The door opened before Lili even had time to lift her hand. Astonia stood in the doorway, her breath caught in her throat the moment she saw her daughter. Behind her, Colin appeared, slower in his steps—still favoring the side she had once struck. Lili froze, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her sleeve. She didn’t lift her gaze. Her eyes stayed trained somewhere between the floor and her shoes.
Neither parent said anything for a moment. Notori shifted behind her, gently placing a hand on her back.
“She’s here,” Mike said softly. “We’ll leave the rest to you.”
And with that, both men stepped back, letting Lili take the step forward if she chose.
Astonia’s voice cracked the silence. “Lili…”
At the sound of her name, Lili flinched. Her throat worked around words she couldn’t quite form. Still, she crossed the threshold in hesitant steps.
Colin took a breath, steady but heavy. “You’re not a monster,” he said.
A breath hitched in Lili’s throat. A tremor ran through her, barely visible but relentless and her arms wrapped around herself like she could cage the shattering from within. Still she didn’t lift her gaze. Her eyes stayed locked on the floor.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered. “You don’t know what I’ve done… what I am.”
Colin took a step forward, but stopped himself. Astonia’s hand brushed his wrist instead of the final steps.
“You think we haven’t imagined it?” he asked softly. “Lived with the horror of what might’ve been done to you? By you? But you’re here, Lili. You walked through that door. That means to us more than anything else.”
“No, it means I ran out of places to hide,” she snapped, but her voice faltered at the end.
Astonia stepped closer now. “You’re still standing. That’s not failure, Lili.”
Lili shook her head, her hands trembling as they clutched tighter to the fabric of her sleeves. “I’m not someone you should be proud of. I’m not someone anyone should welcome back.”
“You’re still our daughter,” Colin said, quietly, unshaken. “And that doesn’t stop just because the world tried to change you.”
Finally, her eyes slightly lifted just enough to see his face lined with the quiet ache of a father who had waited too long to hold his child without blood between them.
“I almost killed you,” Lili whispered, the words barely dragging out of her. “What kind of daughter does that?”
“The kind who was drowning,” he said. “The kind who thought pain was the only thing she deserved. The kind who was used, twisted, pushed into corners no child should ever be forced into.”
“You were trying to survive,” Astonia said. “Even if it meant fighting what you didn’t understand yet.”
Lili’s breath caught. Her shoulders shook. “But I didn’t come back whole.”
“No one does,” Colin replied. “That’s not what matters.”
He reached out slowly, giving her every chance to flinch or flee. And when she didn’t move, he gently touched her shoulder. “What matters is that you came back at all.”
Lili let out a deep, trembling breath.
“Let’s not just stand here,” Astonia said gently. “Come on, let’s sit down. The living room’s just through here, alright?”
Lili gave a small nod, not trusting her voice, and followed them quietly. Her steps were cautious, like the floor might give out beneath her. But as they moved down the hall, she paused glancing over her shoulder, eyes flicking toward the door.
“They both left,” Colin said gently, catching the unspoken question in her eyes. “They thought you needed time with us.”
Lili blinked. “Why?” she asked. “Shouldn’t they… take me into custody or something?”
Colin exchanged a glance with Astonia before turning back to her.
“Maybe for once… someone decided not to treat you like a threat the moment you let your guard down.” he said.
Lili scoffed under her breath. “That’s a first.”
Astonia stepped in, her arm brushing gently against Lili’s as she guided her toward the couch. “It doesn’t have to be the last.”
“That’s not how the law works,” Lili muttered, her voice low and bitter, like a truth she’d swallowed too many times before.
“No,” Colin agreed, and there was a shadow in his eyes now—something grim and unsettled beneath the calm. “It’s not. And that’s exactly what worries me.”
He sat down slowly, rubbing his palms together once before resting them on his knees. “Mike will explain everything. There are… complications to this. But it won’t be today.”
Lili looked uncertain between them. “Why not today?”
“Because you need time,” Colin said simply.
Lili’s mouth twitched. “Okay…” she said quietly, the word feeling too light for the weight it carried. Her gaze dropped. “But when?”
Astonia answered softly, “When you’re strong enough and when we’re sure it won’t be used against you.”
Lili nodded slowly, still unsure, still drifting. But she accepted it for now.
