Meri almost missed it.
The voices drifted through the half-open door in broken pieces.
A sentence here.
A name there.
Nothing that made sense on its own.
Over the past few days, she had learned something important about the Lutheral estate.
The house was full of conversations children weren't supposed to hear.
Conversations that stopped when she entered a room.
Conversations carried out in lowered voices behind closed doors.
Conversations filled with names she didn't recognize and secrets nobody bothered explaining.
So she had learned to listen.
Quietly.
Carefully.
The way children do when they realize adults reveal more than they intend.
She was walking down the hallway when she heard it.
"Are you going?"
The voice belonged to Nanny Zima.
Another woman answered.
"I have to."
A pause.
Then:
"The Gabriel family invited everyone."
Meri slowed her steps.
Gabriel.
She didn't know that name.
It meant nothing to her.
Yet something about the way they said it made her stop.
Adults only used that tone when discussing things that mattered.
Things connected to old wounds.
Old stories.
Old mistakes.
She moved closer.
Carefully.
Pressing herself against the wall beside the doorway.
The voices became clearer.
"I don't want to see them."
That was Zima.
The sharpness in her voice surprised Meri.
Nanny Zima was usually gentle.
Patient.
Warm.
But now there was something else underneath her words.
Something harder.
"You can't avoid them forever."
The second woman sounded tired.
Zima laughed.
A short, humorless laugh.
"Watch me."
Silence followed.
The kind of silence that carries years inside it.
Then the other woman spoke again.
"You know this isn't really about the Gabriels."
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
Meri couldn't explain why.
But something inside her knew the conversation was changing.
Becoming important.
The second woman sighed.
"You still blame Regina."
Everything inside Meri froze.
Regina.
Her mommy.
Her fingernails dug into the wall.
Suddenly, every other sound disappeared.
The women continued talking.
But Meri only caught fragments.
Words floating past like leaves in a river.
Hospital.
Accident.
Coma.
Years ago.
The pieces refused to fit together.
But one thing became painfully clear.
They were talking about her mother.
"I lost my baby."
Zima's voice cracked unexpectedly.
Meri blinked.
She had never heard Nanny Zima sound like that before.
Never heard grief hiding inside her voice.
"I know," the other woman said quietly.
"You don't know."
The words came out sharp.
Broken.
Like something old had suddenly reopened.
Meri didn't understand most of what they were discussing.
She was only six.
The history between adults often felt like a language she hadn't learned yet.
But she understood one thing.
Her mother's name kept appearing.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Then she heard the sentence that changed everything.
"We're going to see her."
Meri stopped breathing.
The women continued talking.
Neither noticed the little girl listening outside the door.
"The doctors aren't hopeful."
A pause.
"Neither is the family."
More silence.
Then:
"Still, we should visit."
Meri's heart slammed against her ribs.
Visit who?
She already knew the answer.
She felt it.
Deep down.
In that place where certainty lives before logic catches up.
Her mommy.
They were talking about her mommy.
Not a memory.
Not the past.
The present.
Now.
Today.
The women moved farther into the room.
Their voices became harder to hear.
But it didn't matter anymore.
Meri had already learned everything she needed.
They were going somewhere.
Somewhere connected to Regina.
Somewhere her mother was.
Her pulse raced.
A hundred thoughts collided inside her head.
Questions.
Fear.
Hope.
All tangled together.
She should tell Jonas.
Or King.
Or somebody.
That would be the sensible thing.
The safe thing.
The adult thing.
But Meri wasn't thinking like an adult.
She was thinking like a little girl who hadn't seen her mother in weeks.
A little girl who still woke up every morning hoping someone would finally tell her where Regina was.
A little girl who had spent too many nights missing the sound of her mother's voice.
She backed away from the door.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Her mind already racing ahead.
Following possibilities.
Following hope.
Following the single thought that suddenly drowned out every other thought in the world.
Mommy.
They were going somewhere her mommy was.
That was all she needed to know.
She didn't have a plan.
She didn't know where they were going.
She didn't know what would happen when she got there.
But for the first time since losing her mother, she had a direction.
Meri didn't spend very long thinking about her decision.
If she had, she probably wouldn't have done it.
Thinking led to fear.
Thinking led to all the reasons it was a bad idea.
Thinking reminded her she was six years old, couldn't speak, and had no idea where she was going.
So she didn't think.
She acted.
Because every second she spent standing still felt like another second farther away from her mother.
---
The black car was waiting in the driveway.
The driver was busy loading bags into the back seat.
Several people moved in and out of the house carrying things.
Nobody paid attention to Meri.
Children had a strange kind of invisibility.
Adults noticed them when they made noise.
