The evening breeze that usually filled the air of Taman Dahlia had ceased. Aisha sat on her porch, staring at the horizon, but it wasn’t the typical quiet of a sleepy suburban evening. The world outside felt unnervingly still, like time itself had stopped. Not a single leaf moved. The night sounds of crickets, distant traffic, and the occasional bark of a dog were absent, as if someone had turned down the volume on the world. The silence... it pressed against her, suffocating her.

She stood up, her breath shallow as a shiver ran down her spine. Why does it feel like this? she thought, frowning, as she glanced at the still garden, at the thick, unnatural quiet that surrounded her house. Aisha shook her head. Maybe it was just her imagination.

Inside, her parents sat before the TV, their voices muffled in the eerie stillness. “Have you noticed it’s too quiet tonight?” Aisha asked, her voice unsteady.

Her mother barely looked up, “It’s just a quiet night, dear.”

But Aisha saw the sudden unease in her father's eyes. Something’s wrong, he thought, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She felt it too—the pressing weight of an unseen force, watching, waiting. The oppressive quiet felt as though it was closing in around them.

And then, in the deepest corners of the silence, Aisha thought she heard something—a whisper. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. She turned quickly, but saw nothing. Her heart pounded, her palms sweating. She dismissed it as her mind playing tricks on her. But deep inside, she knew something was terribly, horribly wrong.