The next few days in Riverbend passed slower than any days Ethan could remember. Morning sunlight came through the thin curtains of the guest room, falling across the wooden floor in soft strips. Lily woke early every day, always first. She would walk Chance down the gravel road past the old mailboxes and the row of maple trees that leaned over the fence. Ethan would watch her from the window sometimes, coffee in hand, not saying anything, just letting the quiet hold him.

His parents acted like they had never stopped being a team. His mother cooked breakfast as his father fixed something that didn’t really need fixing. They moved around each other in small familiar circles. It made the house feel alive again.

At breakfast Lily talked with them easily, stories about night shifts and impossible patients, about the noise of the city and the small moments that made it worth it. His mother loved every word, laughing at parts that weren’t even meant to be funny. Ethan could see her face change each morning, like she was remembering how to enjoy sound.

On the third morning, his father asked if Ethan wanted to help in the garden. “Still remember which end of a shovel goes in the dirt?” he said.

Ethan smirked. “Maybe. Depends on the dirt.”

Lily came out a few minutes later with her hair pulled up, wearing his mother’s spare gloves. “You’re not doing manual labor without supervision,” she said.

His father laughed. “Good woman. Make him earn breakfast.”

They worked under the sun until their shirts stuck to their backs and the air smelled like cut grass. Lily didn’t complain once. She hummed quietly, hands steady, eyes bright. His father watched her a few times, then nodded to himself like he had already made up his mind about her.

“You can stay as long as you want,” he said to her during a break.

She looked up from the dirt. “That an official invitation?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “We don’t get many visitors who actually work.”

She smiled. “I’ll take it.”

That night the four of them ate outside again. The sun was low, the sky pale orange. Chance chased bugs through the grass until he got tired and fell asleep near the porch steps. Ethan’s mother brought out stew and bread. It was quiet but comfortable, the kind of quiet that fills space instead of emptying it.

After dinner, Lily and Ethan walked down to the lake behind the house. The surface was smooth again, catching the reflection of the sky. They sat on the small dock, shoes off, feet hanging just above the water.

“It’s strange,” Lily said after a while. “I thought coming here would feel heavier. But it doesn’t.”

“It used to,” Ethan said. “Everything here was heavy before. I think you helped change that.”

She looked at him. “You really think I made that big of a difference?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You walked into rooms that used to scare me and somehow made them feel safe.”

Her voice dropped lower. “I didn’t do anything special.”

He smiled. “You stayed. That’s what matters.”

The wind moved across the water, lifting strands of her hair. He reached out and tucked one behind her ear. She didn’t look away this time. Their shoulders touched. The sound of frogs rose from the reeds. For a while, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she said, “What happens when we go back?”

He thought for a moment. “I guess we find out if this was a trip or something real.”

She nodded slowly. “And what do you want it to be?”

He looked at her, his voice quiet. “Real.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. “Then it will be.”

Later that night, back in the house, his mother found Lily in the kitchen making tea. She leaned against the counter, watching her. “He’s different,” his mother said softly.

Lily smiled. “Good different, I hope.”

“Alive different,” she said. “He used to move through rooms like a ghost. I didn’t know if he’d ever come back the way he left.”

“I think he just needed a reason to stop running,” Lily said.

His mother nodded. “And you gave him one.”

Lily didn’t answer. She stirred the tea and looked out the window. The lake glowed faintly under the moonlight. “He gives me one too,” she said.

That night, Ethan couldn’t sleep. He sat on the porch with Chance at his feet. The air was cool, the stars bright over the trees. He could hear the faint sound of water lapping against the shore. Lily came out in a sweatshirt, quiet steps on the wood.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated. “How something this peaceful can exist in the same world as what we see every day.”

She sat beside him. “That’s why it matters. It reminds us there’s still light somewhere.”

He looked at her. “You really believe that?”

She nodded. “I have to.”

He reached for her hand, holding it loosely. “I think I do now too.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. The night stretched out around them, full of small sounds and slow air. For the first time, he didn’t feel like the silence was waiting to take something from him. It felt like it was giving something back.

In the morning, his father found them still sitting there, half-asleep. He didn’t say anything, just smiled, patted Ethan’s shoulder, and walked back inside.

By noon, they were packing again. His mother filled a box with food, his father checked the car’s oil. Lily hugged them both, promising to visit again. His mother whispered something in her ear that made Lily’s eyes go bright.

When they finally got in the car, Ethan started the engine but didn’t drive yet. He looked back at the house. The windows reflected the sunlight. The porch swing moved slightly in the wind.

Lily reached over and touched his arm. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Better than I thought I’d be.”

She smiled. “Then let’s go.”

As they pulled away, the town of Riverbend grew smaller in the mirrors until it disappeared behind the trees. The road stretched open in front of them again, and for the first time since they left Los Angeles, it didn’t feel like an escape. It felt like a beginning.

The sky ahead was wide and bright. The hum of the tires filled the space between them. Chance settled into sleep in the back seat.

Lily looked at Ethan and said, “Where to next?”

He smiled. “Anywhere we want.”

And for once, that was true.