Chapter 40: Night Talks

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Night Talks

Iris had spent the past few days in Spokane, and for the most part, they had been surprisingly peaceful... almost suspiciously peaceful.

Her mother had not once asked about Jason. That, more than anything else, had made Iris wonder whether Sophia somehow already knew. It was unlike her mother to notice something was wrong and simply leave it alone.

Sophia had always possessed an uncanny ability to read Iris, sometimes knowing that something was bothering her before Iris had even admitted it to herself.

When Iris was twelve and had come home from school pretending that everything was fine after an argument with a friend, her mother had taken one look at her face and quietly placed a mug of hot chocolate beside her before asking, "Who upset you?"

She had always been like that. So Iris had expected the questions, but they never came.

Perhaps Sophia had decided that some things needed to be given time. Perhaps she had seen the way Iris avoided looking at her whenever Jason’s name came up and understood that pushing her would only make her retreat further. Whatever the reason, Iris was grateful. She had needed the space.

The days in Spokane had also given her something she had not realized she desperately needed: time with her father.

Daniel had been given the entire week off work because of his unexpected promotion, and for once, there was no laptop constantly open beside him, no phone ringing every few minutes, and no urgent reports demanding his attention.

He and Iris had taken full advantage of it. They had gone out for lunch one afternoon, argued playfully over which movie to watch another evening, and spent an entire morning driving around town while Daniel told her stories about his younger years that Iris had heard at least three times before but still enjoyed listening to.

They had even given their outings a ridiculous name: Father-daughter quality time. Daniel had insisted that it sounded official, but Iris had told him it sounded like the title of a family television show. He had laughed so hard that he nearly spilled his coffee.

Her mother still went to the hospital during the day, but every evening, the three of them sat together for dinner, and Iris found herself appreciating those ordinary moments more than she ever had before.

Now, however, only two days remained before she would have to return to Seattle. Her final semester at Emerald Heights University was waiting for her. And with it came internships, assignments, graduation preparations, and an entirely new problem she had not known existed a week ago... how the strange wolf mark on her neck appeared.

Iris shifted against the cushioned window seat in her bedroom and pulled the blanket more securely around her legs.

Outside, Spokane had settled into the quiet rhythm of night. The streets below were dotted with headlights, while the occasional car passed beneath the streetlights. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once before silence swallowed the sound.

She lifted her mug and took a careful sip of her hot chocolate. Her phone lay beside her. She had called Zoey several times since arriving. Every time, their conversation eventually found its way toward the same subject... The mark. And every time, Zoey became strangely evasive.

Iris narrowed her eyes at the phone. She had known Zoey for long enough to recognize when her friend was hiding something. And Zoey was definitely hiding something.

The last time they spoke, Iris had finally cornered her, asking her, "What did you find?"

Zoey had been silent for several seconds. Then she had said, "I’d rather tell you when you’re back."

Iris had immediately asked why. Zoey had simply replied that there were some things they needed to discuss in person.

That answer had done absolutely nothing to calm Iris. If anything, it had made her imagination run wild. She sighed and rested her head against the wall.

"What did you find, Zoey?" she murmured to herself. Her fingers instinctively rose to the mark on her neck.

The moment they brushed against it, the same strange sensation stirred beneath her skin. Iris quickly pulled her hand away; she now hated that. She hated not understanding what was happening to her.

The visions had continued. Not every hour, not even every day, but often enough that she had begun to dread falling asleep and dreaming of the same snowy mountain, the same endless white landscape. And sometimes... the wolf... or rather... the Lycan.

She still didn’t know whether it was a dream, a memory, or something else entirely. But every time she saw it, the feeling was the same. Pain, loneliness. And a strange sense of familiarity that she could never explain.

Iris took another sip of chocolate and stared through the window. "I really hope you’re not planning to ruin my life," she whispered to the mark.

A soft knock sounded at her door. Iris turned. "Come in."

Sophia’s knock had been gentle, almost tentative, a stark contrast to her usual boisterous certainty. The door opened, revealing her mother carrying a large bowl of freshly made popcorn.

"Hi, honey. Are you still awake?" Her mother’s voice, a soft murmur from the doorway, made Iris straighten slightly, a small, almost imperceptible tilt of her head.

