Chapter Eighty Seven - Fractures At Breakfast

The house held a breath it couldn't seem to exhale.

Outside, the sky was painted in thin layers of silver and rose, the early morning clouds low and still, as if nature, too, sensed something was off. Inside the kitchen, the warmth from the Aga stove cast a golden glow across the polished tile floor, but it couldn't shake the chill that curled at the edges of the room like a whisper.

Aura padded down the staircase first, her bare feet making almost no sound against the varnished wood. She was wrapped in a worn cream cardigan that smelled faintly of lavender detergent and her mother's perfume. Her hair was loosely braided from the night before, strands falling like tired feathers around her face. She moved like someone expecting the world to still be asleep.

Behind her, Jackson thundered down like a half-woken storm. His hoodie was on backwards, hood slouched across his chest, and his pyjama pants were bunched around his ankles. He yawned so wide his jaw popped.

In the kitchen, Mariah stood at the stove, humming a lullaby from her childhood in Sweden under her breath, the tune lilting and strange in the quiet house. She was spooning creamy risgrynsgröt into bowls, the thick cinnamon rice porridge swirling in clouds of steam. She wore a soft blue sweater, sleeves rolled to her elbows, her dark curls tied up in a red scarf. Her hands moved with practiced grace, but her eyes flicked too often toward the hallway.

"God morgon." she greeted, setting bowls down gently. "Hungriga?"

Jackson blinked at her, slumping into a kitchen chair. "English please, Mar."

Mariah smiled softly, but there was a crease between her brows that hadn't been there yesterday. "Sorry. I asked if you were hungry."

Aura hovered near the counter, fingers curling around the edge of the marble like it might anchor her. "It smells really nice," she offered quietly. "Thank you, Mariah."

Mariah hesitated. Her eyes searched Aura's face, then Jackson's, then back again. "I wanted to ask you both something."

Jackson frowned. "Okay..."

"Have either of you heard from Harper lately?" she asked, keeping her tone light, but her voice wobbled at the end.

Aura blinked. The question hit her like cold water. "No?" she said. "She hasn't... she hasn't written back in a while. I've sent her three letters this month. But nothing."

Jackson scratched the back of his neck. "Last time we visited, she was really quiet. But not, like... weird. I thought she just needed space. She said she was recovering there, like she felt safe."

Mariah pursed her lips, nodding slowly. She picked up a spoon, stirred a bowl absentmindedly. 

Before either sibling could ask more, a voice rose sharply from the front hall. Muffled but urgent.

Camila.

Aura and Jackson froze. They hadn't heard her come down.

They exchanged a glance, then crept to the kitchen threshold. Mariah stood still, spoon hovering over the saucepan.

Camila's silhouette was just visible through the frosted glass of the dining room door. Her back was to them, one hand braced against the hallway wall like she might collapse without it. The phone was clutched to her ear, her voice strained—sharp with something that sounded dangerously close to panic.

"You don't understand—she doesn't run away. She's never run away like that. She gets quiet, yes but she shuts down, she stays. The only time she's ran away was when she was ten and-"

A pause. Camila paced half a step. The wood floor creaked faintly under her bare feet.

"She's not just gone. She's missing. There's a difference. And she's not well enough to—" Her voice broke, barely a crack, but enough to splinter something deep inside Aura.

The silence that followed was sudden and absolute.

Then came the whisper: "Please. Just find my daughter."

The call ended.

Camila turned slowly toward the kitchen, and the moment her eyes met theirs, Aura knew. Her mother's mascara had smudged beneath one eye, as if she'd forgotten halfway through putting it on—or had rubbed her face without realizing. Her blouse was misbuttoned at the top, cardigan slipping from one shoulder. She looked like she hadn't slept. Like she hadn't even tried.

Aura spoke first, her voice small. "Mom, what happened?"

Jackson stood straighter beside her, his lips parted but no words forming.

Camila looked at her children, then at Mariah, and the panic on her face softened into something much heavier. Grief. Dread.

"It's Harper." she said. "She's missing. They think she's ran away."

The silence that followed was physical—heavy as stone. The walls of the house seemed to inch inward.

"Missing?" Aura repeated, barely a breath. "From Warren?"

