Astralyth Online

Chapter 73 – Sarah’s Family

Sarah sighed as she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. The house was quiet—too quiet. It always was. No warmth, no laughter, just the sound of a ticking clock and the faint rustle of paper as her mother flipped a page in whatever book she was reading.

She stood in the entryway for a moment, shifting her bag on her shoulder, waiting to see if her mother would say anything. Maybe this time…

But nothing.

Her mother didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. She just kept reading, her posture relaxed, as if Sarah weren’t even there.

Sarah swallowed down the disappointment—she was used to this. It didn’t make it hurt any less, but at least she knew what to expect. She glanced toward the hallway leading to her father’s office. The door was closed, as always. And she knew better than to disturb him.

She exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to move. She stepped into the living room, lingering by the doorway. “I’m home,” she said, her voice even. No point in sounding expectant.

Her mother hummed a vague acknowledgment, still not looking up. “Hmm.”

That was it. No How was your day? No Where have you been? Nothing.

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek. She could have been gone for a week, a month, and she doubted they would have noticed.

She clenched her fists at her sides before forcing herself to relax. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. I don’t care.

Sarah placed her bag down by the door, rubbing her shoulder absentmindedly before making her way toward the kitchen. The house was massive—too big for just three people. High ceilings, marble floors, sleek modern furniture. It was the kind of house that should have felt grand, warm, lived in. But instead, it felt cold, like a museum no one actually wanted to visit.

Her footsteps barely made a sound as she moved through the pristine kitchen, everything perfectly in place as if no one actually used it. Because no one really did. The housekeeper kept everything spotless, and her parents rarely cooked. They had expensive appliances and an enormous dining table they barely ever sat at together.

Sarah knew the routine, though. She put a kettle on the stove, waiting for the water to heat for tea. It was something she had done for years, an unspoken expectation. Her mother called it mother-daughter time, but Sarah knew better. It wasn’t about bonding—it was about appearances.

Her mother didn’t care about her school day, her interests, or her life. But having tea together for a few minutes every evening made it seem like she did. If anyone ever asked, her mother could say, Oh, Sarah and I always have tea together every day, as if that meant something.

Sarah leaned against the counter, arms crossed as she watched the water begin to simmer. She didn’t know why she still went along with it. Maybe because not doing it would be worse. Maybe because she wanted to hold on to the idea that, even if it was just an illusion, it was still something.

The whistle of the kettle broke the silence. Sarah sighed, grabbing two cups from the cabinet and setting them down on the polished counter. One for her. One for her mother.

Just like always.

Sarah placed the tea in front of her mother, who finally—finally—closed her book and set it aside. Without a word, she lifted the cup, taking a careful sip before offering Sarah a small nod of acknowledgment.

Sarah sat down in the other chair, mirroring the motion out of habit. The silence stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable before her mother finally spoke.

“How were your results this week?” she asked, her voice polite but distant.

Sarah shrugged, blowing on her tea before taking a sip. “Fine,” she said vaguely.

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

Sarah resisted the urge to sigh. She knew exactly where this was going. “I did well,” she clarified, though she didn’t offer specifics. Her grades were good—as they always were—but she knew her mother wasn’t really asking out of concern. It was just part of the routine.

Her mother nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Keep it that way.”

That was it. No follow-up questions. No interest beyond whether Sarah was maintaining the standards expected of her. The conversation stalled, falling back into silence as they both sipped their tea. Sarah knew it would go on like this for a few more minutes before her mother dismissed her. It was predictable, structured, and completely devoid of any real warmth.

She needed something to put her mind at ease—something that wasn’t this.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she quickly typed out a message.

Sarah: Maddyyyyy, I miss you already. It’s SO boring without you. I might actually have to do my homework just to entertain myself. That’s how bad it is.

She hesitated for a second, then smirked to herself before adding another message.

Sarah: Also, I’ll probably sleep really bad tonight without my cute girlfriend next to me… in her human OR fox form.

She hit send before she could overthink it, already imagining Madelyn’s flustered reaction.

Sarah smiled to herself, just a little.