Iris smiled. "Of course, Mom. Come in."

Sophia stepped inside and held up the bowl. "I made popcorn. Your father has already eaten half of it downstairs, so I’m rescuing what’s left before he decides the bowl belongs to him."

Iris laughed softly. "That sounds exactly like Dad."

"He claims he’s helping me by reducing the amount of food I have to carry upstairs."

"Of course he does."

Sophia placed the bowl on the bed and sat down beside her daughter. Iris picked up a handful, smiling when she realized it was still warm. "Thank you, Mom."

The warmth from the popcorn was a welcome contrast to the coolness of the night air seeping through the windowpane. She shifted from her perch, easing herself onto the bed beside her mother, the quiet creak of the springs the only sound for a moment.

"You are welcome." Sophia sighed, a soft, almost imperceptible sound that was more a release of held breath than one of weariness. She ran a hand over Iris’s hair, a gesture so ingrained it was like breathing.

"After tomorrow, you’ll be heading back to Seattle for your new semester. You haven’t even left yet, and I’m already feeling that ache of missing you." Her voice was soft, laced with a familiar maternal fondness that Iris found both comforting and, at this moment, a little guilt-inducing.

"Oh, Mom, don’t worry about it," Iris murmured, leaning into the embrace her mother offered. The hug was firm and reassuring.

"I’ll visit, truly. You’ll see me again soon. I’ll come home more often from now on."

"You said that last time." Sophia offered a small, knowing smile.

"Mom, i know I couldn’t during the long holiday, with the part-time jobs and... and trying to get everything ready for the anniversary with Jason."

The words "Jason" and "anniversary" hung in the air, like a sudden discordant notes in the quiet harmony of the room.

Iris felt a familiar tightening in her chest, a faint tremor in her hands. She pulled back slightly, her gaze drifting towards the window again, though she saw nothing but the reflection of her own unease.

Sophia noticed immediately. Her hand, which had been stroking Iris’s arm, stilled and she didn’t say anything. She just reached over and took a piece of popcorn from the bowl, her eyes lingering on Iris’s face.

Iris lowered her gaze, picking at the popcorn. Sophia waited, the only sound the quiet rustle of the blanket. Then, quietly, she asked, "Are you ready to talk about it now and tell me what happened?" she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

Iris’s fingers stopped halfway toward the bowl. Her mother continued gently, her voice a low, comforting murmur.

"I didn’t ask you when you first arrived a few days ago, because I could see that you weren’t quite ready, and I truly wanted to respect that. Every time I almost brought up your anniversary, you found a reason to change the subject.

So I decided that if you wanted to tell me, you would." Sophia reached over, her hand brushing Iris’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Her touch was light, a silent reassurance.

"But you’ve been here for several days now, and I think you’ve had enough time to breathe. And now... now you’re almost leaving, and I can see it’s still weighing so heavily on your heart. So..."

She gave her daughter a small, encouraging smile, her eyes warm and steady, sought Iris’s, a silent invitation to confide. "What happened, honey?"

Iris swallowed, a dry, almost painful swallow.

"It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, Mom," she began, her voice a low, hesitant murmur. "It’s just... so much happened, and honestly, I just wanted to forget it, to push it all away." She picked at a loose thread on the quilt, her fingers restless.

Iris stared at the popcorn in her lap, rearranging a few pieces with her thumb. "I want to tell, but I have to warn you, It’s a long story."

Sophia leaned back slightly, settling more comfortably against the headboard. A subtle shift in her posture, communicating patience. "I have nowhere else to be."

That made Iris smile faintly, a fleeting upward curve of her lips. "You’re not going to interrupt me?"

Sophia’s mouth twitched at the corner. "I might."

"Mom." Iris rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"I’m your mother," Sophia declared, a hint of playful defiance in her tone. "I reserve the right to interrupt occasionally. It’s in the mother’s handbook, page twelve, subsection three."

Iris laughed under her breath, a genuine, if soft, sound that eased some of the tension from her shoulders. She then slowly leaned back against the headboard, a cushion of pillows offering a false sense of security, taking a deep breath that expanded her chest before exhaling slowly. "Okay."