"

Harriet sighed, stepping closer. "You're way too young to know! And too smart to pretend you don't already." She ruffled Aura's hair affectionately, making the younger girl squawk and swat her hand away.

"Ugh! You messed it up!"

"You were eavesdropping on my love life." Harriet said, grinning as she walked toward the kitchen. "Consider it payback."

Aura trailed after her, adjusting her sleep shirt. "Was it your first time?"

Harriet nearly dropped her coffee mug.

"You're seriously pushing it now, kid."

Aura gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm just... curious. Everyone talks about this stuff at school like they know everything, and they really don't."

Harriet softened. She turned, meeting her sister's gaze. "It was. And I waited until I was ready. Until I felt safe. That's all I'll say. You should do the same."

Before Aura could reply, the kitchen door swung open with a soft creak, and Camila and Thomas Baldwin stepped inside. Both were impeccably dressed—Camila in a her nursing uniform that hugged her slender frame, Thomas in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled just so. They radiated an aura of corporate polish and controlled energy, like two people about to step onto a stage for a press conference rather than just leave for work.

Thomas barely glanced up from his phone as he asked, voice casual but edged with distraction, "Who's making such a fuss this early?"

"Nothing." Harriet and Aura replied in perfect unison, their voices small and a little rushed.

Thomas brushed past them, eyes still glued to his screen, leaving only the faintest trace of cologne in the air. Camila lingered at the bottom of the stairs, her fingers deftly pulling her glossy hair back into a smooth, no-nonsense ponytail.

"We're leaving in ten minutes." she said firmly, voice warm but businesslike. "If you want a ride, Harriet, be ready."

Camila turned toward Aura with a softer smile, her voice dropping an octave. "By the way, Harper's coming home this weekend. Aunt Julia's picking her up."

Aura blinked, eyes wide with disbelief. "Home-home? Like for real?"

Camila nodded, her gaze briefly flickering to the clock. "Your father and I will be working late, so please... keep her grounded. No drama. Text your aunt Julia if anything goes wrong."

Aura's innocence was palpable as she tilted her head, whispering. "I didn't even touch her side of the room."

Before anyone could respond, Jackson shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes. His voice was rough but curious. "Harper's coming home? Tonight?"

"Yes." Camila replied, grabbing her keys from the counter with purposeful calm. "Don't let her wander off. And if anything seems off... text your aunt."

Jackson muttered something low and inaudible under his breath, his brow furrowed as Camila and Thomas exchanged a brief glance and then swept out the door like a perfectly synchronized machine.

Minutes later, Harriet reappeared, now fully dressed and somehow glowing—not just from the morning light, but from a quiet, inner warmth. Her cheeks held a soft flush, the kind that lingered after a meaningful kiss or a night filled with promise.

"Let's go!" she called cheerfully, slinging her bag over one shoulder with a confident ease that felt new.

"Be good! See you later!" Camila called back over her shoulder.

Harriet was already out the door, the ghost of Scott's kiss still fresh on her lips—a small spark of warmth and thrilling certainty blossoming in her chest. Something had shifted, quietly but irrevocably, and she could feel it.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden haze over the Baldwin estate. The grand iron gates, normally cold and forbidding, seemed almost warm as the sleek black car rolled slowly up the winding driveway. Harper sat in the back seat, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her sweater, her gaze fixed on the familiar landscape that felt both achingly close and painfully distant.

Months of confinement at Warren Mental Hospital had transformed her world into a series of sterile walls, blaring fluorescent lights, and endless appointments. Now, after so long, she was here again—stepping back into a life that felt fragile, complicated, and layered with memories both sweet and sharp.

Aunt Julia, steady and quietly reassuring, kept one hand on the steering wheel and glanced at Harper through the rearview mirror. Her calm eyes met Harper's. "Almost there, Har. Remember to breathe. You're safe."

Harper gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, swallowing the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of nerves twisting in her chest. Her bipolar disorder had led her through months of manic bursts and crushing lows, and though medication had leveled the edges, the fear of losing control still lingered beneath the surface.

The car came to a gentle stop, and Aunt Julia opened the door with a soft click. Harper hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping out, the cool air brushing against her skin like a tentative greeting. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers flooded her senses, grounding her in the moment.

At the front door stood Jackson, Cody, and Aura—waiting with a mixture of anticipation and guarded hope. Jackson's grin was softened by concern, his brow furrowed slightly as he took in Harper's pale, fragile frame. Cody stood tall and steady, a quiet pillar of support, while Aura, clutched her older brother's arm, her wide eyes shining with a blend of excitement and nervousness.

Jackson stepped forward first, his voice low but warm. "Harper."

Harper's lips curved into a tentative smile. She let herself be pulled into Jackson's embrace, the warmth of his hug seeping into her bones—a moment of connection she hadn't realized she'd craved. The hug was brief but meaningful, a silent promise that she wasn't alone.

Cody offered a gentle nod and a soft, "Good to see you, Harp." his voice steady and reassuring.

Aura, shy but determined, stepped closer, holding out her hand. Harper glanced down, heart swelling with affection, and slipped her fingers into Aura's small hand. "Hey, Aury." she murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Aura's ear.

Aunt Julia closed the car door behind them and said "Let's get you inside. Your parents won't be home for a while."

They crossed the threshold together, the familiar creak of the wooden floor under Harper's feet sending a rush of memories through her. The house smelled of polished wood and something faintly floral—her mother's signature scent lingering in the air.

Inside, the atmosphere was quiet but charged. The rooms held stories—arguments, laughter, tears—all woven into the fabric of the place. Harper felt the weight of it, the pull of the past mingling uneasily with the fragile hope of now.

Her heart beat fast as she realized this day was a fragile reprieve—a chance to reconnect, to feel normal, even if just for a little while. The battle with her mind was far from over, but here, surrounded by family, she found a small sanctuary.