In Lucian's house, the atmosphere had turned warm.
They sat together in the living room, spending some time together, talking and sharing stories.
The lights were soft. The curtains were half-drawn, with the afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows, naturally brightening the room.
Seraphina didn't speak much—she mostly listened.
Her gaze moved between the two of them, but her eyes lingered longer on her son.
On Lucian.
It felt comforting, watching her son laugh like that, so genuinely happy.
Her heart warmed at the sight of him smiling.
It was a sight she hadn't seen in a long time—one she had thought she had lost forever.
There had been a time when Lucian used to laugh like that often. When he was younger.
When he still clung to her hand without hesitation. When everything was fine.
But then things changed.
She didn't care about what she had to suffer, but she hated the fact that he, too, had to go through the same things.
She had thought that the smiling, laughing version of him was gone.
Yet here he was, behaving as if nothing bad had ever happened in his life.
Even Lia… the girl was kind.
At first, she seemed a little uncomfortable around her. Her movements were slightly stiff. Her smile was polite but cautious.
It was understandable, after all, Seraphina was just a stranger to her.
But after talking for a while, she slowly opened up.
Her laughter became less restrained, and she stopped choosing her words so carefully.
She truly was a good sister to Lucian—kind, cute, and sincere.
Seraphina could see it in the way Lia looked at him. The trust in her eyes. The way she unconsciously leaned closer to him while speaking.
She wasn't pretending.
She truly cared for him.
Seraphina noticed Lia zoning out mid-conversation.
Her eyes drifted slightly, and her smile dimmed for a bit.
Lucian noticed too.
"What happened?" he asked immediately, his tone filled with concern.
"Ah—nothing." Lia smiled again, though there was a trace of sadness in it.
"I just remembered father and mother."
"Oh," Lucian muttered softly.
The room fell into a brief silence.
Seraphina watched him carefully. Lia's words must have stirred something in him too.
It wasn't that Lucian didn't remember them—or didn't think about them.
He did.
He remembered everything.
But he rather chose to focus on what was in front of him.
With the constant stress of protecting his mother, worrying about his sister, and the looming apocalypse, he hadn't allowed himself the time to reminisce.
It might have sounded cold.
Detached.
But Lucian had seen his sister die.
He had seen his mother suffer.
He had lived through moments that should have broken him.
And he wasn't going to let anything stop him now.
Lucian looked at Lia.
Then raised his hand and gently stroked her head.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
Lia looked at him, surprised at first, then smiled faintly.
The sadness in her eyes softened, replaced by warmth. She leaned slightly into his touch, comforted.
Seraphina watched the scene and smiled as well.
Her son had truly become dependable.
She reached out and placed her hand over Lia's.
Lia looked at her, slightly startled.
"I am Lucian's mother," Seraphina said softly.
"So… I am like a mother to you, too."
Lia's eyes widened in surprise.
For a moment, she seemed unsure how to respond. Then her lips curved into a small, sincere smile.
"Mm."
She nodded.
***
After that, they had lunch.
Lia cooked while Lucian helped her.
Seraphina had wanted to cook as well, but both of them immediately stopped her.
Especially Lucian.
She had only just gotten out of that hellhole, and he didn't want her doing anything—at least not until she was healthier.
Even though her condition had improved slightly, she was still a bit skinny.
So she sat at the dining table and watched them cook.
Lucian had learned to cook during this period. Nothing fancy—just basic dishes, but enough to manage.
He grabbed the knife and sliced the vegetables, cutting them with steady hands.
He adjusted the seasonings without measuring, since he had already grown used to them.
Lia occasionally corrected him.
"You added too much salt."
"I didn't add salt yet."
"...Oh."
Seraphina watched them bicker lightly.
It felt normal.
So painfully normal.
Something she hadn't experienced in years.
Seeing him like this, she felt a bittersweet sensation in her heart.
After lunch, they all went out.
For shopping.
Seraphina had almost no clothes of her own.
