The light that slipped through the curtains was soft and pale, dust drifting zily through it. The arm clock on the nightstand blinked 7:23 AM, but Eri hadn’t moved since she’d opened her eyes.

  Ten silvery tails y fanned out around her like a cloud, glowing faintly in the morning light. One of them twitched at the sound of her mother calling faintly from downstairs — distant, muffled through the locked door.

  “Ethan? You up?”

  The name stabbed at her like a pin.

  Her ears flicked backward, pressing ft against her hair as she curled tighter into her nest of tails. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Even breathing too loudly felt like a risk, as if sound alone might betray what she really was now — what she had become again.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs.Her heart skipped.

  “Ethan, you’ll be te!”

  She shut her eyes and pressed her forehead against the soft fur of one of her tails. The warmth of it grounded her — her warmth, her body, her truth. The very thought of putting that neckce back on made her stomach twist.

  She remembered how it felt — the weight of it, the suffocating pull, the way her skin and bones seemed to fold into someone else. Someone quieter, smaller, trapped behind his own smile. Someone who didn’t belong anywhere.

  No.She couldn’t.Not yet.

  “Ethan?” Her mother’s voice was closer now, right outside the door. The handle rattled lightly. “Honey? Are you okay in there?”

  Eri’s breath caught. Her tails instinctively wrapped tighter, forming a wall of white fur between her and the world. The faint click of the doorknob trying to turn echoed through her head.

  Locked, she reminded herself. She’d locked it st night.Safe. For now.

  She wanted to answer, to tell her mother she was fine — but her throat tightened. If she spoke, it wouldn’t sound like him. Her voice was higher, softer… hers.

  So she stayed silent.

  After a long pause, her mother sighed through the door.“Alright… maybe you’re not feeling well. Just rest, okay?”

  The footsteps faded down the hall. The house fell quiet again.

  Eri slowly lifted her head, staring at the ceiling, her long white hair spilling across the pillow. The morning light shimmered faintly across her tails.

  She could go back.She knew she should.

  School, Alex, everything waiting outside — all of it depended on Ethan showing up. Ethan pretending to be fine.

  But right now, the thought made her chest ache so much it hurt to breathe.

  “I can’t…” she whispered, barely audible even to herself.

  Her tails brushed lightly against one another, rustling like wind through leaves. The neckce glimmered faintly from where it y on the nightstand, cold and still.

  Eri turned her face away from it and pulled the bnket over her head.

  Just a little longer.Just one more morning.

  Outside, her mother called again — softer this time, almost hesitant — but Eri didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  The girl beneath the bnket simply stayed curled up in her fur and silence, clinging to the only peace she had left.

  The sun had risen higher now, painting soft gold over Eri’s white hair and tails. The room was warm, but she didn’t move from her curled-up spot on the floor. Her breathing was steady, almost peaceful — until she heard it.

  A knock.Soft at first.

  “Ethan? You’ve been quiet all morning…” her mother’s voice came through the door again, tinged with worry. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  Eri froze.Her ears perked, twitching toward the sound, then fttened hard against her head.

  She swallowed, heart pounding so loud it hurt. She wanted to say something — anything — to make her mom go away. But what could she say? Her voice wasn’t Ethan’s. It hadn’t been for a while.

  “I’m just… tired,” she whispered under her breath, but the words never made it past the door.

  The knob rattled.

  “Ethan?” her mom tried again. “Can you open the door for me, please?”

  Eri’s tail flicked in panic. She scrambled up from the floor, nearly tripping over one of her tails as she gnced around the room for something — anything — to buy her time.

  The neckce y on her nightstand, glinting in the sunlight.She couldn’t.She couldn’t.

  “Ethan, I’m getting worried. You didn’t eat, and you haven’t answered once. Please, open the door.”

  Her mom’s voice cracked slightly this time, gentle but frightened. Eri could hear the soft metallic sound of keys being handled outside the door.

  She’s going to try to unlock it.

  Eri’s blood ran cold.

  Her tails bristled, fur puffing slightly as panic surged through her. She stumbled backward, bumping into her desk and nearly knocking over a stack of books.

  “No, no, no—” she breathed, eyes darting between the door and the neckce.

  The sound of a key scraping against the lock hit her ears like thunder.

  “Ethan?”

  Her pulse spiked. Her hands trembled. She couldn’t let her mom see her — not like this. Not with ears twitching, tails visible, her very existence an impossible truth.

  “Just a minute!” she shouted suddenly — too suddenly. Her voice rang out, soft and feminine.

  Her eyes widened in horror.

  That wasn’t Ethan’s voice.

  The sound of the key paused. Silence followed. The kind of silence that told her mom had definitely noticed.

  “Ethan?”

  Her mom’s voice was uncertain now — confused, maybe even a little scared.

  Eri’s throat closed. She turned toward the nightstand, hand shaking as she reached for the neckce. Her reflection in the dark gss of the TV looked back at her — her face, not his. Her white hair and fox ears stood out starkly.

  Her hand hovered over the neckce, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

  The sound of the key moving again jolted her.

  She’s unlocking it.

  Eri’s heart crashed against her ribs as she grabbed the neckce and clutched it tightly in her palm. Her eyes darted to the window. The lock clicked.

  The door began to creak open.

  Eri panicked. Her tails shed behind her as she backed away, clutching the neckce like it was a lifeline and whispering under her breath—

  “Please… not yet.”

  The door cracked open halfway. Her mom stood in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of motion — white hair, a blur of tails, and her child standing frozen in the middle of the room.

  For a split second, the two just stared at each other.

  Eri’s breath caught.

  Then—

  She shoved the neckce over her head.

  The room filled with light.