When they caused problems.
When they needed something.
The rest of the time, they blended into the background.
---
Meri waited.
Patiently.
Watching.
The moment the driver disappeared back inside the house, she ran.
Not toward the doors.
Toward the back of the car.
The trunk stood slightly open.
Just enough.
---
Her heart pounded.
This was a terrible idea.
She knew it.
Every part of her knew it.
But every part of her also knew she couldn't stay behind.
Not when her mother might be waiting somewhere on the other end of this journey.
---
She climbed inside.
The space was cramped.
Smaller than she'd expected.
She curled herself into a ball between several bags and pulled her knees against her chest.
A moment later, the trunk slammed shut.
Darkness swallowed her instantly.
---
For a second, panic hit.
Hard.
The darkness felt alive.
Heavy.
Pressing against her from every direction.
She couldn't see her hands.
Couldn't see her feet.
Couldn't even tell if her eyes were open.
---
Her breathing sped up.
Too fast.
Too loud.
The air suddenly felt thin.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Even though it made no difference.
Then she remembered something.
Something her mommy used to do.
---
Whenever Regina was anxious, she breathed slowly.
In through her nose.
Hold.
Out through her mouth.
Again.
And again.
Until her hands stopped shaking.
---
Meri tried it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Gradually, the panic loosened its grip.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Enough to keep going.
---
She placed a hand over her chest.
Feeling the rapid beat of her heart beneath her palm.
Then, silently, she repeated the words she couldn't say aloud.
I'm coming, Mommy.
The thought gave her strength.
She held onto it tightly.
Like a rope.
Like a promise.
---
The engine started.
The car moved.
And suddenly there was no turning back.
---
The journey felt endless.
Every bump in the road traveled through the floor of the trunk.
Every turn shifted the bags around her.
She couldn't see anything.
Couldn't tell where they were.
Couldn't tell how much time had passed.
The darkness made everything feel longer.
---
When the fear became too big, she counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Anything to stop herself imagining worst-case scenarios.
---
She thought about Regina.
About the song.
About the way her mother always blew on hot soup before giving it to her.
About the nights they'd fallen asleep together on the old sofa because neither of them wanted to admit they were lonely.
Those memories became her anchor.
The thing she held onto when the darkness felt too large.
---
At some point, she remembered the hospital.
The red light above the emergency room.
The plastic chair.
The three nights she spent waiting.
The empty apartment afterward.
The untouched birthday cupcakes.
A lump formed in her throat.
---
Not again.
The words echoed inside her mind.
I won't lose her again.
Not if she could help it.
Not this time.
---
Eventually, the car slowed.
Then stopped.
Voices drifted in from outside.
Doors opening.
People talking.
Footsteps moving across gravel.
The world had returned.
---
Meri waited.
Counted slowly to thirty.
Then pushed gently against the trunk.
A thin line of light appeared.
She blinked hard.
After so much darkness, even a little sunlight felt blinding.
---
Carefully, she climbed out.
And immediately froze.
The estate in front of her was enormous.
Bigger than anything she'd ever imagined.
Tall buildings.
Beautiful gardens.
Perfect stone pathways.
Everything looked expensive.
Important.
Untouchable.
---
When she first arrived at the Lutheral estate, she had stared in wonder.
Not this time.
This time, she barely looked.
Because none of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered was finding her mother.
---
Then she heard it.
A low growl.
Close.
Very close.
Meri turned slowly.
And immediately regretted it.
---
A dog stood only a few feet away.
Huge.
Much larger than the one at the Lutheral estate.
Its body was rigid.
Its eyes locked onto her.
Its growl vibrated through the air.
---
Fear exploded through her.
A scream rose inside her throat.
And slammed directly into the wall of silence that still trapped her voice.
Nothing came out.
Not a sound.
---
Tears instantly filled her eyes.
Her hands trembled.
Her entire body trembled.
She looked around desperately.
Searching for anything.
Anything at all.
---
Then she spotted it.
A thin stick lying on the ground.
Meri grabbed it.
Held it in front of herself with both hands.
The way she'd seen heroes do in movies.
Even though she knew it probably wouldn't help.
---
The dog stared.
She stared back.
Neither moved.
Seconds passed.
Then more seconds.
Long enough for her arms to start shaking.
Long enough for her heart to feel like it might explode.
---
Then, unexpectedly, the dog lost interest.
It turned.
Stretched lazily.
And walked away.
Just like that.
As though she'd never existed.
---
Meri didn't stop to question her luck.
She didn't wait for the dog to change its mind.
The moment it disappeared around a corner, she ran.
Because somewhere inside this enormous estate, her mommy was waiting.
And she wasn't losing her again.