They went to a modest clothing store nearby.
It wasn't too expensive, nor too cheap.
Seraphina hesitated at the entrance, seeing so many people.
Lucian noticed.
He slowed his steps slightly, matching her pace.
He held her hands gently, his actions faintly startling her.
"It's fine," he said quietly, softly tightening his grasp on her fingers.
Lia, walking beside them, slightly narrowed her eyes, feeling a bit jealous, but didn't say anything.
Seraphina nodded, a small smile tugged at her lips.
Inside, Lia enthusiastically picked out outfits.
Lucian, too, picked some clothes for her.
Seraphina allowed herself to be led around.
She tried on many clothes, some for the house and some for going out.
As she stepped out wearing a simple light-coloured dress, Lucian paused.
It suited her.
Many women and men nearby murmured softly upon seeing her.
But none of the three paid them any attention.
Lia clapped lightly.
"See? It looks good."
"You look beautiful, mother," Lucian said, smiling gently.
Seraphina felt… embarrassed.
But also happy.
They bought several sets, enough to fill a wardrobe.
Seraphina didn't want that many clothes, but both Lucian and Lia insisted, not even letting her have a say.
Then they went out for a while.
Just walking.
It had been so long since Seraphina had been outside, walking freely beneath the open sky.
The wind brushed against her hair, and the sunlight touched her skin.
There were no walls, no restraints, no surveillance.
By the time they returned home, it was already evening.
During dinner, Lia suddenly spoke up.
"Where will Ms. Sera sleep?"
Neither Lucian nor Seraphina had insisted on such formality.
Seraphina had told Lia she could see her as a mother—but she didn't force her to call her Mom or anything like that.
Lucian, knowing that, didn't interfere.
Still, Lia's question was valid.
"Hm." He tilted his head, thinking.
"Mo–"
Before he could respond,
"I can sleep with brother–"
"I can sleep with Lucian–"
Both stopped, looking at each other.
Lucian raised his eyebrows.
Seraphina tilted her head slightly, waiting for Lia to continue.
Lia cleared her throat, suddenly flustered.
"Um… I meant—
You can sleep in my room. I will sleep with brother."
She didn't mind sleeping in Lucian's room.
In fact, she often did, since it was usually lonely sleeping alone.
"You don't have to worry about me," Seraphina said gently, looking at Lucian.
"I can sleep with you."
Then she hesitated.
"I can… right?"
Having her son back, she wanted to keep him as close as possible.
But she still asked.
She knew some children disliked clingy parents, and she didn't want him to start resenting her for that.
"Mom, you don't have to talk like that," Lucian said quietly, his tone firm but soft.
His mother had been lonely for years.
He wanted to fulfil every wish she had.
If sleeping beside him brought her comfort, then that was enough.
Lia stopped insisting as well, understanding his decision.
***
Inside the washroom, Seraphina looked at her reflection.
So much had happened in just one day.
All because of her stupid son.
Thinking of him, a smile slowly crept onto her usually cold, expressionless face.
Why hadn't he told her earlier that he was her son?
She knew the answer.
There were many reasons—one of them being that piece of shit finding out.
If Lucian had told her the truth on the very first day… she might have dismissed him.
She might have pushed him away.
She might have refused to believe him.
She washed her face slowly.
Water dripped down her cheeks.
She looked better now than she had when they first met.
Then her thoughts drifted to the mental facility.
Her expression turned cold.
The warmth from earlier faded.
Those white walls.
Locked doors.
The smell of disinfectant.
The sound of distant screams at night.
She still harboured deep resentment toward that place.
Especially toward certain people within it.
Her fingers tightened around the sink, her nails pressing into it.
She wasn't alone anymore.
Her son was here—alive and well.
And she would never—
Ever—
Allow herself to be dragged back into that place again.
Not while she breathed.
Not while her son still breathed beside her.
She straightened slowly.
Her reflection stared at her.
Her expression was calm, but beneath it—something darker waited.