Daniel's breath came in short, uneven gasps as he stared at the note in his trembling hands. The words blurred before his eyes, but the message remained sharp, cutting through his thoughts like a blade.
"You weren't supposed to find this. Stop digging."
Emily had written it. But when? And why?
A chill crawled up his spine as he lowered the note, his mind racing with possibilities. Had she written this before she died? Or—his throat tightened—had she never died at all?
The weight of realization crushed his chest. If Emily had written this recently, then she was alive. And if she was alive, then everything he had believed, everything he had mourned, had been a lie.
Catherine. His pulse thundered in his ears as her name surfaced in his mind like a dark omen. She had to be involved. She had always been too close, too convenient in her concern. What did she know? What had she done?
Daniel's fingers clenched around the note as he strode across the room. He needed answers. Now.
He powered on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he searched Catherine's name. Every article, every record—he combed through them like a man possessed, desperate for a thread, a clue, anything that would lead him to the truth.
And then he heard it.
A soft humming.
His blood turned to ice. He knew that tune. He had heard it before—long ago, in the quiet moments of their life together. Emily would hum it while knitting, her fingers deftly working the yarn into something beautiful. It was a lullaby, meant for the child they had lost.
Daniel's breath hitched as memories crashed over him. The nursery. The last time they had been in that room together. The night everything had changed.
The humming grew louder. He turned sharply, searching for the source, until his gaze landed on his phone lying face down on the table. The screen flickered to life, a recording playing on its own.
His heart pounded as he reached for it. But just as quickly, his fingers froze. The recording wasn't new. It wasn't something he had chosen to play. It was already playing.
With shaking hands, he paused it. And that's when the realization hit him—he had never recorded Emily's humming on his phone.
They had security cameras, yes, but his phone? No. He never used it for that. And yet, there it was. A fresh recording.
Dread coiled in his stomach as he checked the date.
Today.
His breath caught. His vision swam. How? When was it recorded?
His mind reeled for an explanation, but none came. He couldn't remember ever setting up his phone to capture anything like this. He assumed it had to be a mistake, a glitch—anything but what his gut was screaming at him.
His hands trembled as he gripped the device, his pulse a deafening drumbeat in his ears. His body moved before his mind caught up, his legs carrying him forward, out of the room, down the hall.
Before he even realized it, he was standing in the nursery.
The room that had been left untouched for years.
And in that moment, he knew—something was waiting for him inside.
Daniel's breath was shallow as he stepped into the nursery. The moment he crossed the threshold, a shiver ran down his spine. His instincts screamed at him to turn back, to leave, but his body moved forward against his will.
The door slammed shut behind him.
A sharp gasp escaped his lips as Emily's humming filled the room again, curling around him like a ghostly whisper. The walls trembled, the floor beneath him seemed to shift. His head spun, darkness creeping at the edges of his vision. The last thing he felt was a sharp pain lancing through his skull before everything faded to black.
Then—
Pain.
A deep, searing pain pounded in his head as his eyes fluttered open. A blur of colors and shapes swam before him. Slowly, painfully, the world came into focus.
Faces. Familiar faces.
His mother, tears spilling down her cheeks, her lips trembling as she looked at him. His father, eyes hollow, face etched with exhaustion. His little sister, her expression one of utter sadness. And beside them, his best friend, watching him with a mixture of relief and worry.
Daniel's breath hitched. He never thought he'd see them again. Not like this.
Confusion gripped him. He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his body, sharp and unrelenting. He groaned, and immediately, his mother was at his side, gripping his arm. "Don't move, please," she begged, her voice breaking.
His mind whirled. "How…? How did I get here?" he rasped.
His best friend exhaled heavily. "I'm glad I decided to check up on you that day."
Daniel frowned. "Check up on me? What are you talking about?"
His mother wiped at her tears, but they kept falling. "Daniel, I know Emily's death broke you, but… after a year of searching for her, after everything, we need to accept that she's gone. We need you to accept it."
His stomach twisted. "What do you mean? I—" He tried to push himself up, but something tugged at his wrists. He looked down.
Bandages. Wrapped tightly around both of them.
His breath caught. "What… what happened?"
His mother choked back a sob. "Daniel… if your friend hadn't found you in time… you would've bled out." Her voice cracked. "Why? Why would you try to take your own life?"
Daniel barely heard her. Everything around him blurred. His mother, his father, Lenny—his best friend. Their words echoed in his ears, but his mind couldn't grasp them. Something was wrong. Something didn't add up.
He felt conscious—too conscious. Was this real? Was he dreaming? Was he awake? He wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Was he imagining everything? Or was this actually happening?
Who was messing with his mind?
Emily. Was she alive? Or was she a ghost?
And if she was a ghost… why was she haunting him?
His thoughts spiraled, trapping him in an endless loop of uncertainty. His vision blurred again, his breathing uneven. The world around him felt distant, unreal.
Then his mother's voice broke through the haze, pulling him back to reality.
She sobbed, gripping his hands tightly. "Daniel, please… please, for my sake. Don't do this to yourself. I understand the love you had for your wife, but you have to stop. You have to let her go. Daniel sat on the hospital bed, his mother's tear-streaked face blurring as his mind drifted. His father stood stiffly by the window, hands clenched, eyes hollow. His little sister sat curled in a chair, hugging her knees, while Lenny, his best friend, hovered nearby, his gaze sharp with concern.
They were talking to him—pleading, questioning—but their voices faded into a low hum. His thoughts spiraled, pulling him elsewhere. Emily's humming. The nursery. The door shutting behind him. The room shaking. Then—nothing. Just the sting of his own breath as he woke up to this sterile, whitewashed reality.
His fingers brushed over the bandages wrapped around his wrists. Had he really…? No. That wasn't right. That wasn't what happened.
"Daniel, please." His mother's voice cracked, yanking him back for a moment. "You have to let her go. She's gone."
Gone? No. The note. The recording. The humming. The date. Everything screamed otherwise.
His lips moved before he even registered the words. "Lenny."
Lenny's head jerked up. "Yeah?"
Daniel's eyes locked onto his best friend's. His heart pounded, a single question clawing its way out. "Was I alone when you found me?"
A heavy silence fell over the room. Lenny hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he asked, "Why?"
Daniel shook his head, swallowing hard. "Just answer me. Don't overthink it."
Lenny exhaled, glancing at the others before answering. "Yes. You were alone. You were barely breathing when I got there."
Daniel's pulse spiked. His chest tightened. Alone? That couldn't be right.
Because he remembered a hand on his shoulder.
A whisper in his ear.
A shadow standing over him before everything went black.