"She left sometime during the night." Camila said, her voice dry. "They didn't notice until this morning. Her bed was cold. She took nothing.. No one saw her leave. They don't know how she got past the night staff."

"But—why?" Jackson said, his voice breaking with confusion. "She was getting better. She said she liked it there. She said it felt... safe."

Camila closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. "I don't know what changed. But she's out there. Alone."

Aura leaned against the doorframe like her legs could no longer be trusted. "She didn't write back. I thought maybe the nurses were just holding the letters. Or... or she was really tired."

"This isn't your fault." Camila said fiercely, crossing the room. She cupped Aura's face in both hands. "None of this is your fault."

"Have the police started looking?" Mariah asked gently, stepping closer.

Camila nodded, but her mouth twisted. "They've filed a report."

The stovetop hissed suddenly—milk boiling over in the saucepan, hitting the burner with a sharp spit. Mariah rushed to pull it off, but no one else moved.

Aura's arms wrapped around her chest like a shield. "What if she's scared somewhere? Or... cold? What if she thinks we forgot her?"

"We didn't." Camila said. "And we won't stop until she's home."

The kitchen, once the heart of the house, had never felt colder.

Camila said, barely louder than a whisper. "They're treating it as a potential safety risk. Not a criminal thing. Not yet. But she was under their supervision. They're... worried." She sank back down slowly, her hands curling into each other in her lap.

It was then that the front door creaked open.

All eyes turned as Cody walked in, still wearing the hoodie he'd slept in. His hair was wind-mussed, his breath fogging faintly in the morning air. He let out a soft yawn and kicked his shoes off lazily in the hallway.

"Hey." he called casually. "Did someone die or something? It's like... funeral quiet in here."

He rounded the corner into the kitchen—and froze. Camila's eyes were red. Aura looked like she'd seen a ghost. Mariah's arms were still tightly crossed, her jaw tense.

"What's going on?" he asked slowly, voice wary now.

Camila stood again, her voice hoarse. "Where were you last night?"

He furrowed his brow. "Why? What's—"

"Harper's missing." Aura said flatly, not looking at him. "She left Warren. No one knows where she is."

For a second, Cody didn't react. Then his mouth parted—just slightly—and something shifted in his expression. A flicker. A flash of realization.

Jackson noticed it instantly. "What?"

Cody blinked. "Nothing. I mean—I... I didn't think—"

Camila took a step forward. "Cody. What do you know?"

He hesitated, the truth bubbling just behind his teeth. He looked down, then up again. "Millie called me. Last night. Around midnight."

"Why?" Camila asked, voice sharp.

"She was driving home from work and she saw someone running along Route 4. No coat, no shoes. Just... sprinting. In the dark."

His voice broke slightly. "It was Harper."

Aura's breath caught. Mariah let out a tiny gasp.

"She didn't look okay. Millie said she looked manic. Wild. She was crying and talking nonsense. Kept saying someone was following her. That she couldn't go back. She thought people were watching her."

"Jesus." Jackson muttered.

Cody nodded. "Millie got her into the car eventually. Call me and we took her straight to Aunt Julia's. She's safe. But she wasn't—she wasn't okay. She was in full-on panic mode."

"Why the hell didn't you tell us?!" Jackson snapped.

"I didn't want to scare anyone." Cody said quickly. "I thought maybe Harper or Aunt Julia would call this morning. I didn't think I should be the one to—"

Camila sank into her chair again. Her hand trembled as it pressed over her lips.

Mariah stepped in softly. "You said Julia was with her?"

Cody nodded. "I didn't know where else to bring her.."

"Does she know the police are looking for her? Does she know anything?" Aura asked, her voice shaking.

"I don't think so." Cody said. "I doubt it. She wasn't... she wasn't in a place to understand any of that. She looked awful. Completely out of it."

Camila stood slowly. Straighter this time. Firmer. 

"Call your father. Tell him to meet me at Julia's." she said, grabbing her car keys.

Cody pulled out his phone with fumbling fingers and pressing on his father's contact.

The light from the window stretched across the hardwood floor in long golden bars, illuminating the cold breakfast plates, the untouched eggs, the faces of a family straining under the weight of silence, secrets, and fragile hope.