ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴍɪɢʜᴛʏ | ᴍɪᴋᴀᴇʟsᴏɴs

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟸

A Note to My Readers

Your thoughts are everything to me! If you're enjoying the twists, turns, and tender moments woven into this story, please take a moment to share your thoughts or leave comments/votes. It's the most meaningful way to let me know you're connecting with the story, and it fuels my inspiration to keep writing. Hearing from you-whether it's a favorite line, a heartfelt reaction, or a prediction-truly breathes life into this creative journey. Thank you so much for your support. I can't wait to hear what you think!

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"Crossing the Threshold."

Alura felt a wave of relief wash over her as Sheila's car rolled to a stop in the Bennett residence driveway. Her limbs ached, her chest felt tight from hours of stale airplane air, and the thought of finally sinking into a bed was the only thing keeping her upright. She dragged herself out of the car, while Sheila retrieved her carry-on from the trunk.

The cool night air prickled Alura's skin as she approached the front door. Her fingers barely brushed the doorknob when, to her shock, it swung open with a soft creak.

Her breath hitched, and she instinctively clutched her chest. "How...?" she whispered, her voice trembling with confusion. She glanced over her shoulder at Sheila, who was now standing beside her, one eyebrow arched in amused approval.

"Well, look at that," Sheila said, her tone light but edged with intrigue. "Impressive."

Alura's brows knit together as she shook her head. "I didn't do anything," she insisted, her voice tinged with frustration and disbelief. She stared at the open door as though it might offer an explanation. "Did I?"

Sheila's knowing smile deepened, a flicker of pride lighting her expression. "You did," the older woman said, her voice calm and certain. "You just don't realize it yet."

Alura blinked, her chest tightening-not from her asthma this time, but from the unsettling weight of Sheila's words. Subconscious or not, something had happened. And now, as she crossed the threshold, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had stepped into a new world-one where even the smallest touch could change everything. Alura stepped into the Bennett residence, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. The house was modest yet radiated warmth, with every corner seemingly infused with memories. The living room walls and shelves were adorned with an array of family photographs, each frame a snapshot of moments frozen in time. One picture caught her attention-a young woman around her age, arms wrapped around another girl who appeared slightly older.

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the frame as she studied the faces.

"My daughters," a voice spoke softly behind her.

Alura turned to see Sheila Bennett, her expression tender as she joined her side, gazing at the same photograph.

"What are their names?" Alura asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

"Abigail and Peyton," Sheila replied with a small, bittersweet smile. "Abby's the older one-by two years. That was taken when they were eighteen and twenty."

Alura's eyes lingered on the younger girl, Peyton, her expression subtly shifting into something unreadable. "Her name's Peyton?"

Sheila nodded.

"Huh," Alura murmured, almost to herself, the words quiet but deliberate. "That's my name... Well, my middle name."