"My mom's calling me!"

Briony shot to her feet, ready to rush over, but Ferdinand reached out and caught her by the wrist just in time.

It was a mild season in the old town, and Briony wore only a short-sleeved shirt. Ferdinand's hand was warm and dry against her skin.

She paused, gaze dropping to his hand on her wrist-long, slender fingers, knuckles sharply defined.

Noticing her glance, Ferdinand quickly let go. "Sorry. I just wanted to tell you- don't go over yet."

Briony barely noticed, her mind wholly on her mother. "I'm worried she'll panic if she can't find me."

"Let's wait and watch a bit," Ferdinand said gently. "Give her a moment to respond on her own."

Briony understood at once. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

The bedroom door opened. Julia stepped out into the hallway.

Briony's eyes locked onto her mother.

"Bryn..."

Julia's gaze swept the living room, immediately catching sight of the new year's garlands strung across the mantel. She glanced around, her eyes soon landing on the frosted floral decals clinging to the glass doors.

"Bryn, Bryn..."

She walked to the patio doors, pressing her palm to the glass, eyes darting nervously about.

and Ferdinand, a flash

obvious-she

Briony's chest faded as quickly

woke up to these familiar surroundings, even if she couldn't consciously remember, it must have made her feel safe. Her anxiety is definitely

tentative, searching movements and realized he was right. Compared to before, this was

"Bryn..."

the glass, whispering Briony's name

to step back right away. Otherwise, she might lash out again

walked forward, her voice gentle and coaxing. "Mom, look at me. I'm right

turning

uncertainty and fear still clouding

"It's me, Mom."

few steps, wary and confused, fixated on

rose, repeating "Bryn" faster and faster,

immediately. "Stop there. Give

a few paces away, watching her mother closely.

back, not

"Bryn..." she murmured. "Bryn...year..."

window

voice choked. "Yes, I'm always waiting for

she reached up, awkwardly touching the

down completely,

to wipe her daughter's tears, but the more she wiped, the more Briony

time, her tears were different-no longer the frantic, panicked cries of before. She seemed like a lost child, helplessly trying to comfort Briony while wiping

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