The air in the car was thick with unspoken words, a familiar tension that had been Hera’s constant companion for years. Her fingers traced the condensation on the window, the world outside a blur of unfamiliar trees and distant, winding roads.

“Quit sighing,” Ava’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp as always. Hera muttered a response under her breath, letting out another sigh just for spite. A glare from the rearview mirror confirmed Ava’s irritation. They were headed to a new town, a new college, another attempt at a 'normal' life that Hera knew, deep down, was a lie.

As the car pulled up to a modest blue house, an unexpected chill ran down Hera’s spine. It looked harmless, quaint even, but something about it gave her a strange, unsettling feeling. “This house gives me the creeps,” she confessed, a flicker of genuine fear in her voice.

Then, to her astonishment, Ava laughed. A real, genuine laugh, the kind Hera hadn’t heard in years. It was jarring, unsettling, a crack in the cold facade her mother usually wore. The sound echoed in the sudden silence of the car, hinting at depths Hera hadn’t seen in a long, long time.