Colin and Astonia exchanged a glance—silent, subtle, but something passed between them.
Colin leaned back slightly, his tone softening. “Why don’t you tell us more about you, Lili? Not the assassin everyone feared. Just… you.”
Astonia leaned forward, her eyes kind but cautious. “What did you like? Before all of this. Was there something that made you feel whole even for a moment?”
Lili blinked, caught off guard. She looked between them as if they’d spoken in a language she hadn’t heard in years.
“I don’t…” Her voice faltered. She glanced down at her hands, fingers nervously twisting together. “I don’t really know. I didn’t live like that. For myself, I mean. I existed for purpose. Even when I wasn’t on a mission, I was just… waiting for the next.” A pause. “I never had space for things like hobbies or dreams,” she said after a moment. “They were dangerous. Distractions got you killed.”
Astonia’s heart cracked, but her voice remained even. “You have space now.”
Lili’s lips parted, like she might protest, but she didn’t. She only nodded slowly.
***
Sleep consumed Lili quickly. Her body, exhausted beyond measure, surrendered without resistance.
At first, her breathing was soft, her expression slackened. But soon the tremors began, subtle at first, then sharper. Her face twisted, hands clutching at the blanket in her sleep. And then—
A scream tore from her throat.
Colin and Astonia burst into the room, hearts pounding, only to find the bed empty.
“Lili?” Astonia called, panic rising.
A soft rustle answered—then a low, broken sob.
Colin spotted her first. “There,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Lili had wedged herself beneath the desk, her body curled tight, trembling so violently her teeth chattered. Her arms were locked around her knees, forehead pressed to her thighs, trying to make herself small and unseen.
“Lili,” Astonia said softly, kneeling too, her voice steady but laced with ache. “It’s us. You’re safe. You’re home.”
“No…” Lili rasped, her voice hoarse. “Don’t let them—don’t let them come back.”
Her words shattered into incoherence. Guilt. Fear. The remnants of torture tangled in every breath.
“No one’s coming,” Colin assured, not moving closer yet. “No one can reach you here. We’ve got you.”
“Look at me, sweetheart,” Astonia whispered, voice breaking on the endearment. “Please… come back to us. Just look at me.”
It took minutes until slowly, inch by inch Lili’s head lifted. Her eyes, bloodshot and wild, locked onto her mother’s. Confusion flickered there, recognition followed. And at last a loud sob wrenched loose from her chest.
Astonia crawled the rest of the way and wrapped her arms around her daughter, gently guiding her out from under the desk.
“You’re okay,” she murmured, again and again. “You’re okay, baby. It’s over. It’s over.”
When Lili finally calmed, her head rested heavy against Astonia’s shoulder.
Astonia smoothed a trembling hand through her daughter’s tangled hair and whispered softly, “Let’s get you back to bed, sweetheart. You need to rest.”
But Lili flinched, her whole body recoiling as if struck. She jerked upright, eyes wide with raw fear.
“No…” she gasped. “I won’t… I don’t want to go back there.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, barely more than a breath.
Astonia met Colin’s eyes. Colin gave a small nod and stood slowly. “Alright,” he said gently. “Then let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make us some tea.”
Lili hesitated, like she didn’t quite trust the offer. But then, timidly, she nodded. “Okay…”
They moved slowly—Astonia at her side, Colin ahead guiding her through the quiet of the apartment, past closed doors and slumbering shadows, into the soft yellow light of the kitchen.
Colin opened cabinets and set the kettle to boil. Every movement was silent that no sudden noise would startle her again. Astonia guided Lili to a chair, her hand still lightly touching her daughter’s back, like she was afraid to let go.
Lili sat hunched, arms wrapped tight around herself. Her gaze drifted across the kitchen like she didn’t quite trust it to stay real. The walls felt too clean and too still. The silence made her feel like something was waiting to break.
“Chamomile okay?” Colin asked, his voice careful and warm.
Lili nodded mutely. “I used to sit like this,” Lili murmured suddenly. “When I was younger. After missions…”
Colin set the cup in front of her. “Did anyone sit with you then?”
Lili shook her head, eyes fixed on the steam curling from her tea. “There wasn’t anyone to sit with me.”
“There is now.” Astonia told.
“I don’t know how to live like this,” Lili confessed. “Everything still hurts, even when it’s quiet. Maybe especially then.”
