Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Aili’s POV
My breath stopped.
The mirror flickered once more, the light above the fireplace buzzing faintly like it couldn’t decide whether to stay on or die completely. I felt Nick’s hand tighten around mine — warm, steady, real — but the cold dread in my chest kept spreading.
“Did you see that?” I whispered.
His voice came out low. Controlled.
“Yeah.”
We both turned slowly.
The living room behind us looked exactly the same. The couch sat untouched, cushions neatly in place. The curtains swayed slightly from the open window, letting in the cool night air. The hallway stretched into darkness, quiet and still.
Nothing stood there.
Nothing moved.
But the feeling remained — thick and watching.
Nick stepped half a pace in front of me without thinking, his body forming a barrier between me and the room. The protective instinct in that simple movement made my heart flutter in the worst possible moment.
“Aili,” he said quietly, “stay close to me.”
I swallowed hard.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Behind us, the mirror went still again.
No flicker.
No smile.
Just our reflections — finally normal.
Too normal.
I turned back toward it slowly, my pulse hammering in my ears. This time Nick’s reflection stood beside mine, exactly where it should be, his expression tense and alert.
“Maybe it was a trick of the light,” I said, though the words sounded weak even to me.
Nick didn’t answer immediately. He kept staring at the mirror, his jaw tight.
“Mirrors don’t smile on their own,” he said finally.
A chill ran down my spine.
From the kitchen, I heard Gran humming softly again — the same tune as before. Gentle. Familiar. Comforting.
But now it sounded wrong.
Too slow.
Too deliberate.
Nick heard it too. His head tilted slightly, listening.
“That song,” he murmured.
“My mom used to sing it,” I said quietly.
We stood there for a moment, the silence stretching thin between us.
Then the humming stopped.
Just cut off.
Like someone had pressed pause.
Nick exhaled slowly.
“Okay. That’s officially creepy.”
I let out a shaky laugh — the kind you make when fear starts creeping too close.
“Agreed.”
Before either of us could move, the hallway light flickered once, casting long shadows across the walls. My gaze drifted toward the framed family photos hanging there — birthdays, holidays, smiling faces frozen in time.
And that’s when I noticed it.
One photo was crooked.
Not slightly.
Completely tilted.
It hadn’t been like that earlier.
I stepped toward it slowly, drawn by something I couldn’t explain. Nick stayed close behind me, his presence steady like an anchor.
The photograph showed my parents standing together in front of the old house, years before everything changed. My mom’s arm wrapped around my dad, both of them smiling like the world was simple back then.
But now…
My mother’s face looked different.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Her smile seemed wider. Her eyes darker. Almost… knowing.
My breath caught.
“Nick,” I whispered, pointing. “Look at her.”
He leaned closer, studying the photo.
Silence.
Then his brows furrowed.
“Was it always like that?”
“No.”
The word came out instantly.
Certain.
My chest tightened as dread settled deep in my stomach.
Behind us, the floor creaked.
Slow.
Heavy.
We both turned sharply.
Gran stood at the end of the hallway, watching us.
Her expression was blank.
Not confused.
Not sleepy.
Just… empty.
“Gran?” I called softly.
She didn’t respond.
Nick stepped slightly in front of me again, his voice calm but firm.
“Ma’am?”
Nothing.
She just stood there, staring.
The air in the house felt thicker now, heavier — like a storm building inside the walls.
Then she blinked.
Once.
And her expression changed instantly.
Warm.
Normal.
“Oh,” she said gently. “There you are. I was wondering where you went.”
Relief washed through me — but it didn’t last.
Because her voice sounded normal.
Her face looked normal.
Yet something deep inside me whispered that we were missing something important.
Nick seemed to feel it too.
He gave me a quick glance, subtle but sharp — a silent question.
Are you okay?
I nodded slightly.
Not okay.
But holding together.
Gran shuffled back toward the kitchen, humming again, the sound fading into the distance.
The moment she disappeared around the corner, the temperature in the hallway dropped.
I rubbed my arms, shivering.
“Do you feel that?” I asked.
Nick nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
The lights flickered again.
This time longer.
The house went dark for half a second.
When the light returned, something had changed.
The mirror behind us — the same one above the fireplace — was fogged.
Completely covered in mist.
Like someone had breathed heavily against it.
My heart began to pound.
Neither of us had moved.
Neither of us had touched it.
Slowly, letters began to appear on the glass.
Not written.
Forming.
As if an invisible finger traced them from the inside.
Nick stepped closer to me, our shoulders touching.
We watched in silence as the message finished forming.
HE KNOWS.
My stomach dropped.
“Who knows?” I whispered.
The air grew colder.
The lights dimmed again.
And then the mirror cracked.
A sharp, sudden sound — like glass snapping under pressure.
A thin fracture split across the surface, running straight through our reflections.
I gasped.
Nick grabbed my hand instantly.
Warm.
Firm.
Protective.
“Aili,” he said quietly, “we need to leave.”
Before I could respond, the front door slammed shut on its own.
The entire house shook slightly.
Gran’s humming stopped again.
Silence swallowed everything.
Then, from somewhere upstairs — a place no one had been all evening — came a slow, deliberate sound.
Footsteps.
One.
Two.
Three.
Moving across the floor above us.
My breath turned shallow.
Nick’s grip tightened.
We both stared toward the staircase.
The footsteps stopped.
Complete silence followed.
And then—
A voice spoke from the darkness above.
Soft.
Calm.
Terrifyingly familiar.
My father’s voice.
“Aili… why did you bring him here?”
Nick went completely still beside me.
And in that moment, I realized something that made my blood run cold.
My dad wasn’t supposed to be home yet.