The melody still danced in the back of her mind. Like a tune from a dream, impossible to hum once fully awake.

She rose, stretched her arms, and padded barefoot across the room to the small window. The world outside was still wrapped in fog — the kind that made everything feel a little softer, a little farther away. Even the rooftops of their neighbors seemed like memories instead of real places.

She thought about making coffee, but she didn’t want the spell of the morning to break just yet.

Instead, she stood there and listened.

And then… she heard it again.

But this time, it wasn’t inside her head.

It was coming from the hallway. Soft. Fragile. Notes like water droplets.

A child’s voice.

Singing.

Mira froze.

No one else was awake in the house. Her grandmother was still in the province. Her aunt had gone to work the day before and wouldn’t be back for days. And her cousin — Solana’s favorite rival and partner in chaos — wasn’t here today.

But someone was singing.

A song she’d never heard… yet knew by heart.

She turned toward the door, her pulse quickening. Behind her, Solana stirred in her sleep and let out a tiny breath, as if to say, Go on, Mama.

Mira opened the door and stepped into the quiet hallway.

The singing stopped.

⸻