“That’s grief,” Colin said softly. “And guilt. But it means your soul is still alive enough to feel it.”
Lili blinked hard, a tear slipping silently down her cheek. “I don’t know if I can be fixed.”
“You don’t need to be fixed,” Astonia whispered. “You just need to heal in your own time and in your own way.”
***
The sun had risen unnoticed, spilling soft gold through the windows, casting a fragile peace over the living room. Phones lay forgotten on the table, their screens glowing with Mike’s missed calls and increasingly frantic messages:
“Are you three alright?”
“Is Lili okay? Behaving?”
“You don’t answer now, I’ll break the door down.”
And then came the doorbell—shrill and sudden, followed by sharp, insistent pounding.
Lili jolted awake, breath catching in her throat. Her heart kicked into chaos. In an instant, she was on her feet, stumbling backward until her spine met the wall. Her breathing quickened, shallow and fast, her arms wrapping around herself.
Colin stirred groggily, blinking against the light, while Astonia sat up, knives already hovering in the air.
“I’ll go open the door,” she muttered.
“Wait!” Colin pushed himself upright with a wince. “You’re not doing this alone.”
Astonia turned sharply. “Yeah? You’re still recovering, Colin!”
He opened his mouth to argue but faltered.
“Stay with our daughter,” Astonia said, nodding toward Lili, whose wide, unblinking eyes shimmered with fear, her back pressed so tightly against the wall.
Without waiting for argument, she turned and strode toward the door, knives glinting around her, then vanishing into the air as she steadied her breath.
She swung the door open and blinked in surprise.
“Mike?” she asked, tension loosening ever so slightly from her shoulders.
Mike stood there, hair windswept, jaw clenched. His relief was immediate, though short-lived. “Why the hell haven’t you answered your phone?”
“We were sleeping,” Astonia replied simply, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.
“Sleeping!?” he echoed, incredulous, glancing at his wristwatch. “It’s nearly 2 p.m.”
With a small shake of her head, Astonia gestured for him to come inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Lili woke up screaming around three in the morning. Nightmares. She was under the desk when we found her—curled up, shaking. After that… no one could sleep for a long time.”
Mike exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “God. I started to think she might’ve killed you both.” His words were half-joke, half-fear.
Astonia gave him a flat look. “She’s not a monster, Mike.”
“I know that,” he said quickly. “I do. But after everything she’s been through… panic like that turns people into ghosts of themselves.”
A beat passed between them, heavy with the weight of shared concern.
“Is everything okay?” Colin’s voice called out from the living room.
Both Astonia and Mike stepped into the room together. The light filtering through the blinds painted soft lines across the space. Lili sat curled on the sofa, her frame swallowed in a blanket. Her shoulders trembled under its weight, and though her breath was shallow, she was trying to steady it. Her wide, panic-washed eyes lifted and met Mike’s.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered before anyone could speak. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”
“You didn’t,” Colin assured gently, moving to sit beside her without crowding. “You’re allowed to not be okay, Lili.”
Lili turned her gaze back to Mike, eyes sharp now, though dulled by the remnants of sleep and fear. “You really thought I might’ve killed them?” she asked. “I’m a bit disappointed, honestly. I thought you’d blame the mafia first.”
Mike exhaled, slow and heavy, running a hand through his hair. “Lili, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said gently. “It’s that I understand what pressure does. Especially to people like you.”
“People like me?” she echoed, her brow arching.
“Gifted,” Mike clarified. “When emotions go unchecked, powers follow. Emotional stability isn’t just important. It’s necessary. Otherwise… the Gift can spiral, and so can you.”
Lili lowered her eyes for a moment, absorbing that.
“You’re not dangerous,” Mike repeated. “You’re hurt. And there’s a difference.”
Lili didn’t respond right away. Her hands clenched tighter around the blanket. Then, barely audible over the hum of the apartment, she spoke. “I’m not sure you have to worry about that…” she murmured. “I can’t feel my powers. Not for a while now…”
The room stilled, the weight of her words sinking into the silence.
Mike’s brows pulled together, his expression shifting from concern to alertness. “Since when?”
“Since I tried to kill myself,” Lili answered. “So, it’s about a few weeks? After that, it’s like something went quiet inside me.”
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