Chapter 33: The Doubt Between Us

My hand hovered over the bannister, my gaze darting between the staircase leading up to Gabriel and the front door that separated me from the night.

Wake him? Tell him?

My throat tightened at the memory of his face earlier—suspicion carved into every line, his voice hard as steel when he’d demanded proof. Proof I didn’t have. Proof Emily had manufactured.

If I shook him awake now with nothing but cryptic texts and my paranoia about shadows, what would he see? A wife unravelling? A liability?

My chest constricted. No. I couldn’t risk it. Not when Emily was already poisoning the air between them.

The phone buzzed again, as if mocking my hesitation.

You’re stronger than he remembers. But not strong enough alone.

My thumb hovered above the screen, trembling. Who are you? I typed again, desperation raw in my fingertips.

Three dots appeared. Stopped. Appeared again.

And then, finally—

You’ll know soon.

My pulse thudded, each beat sharper than the last. I wanted to throw the phone across the room and smash it into pieces until the words vanished. Instead, I shoved it into the pocket of my robe and crossed the living room, yanking the curtains shut so hard the rod rattled.

Darkness sealed me in, but it didn’t feel safer. It felt like suffocation.

My breath fogged the glass as I whispered to myself, “Don’t let her win. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

Because that’s who this had to be. Emily. Who else knew exactly how to twist the knife? Who else would dangle half-truths and let me bleed on the hook?

And yet—

A flicker of doubt wormed its way in, curling through my chest. Emily thrived on spectacle, on being seen. Would she really lurk in shadows and send cryptic warnings instead of parading in with silk blouses and crocodile tears?

My fingers brushed the phone in my pocket again, as though it might burn me.

If not Emily… then who?

I glanced up the staircase. Gabriel stirred faintly in their room, the creak of the floorboards above reminding me of his presence. Of his fragility. Of the gap widening between us every second I hesitated.

My choice tightened around me like a vice: go to him and risk his doubt, or stay silent and let the shadows swallow me whole.

Neither option felt like safety.

—

My bare feet whispered against the hardwood as I stepped toward the staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the house itself were pressing me down, warning me not to wake him.

Just tell him, I thought. Show him the texts. Make him believe you.

My hand gripped the bannister. I could almost picture it: Gabriel’s sleepy confusion hardening into frustration, his voice low and cutting as he asked if I was making things up again.

The shame of that imagined moment was almost worse than the fear of the dark outside.

I forced myself one more step up—

A noise stopped me cold.

Soft. Metallic. A faint click that came from the back door.

My head whipped toward the kitchen. The air inside the house seemed to shrink, pulling tight around me as I strained to listen.

Nothing.

Her heart was hammered anyway.

Did I lock it?

I couldn’t remember. The panic blurred my memory of the evening—the papers, Emily’s smirk and Gabriel’s haunted eyes. Had I even touched the back door after closing the curtains?

The silence grew unbearable.

Then it came again. Not a click this time. A scrape. Like metal against metal.

The blood drained from my face. Someone was there. At the door.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled it out, my hands clumsy with terror.

A new message lit the screen:

Stay upstairs. Don’t open it.

My throat went dry.

The phone slipped, clattering against the floorboards. I snatched it up quickly, breath ragged, eyes darting to the shadow of the back door at the edge of the kitchen.

The knob turned. Slowly. Testing.

My body locked in place. Every muscle screamed to run, to call Gabriel, to do something.

But my legs wouldn’t move.

Not when the door began to open.

The sound was agonising—wood groaning against hinges, the low moan of a door being forced where it shouldn’t go.

My nails dug into my palms as the gap widened. Inch by inch, the night spilt in, cold air sweeping across the kitchen floor.

My breath caught.

A shadow bled through the crack, long and distorted, stretching across the tiles.

The phone buzzed again in my hand.

Don’t scream.

My chest seized. Whoever this was—they were inside my head. Watching. Anticipating my every move.

The figure stepped inside. Just one foot. A heavy boot.

I staggered backward, my hand brushing the edge of the counter, knocking over a glass. It shattered against the floor, the sound ricocheting like a gunshot.

Upstairs, footsteps thudded. Gabriel.

The intruder froze.

My heart pounded so violently I thought my ribs might break. I stared at the shape in the doorway, my vision tunnelling.

Another buzz.

I risked a glance at the phone.

Trust me.

My lips parted, air barely squeezing past them. “What do you want?” I whispered.

The figure turned its head toward me, face obscured by the hood pulled low. For a terrifying second, silence stretched, heavy and merciless.

Then, quick as a flicker, the intruder lifted a finger to his lips.

A shhh.

My pulse stuttered.

The stairs creaked again—Gabriel, closer now.

The hooded figure stepped back, slipping into the dark outside as silently as he’d come. The door clicked shut.

Gone.

I sagged against the counter, my breath ragged, glass shards glittering around my feet.

By the time Gabriel stormed into the kitchen, shirt half-open, eyes blazing, the only proof I had was the phone trembling in my hand.

The message glowing on the screen.

You’re not alone.

—

“Eve?”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. His eyes darted from the shattered glass to my white face to the phone clutched in my trembling hand.

“What the hell happened?”

My lips parted, but no sound came. I could still feel the cold air on my skin and could still see the hooded figure retreating into the night.

“I—I heard something,” I stammered, my voice barely holding together. “At the back door. Someone was—”

Gabriel crossed the kitchen in three long strides, jerking the door open. The night spilt in, still and empty. He scanned the yard, the garden wall, and the dark street beyond. Nothing.

“No one’s here,” he said flatly.

“I saw them,” I insisted, my voice cracking. “They were inside, Gabriel. They stood right where you are.”

His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “Inside?”

I nodded furiously, gesturing with a shaking hand. “They came through the door. I heard the lock. I saw—”

My phone buzzed again in my palm. I froze.

Gabriel noticed. His gaze dropped to the glowing screen.

“Who’s texting you?” he demanded.

My mouth went dry. I wanted to shove the phone in his hands, make him read the messages, and make him understand she wasn’t crazy. But the memory of his voice yesterday—sharp, accusing, Is it true?’—held me back.

What if he thought I’d made them up? What if he thought I was grasping at shadows just to turn him against Emily?

His jaw tightened. “Eve.”

The weight of his suspicion pressed against my chest. I forced my hand behind my back, hiding the phone against my spine. “Wrong number,” I whispered. “Spam.”

His expression hardened, disbelief plain.

“Spam doesn’t make you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he muttered, turning back toward the door. He tested the lock twice, rattled it hard, then shut it again with a snap.

“From now on, you double-check everything,” he said, his voice clipped. “Doors, windows, alarms. I don’t care how paranoid it feels. Understand?”

I nodded, though my throat ached.

Gabriel’s gaze lingered on me a second longer, searching my face as if trying to dig out the truth I wouldn’t give. Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Go back upstairs. I’ll handle the glass.”

I wanted to protest, wanted to tell him I wasn’t fragile, that I wasn’t making it up. But the words tangled in my throat.

Instead, I turned, clutching the phone like a secret lifeline, climbing the stairs with my chest hollow and my heart fractured.

As soon as I closed the bedroom door behind me, the phone buzzed once more.

You did the right thing. Trust me. Don’t tell him yet.

My hands shook as I stared at the glowing screen.

Whoever they were, they knew too much.