Chapter thirty-one
Lindsay
The house feels hollow. Like someone scraped out everything warm and left the structure standing.
I've been avoiding Arthur since he stopped answering me. Since the absence itself began to feel like a decision. It's easier to stay in my room, working on my costume, pretending the silence stretching between us doesn't matter.
It's Saturday, so Henry is home from school. I hear him downstairs, his voice carrying up through the quiet house. Arthur is locked in his office, buried in work as usual. The perfect excuse to maintain our careful distance.
I finally venture downstairs, drawn by hunger more than bravery. Henry sits at the kitchen counter, a half-eaten bowl of cereal pushed aside, tablet propped in front of him. His face lights up when he sees me.
"Lindsay! Look at this!" He turns the screen so I can see. "CAMICon is debuting New Age of Legends concept art for the next expansion!"
He scrolls through the convention website, pointing out panels and events with unguarded excitement. "They're doing a limited merch drop—only five hundred pieces—and there's this artist who makes custom character figurines that light up."
I lean against the counter, listening as he jumps from topic to topic. His enthusiasm is contagious.
"Jenny says she's going" he adds, trying for casual and missing by a mile. "She's dressing up as one of the characters. Not in a babyish way, in a cool way."
"Of course," I nod solemnly.
"I told her I might be there too." He stares at the screen, pretending this isn't important to him. "But Dad's busy, and the driver needs to know ahead of time, and there's probably security stuff..."
His voice trails off, resignation settling in his shoulders.
He's used to this—planning around logistics, around what's practical, around all the reasons fun things get cancelled.
"Do you want to go?" I ask before I can overthink it.
Henry's head snaps up. His entire face transforms. "Really?"
"Today," I add, doubling down on my impulse. "Right now."
Henry's excitement is immediate and electric. "Can I get a poster? And maybe check out the demo booths?"
"Absolutely." I feel reckless in the best way. "Go get your stuff. I'll leave a note."
Henry bolts upstairs.
This is harmless. Normal. I'm allowed to do something nice without asking permission.
Without feeling like I need a hall pass to exist in my own life.
I quickly buy two tickets and get them printing.
I grab my sparkly bag—the one that makes me feel like myself, the one that catches light and attention. I don't try to dress up beyond that. This trip is more escape than plan.
I grab our tickets as Henry bounces back downstairs with his hoodie and a backpack. His grin is wide and uncomplicated. "Should we tell Dad?"
I'm already heading for the door. "He's working. We shouldn't disturb him."
We slip out before I can rethink it. Before someone appears to tell me this isn't protocol.
I bypass the waiting car service and head straight for my old sedan. I haven't looked at it since Steve had it moved to the garage when I moved in.
It feels like reuniting with an old friend—slightly worn, definitely not luxury, but mine.
"We're taking this?" Henry asks, not disapproving, just surprised.
