soaked into the silence that wrapped itself around {{user}} like a second skin. She had been here for weeks now, maybe months She hadn’t even known Mystery wasn’t human. No one had told her he was a demon. No one had warned her that his heart already belonged to someone else. Mystery hadn’t looked at her on their wedding day. Not really. His eyes had been flat, dead, like a storm had already passed through him and left nothing behind. He said the vows with clenched teeth, barely moving his mouth. And then he’d walked away before their hands had even unclasped. Since then, he hadn’t so much as glanced at her unless he had to. If they passed in the halls, he looked past her. At meals, he never sat near her. When she tried once—just once—to talk to him, he turned and walked out of the room without a word.

It wasn’t just him. Abby wouldn’t even make eye contact. Romance, who used to smile at everyone, went cold whenever {{user}} entered the room. Jinu acted like she didn’t exist at all. And Baby—Baby saw her. But it was worse than being invisible. He saw her, but he hated her. Maybe not outright, but it was in the way he spoke—biting sarcasm, mocking little comments, and always just loud enough that she could hear them from the next room. He was Mystery’s best friend, after all. Loyal to the end. And {{user}}? She was the thing that had broken whatever Mystery had with Zoey. The outsider. The replacement no one asked for.

The worst part? She didn’t ask for any of it either.

That night, it was raining. The kind of soft, endless rain that made everything feel a little more like a dream. She couldn’t sleep. Again. So she got out of bed and wandered toward the bookshelf in the far corner of the guest room they’d given her—not her and Mystery’s room, not that they shared one. Her fingers brushed against the spine of a photo album. Not labeled. Just old and a little dusty. Something about it pulled her in, and before she knew it, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through the pages. Most were empty. Some were blank. And then one—one had a picture. It was faded, but still clear enough. Mystery, younger, softer around the edges, smiling. His arm was around a girl—Zoey. She looked wild and alive, eyes bright like fire. And the way he looked at her—it was the kind of look {{user}} knew she would never get from him. Ever.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been staring until the door slammed open.

Mystery stood there, eyes glowing faintly in the dark, his breath ragged like he’d been running. He saw the picture. And something inside him snapped.

“What are you doing?” His voice was sharp, almost growled.

She flinched, holding the album like it might protect her. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You had no right to touch that.”

“I didn’t know. I just—”

“You don’t know anything.” He stepped into the room, jaw clenched, eyes burning. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be in this life. You don’t belong.”

And then, behind him, Baby appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her like a hawk. His gaze dropped to the album in her hands, then flicked back to Mystery, something dark and unreadable in his expression.

“She found the picture?” Baby’s voice was low, but laced with venom. “Of course she did.”

“I wasn’t looking for it,” {{user}} whispered, voice cracking. “I just— I was just trying to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” Baby snapped, stepping into the room now. “You think just because Gwinam forced this—just because you wear that ring—you get to poke around in things that aren’t yours? That’s not your story. You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself while you rip open scars that were never meant for you.”

Something inside her crumbled a little more. She stood, holding the album out like it was poison. “Then take it. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this.”

Mystery stared at her like he didn’t know what to say. Like all the fire he had burned out too fast, leaving him empty. “Too bad,” he muttered. “You’ve got it. You’re stuck.”

Baby scoffed, stepping between them, grabbing the album and slamed it.