Her mother’s eyes lingered on her for just a second too long, her expression unreadable. “Something funny?” she asked, her tone casual—but Sarah knew better.

Sarah looked up quickly, slipping her phone to the side of the chair in an attempt to act natural. “Nothing,” she said, keeping her voice even.

But she had made a mistake.

Her mother’s gaze sharpened, a subtle shift in her posture that Sarah recognized all too well. It was that calculating look, the one that meant she had noticed something—something she wouldn’t forget.

“You seem… distracted,” her mother said, tilting her head slightly.

Sarah shrugged, taking another sip of her tea in an attempt to appear indifferent. “Long day,” she replied simply.

Her mother hummed softly, still watching her. “I see.” A pause. Then, as if it were nothing, she added, “You’ve been spending quite a bit of time at the Roths’ house lately.”

Sarah’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “Yeah. It’s nice there.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin smile. “I’m sure it is.” She didn’t elaborate, didn’t question further, but Sarah could tell she was making a note of it.

Her mother never asked about her personal life—not directly. But she always had a way of letting Sarah know she was paying attention. And Sarah hated that it made her feel uneasy, like she did something wrong.

“Anyway,” her mother said, setting her now-empty cup down on the table. “I have some calls to make.”

Sarah recognized the dismissal immediately. She gave a small nod, standing up. “Thanks for the tea,” she said out of habit.

She quickly made her way upstairs, grabbing her bag on the way. As soon as she entered her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling sharply.

Man, that was stressful.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the lingering unease from her mother’s words. It wasn’t like her mother had said anything explicitly bad, but Sarah knew how she worked—how she stored little details away, ready to use them when it suited her.

Shaking her head, she reached for her phone, eager to see if Madelyn had responded.

Her fingers met an empty pocket.

Sarah froze.

She turned, patting down her pockets, then rummaged through her bag, her pulse picking up speed.

No phone.

Oh no.

Her eyes widened as realization sank in. She had left it in the living room.

Oh no, no, no.

Her mother was still down there. What if she saw a notification pop up? What if she decided to check? Sarah didn’t think her mom would outright snoop—she was more the ‘make subtle comments until you slip up’ type—but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t glance at the screen.

And if she saw the messages between her and Madelyn…

Sarah felt her stomach twist.

She needed to get her phone back. Now.

Forcing herself to stay calm, she opened her door as quietly as possible and started down the stairs, careful to make her footsteps light. The living room was just ahead—if she was lucky, her mother had already gone to make her calls, leaving her phone untouched.

She peered around the corner.

Her stomach dropped.

Her mother was holding

Sarah felt a cold chill crawl down her spine as she stood frozen at the edge of the living room, her breath caught in her throat. Kira’s expression was unreadable at first, her sharp eyes scanning the screen. But the longer Sarah stood there, the clearer the look of disappointment became.

Not anger. Not outright fury.

Just that look.

That cold, piercing, I expected better from you look.

Sarah swallowed hard, but her throat was dry. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what exactly her mother had seen—what she had read. Had she only seen the notifications? Or had she opened the messages?

Sarah took a careful step forward, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. “Mom,” she said, her fingers twitching at her sides, “that’s my phone.”

Kira didn’t say anything at first. She simply turned the phone in her hand, tapping a single finger against the screen as if she were deep in thought.

Then, without a word, she placed it down on the table in front of her and folded her hands in her lap.

Sarah's stomach twisted as her mother motioned for her to sit back down. Every instinct in her screamed to grab her phone and run, but she forced herself to move stiffly toward the chair, lowering herself into it with careful precision.

Her heart pounded, every beat echoing in her ears.

Did her mom read the messages? Did Madelyn reply? Had she seen everything?

But then—the color drained from Sarah's face.

The messages didn’t even matter.

Her background.

Her mother didn’t need to read a single message when the lock screen said everything.

A picture—her and Madelyn on the couch.

Sarah had taken it without thinking, just a quick selfie where Madelyn had looked extra cute, curled up beside her, her tail tucked against Sarah’s leg. She had been smiling, looking at Sarah like she was the only person in the world.

Sarah had set it as her background a couple days ago.

And now, her mom had seen it.

A heavy silence settled between them. Kira’s expression was unreadable, but that was what made it worse. Sarah would have preferred anger. Anger, she could handle. But this? This was something else. Calculation. Disappointment.

“Sarah,” her mother finally spoke, her voice controlled. “Do you have something to tell me?”

Sarah’s fingers curled into fists in her lap. Her breathing felt too shallow.

There it was—the open door.

If she wanted to tell the truth, she could.

But she knew how this would go. She knew the look her mother would give her, the way she’d make her feel small. How she would twist this into something wrong.

Sarah took a slow breath, steadying herself. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She reminded herself of that fact, over and over, but sitting in this house, under her mother’s cold scrutiny, it was hard to make herself believe it.

Everything here—the walls, the air, the silence—it made her feel small.

She clenched her fists tighter, pressing her nails into her palms to ground herself.

No. I won’t let her get to me.

She forced her voice to stay even. “No,” she said. “There is nothing I want to tell you.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really, now?” She turned the phone in her hands, her expression neutral but sharp. “Then care to explain who this is?”

Sarah’s stomach twisted. Here we go.

Kira lifted the phone slightly, and there it was—the lock screen.

Sarah swallowed hard. How could I have been so stupid? She should have changed it before coming home. She should have been more careful.

“That’s my friend,” Sarah said, keeping her voice steady.

Kira’s lips pressed into a thin, knowing smile. “You seem pretty close to her,” she said, tapping a finger against the screen. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning her before. And why, exactly, is she wearing fox ears and a tail?”

Sarah’s mind raced. What do I say? How much does she know? How much can I hide?

She had two choices—tell the truth, or give her mother just enough to satisfy her without opening the door too wide.

She chose the latter.

“She’s a cosplayer,” Sarah lied smoothly. “It’s part of a costume for a game we play together.”

Kira’s sharp gaze lingered on her, searching, weighing. “A game,” she repeated slowly.

Sarah nodded, forcing a casual shrug. “Yeah. She’s into fantasy stuff. It’s just her thing.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Kira’s gaze didn’t waver, her expression unreadable. "I see... What is her name?"

Sarah forced herself to stay calm. "Uh, Madelyn."

"Last name?" Her mother’s tone was light, but Sarah wasn’t fooled. This was a test.

She hesitated for the briefest second before answering, "Roth."

Kira’s eyebrow arched slightly. "Roth. As in the Roths? The ones you’ve been staying with?"

Sarah’s stomach twisted. This was bad. Really bad. "Yeah," she admitted. "She’s—uh—Benjamin’s twin sister."

For a long moment, her mother didn’t say anything. The air between them felt heavy, like a predator waiting to strike. Sarah struggled to keep her breathing even.

Finally, Kira let out a slow, deliberate hum. "I didn’t know he had a sister."

Sarah swallowed hard. "She—uh—wasn’t around before."

Kira’s lips pursed ever so slightly, and for a brief second, Sarah thought she might press the issue. But instead, she leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "At least her family is respectable," she murmured. "I suppose that’s something."

Sarah clenched her fists beneath the table, but she forced her expression to remain neutral.

Then, her mother’s next words made her blood run cold.

"I would like you to invite this Madelyn over," Kira said smoothly. "So I can judge her for myself."

Sarah’s throat went dry. "What?"

"Tomorrow would be a good time," Kira continued, as if Sarah hadn’t spoken. "Have her come over in the afternoon."

Panic surged through Sarah, but she kept her voice even. "I don’t think she—"

"Tomorrow, Sarah," her mother interrupted, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "That’s not a request."

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek, her heart pounding. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to Madelyn—if she was even going to tell her.

Kira glanced at the phone still in her hands and tapped a single finger against the screen. "And until then," she said casually, "I’ll be holding onto this."

Sarah stiffened. "Why?"

"Because I’ve noticed you’ve been very distracted lately," Kira said smoothly. "And I think you need a little… break."

Sarah’s hands curled into fists, but she knew better than to argue.

Her phone—her connection to Madelyn, her only real comfort—was gone. And tomorrow, she’d be forced to bring the person she cared about most into the lion’s den.