Emily jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to her mind like thick fog. Her heart pounded violently against her chest. She reached for the clock on the nightstand—4:03 AM. The house was silent except for the distant creaks of old wood settling. She sat up slowly, careful not to wake Edward, whose calm breathing offered a small sense of comfort. Not wanting to disturb him, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and made her way to the living room.

She collapsed onto the couch, wrapping a throw blanket around her shoulders. The silence felt oppressive, so she turned on the television, hoping the soft hum of background noise might lull her back into sleep. The flickering screen bathed the room in a dull, bluish light. Yet sleep didn’t come. Instead, her mind drifted, restless and haunted by the fragments of her dream.

An hour later, Edward stirred in bed, puzzled by the faint glow spilling in from the hallway. He reached out instinctively, only to find the space beside him cold and empty. Concerned, he got up and followed the soft drone of the TV. There, in the living room, he found Emily curled up on the couch, her face pale, her forehead dotted with sweat. The TV’s light made her skin look ghostly. He knelt beside her, gently brushing her damp hair from her face.

"Emily," he whispered softly, placing a hand on her forehead. His heart sank. She was burning up.

Quietly, he turned off the TV and fetched a blanket, tucking it around her before standing back, watching her sleep fitfully. He let out a sigh, debating whether to wake her—but she needed rest. With a heavy heart, he returned to bed, hoping she’d feel better come morning.

The next morning, Edward rose early to prepare Lily for school. He moved through the routine with gentle efficiency—packing her lunch, braiding her hair, reminding her to behave, and walking her to the bus stop. As he returned, he glanced toward the couch. Emily was still asleep, her brow furrowed even in slumber.

It wasn’t until nearly 11 AM that Emily stirred, groaning as she stretched out her aching limbs. When she saw the time, her eyes widened in panic.

"Why didn’t you wake me up, honey?" she gasped, scrambling upright. "You’re late for work!"

Edward appeared from the kitchen with a cup of tea in hand, his expression a mix of concern and gentle amusement. "Good morning," he said calmly. "How are you feeling? What about that headache?"

Emily waved him off, still flustered. "I don’t have time for all this. You’re late. Let me make some breakfast—"

"You don’t need to," Edward interrupted, his tone firm but warm. "I’m not going in today."

She blinked in confusion. "You’re not? But... your project?"

"I informed Joey this morning. They can manage without me for a day. I needed to be here—with you."

Emily opened her mouth to argue but paused when she saw the genuine worry in his eyes.

"You were running a high fever earlier," he continued. "You need to take it easy, Emily."

Her shoulders dropped, the tension draining from her. She gave him a small smile. "Alright. I’ll sit. Just for a while."

"Good," Edward said, satisfied. "Now eat something while I get your medicine."

She nibbled at the toast he brought, still a bit dazed. When he handed her the pills and a glass of water, she hesitated.

"Do I really need this?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Edward smiled patiently. "Yes. Trust me, you’ll thank me later."

As she swallowed the medicine, she gave him a look of quiet gratitude. "Thank you... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’d probably burn the house down," he teased, chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

Later that day, as the fever subsided, Emily spent the morning reading and attempting to rest. But her mind kept drifting back to the nightmare. There was something about it—something too vivid to ignore.

Despite Edward’s protests, Emily insisted on helping clean up around the house. By the time Lily returned from school, Emily had shaken off her fatigue and was determined to move.

"Emily, I can take care of this," Edward said, wiping his hands on a towel. "You should still be resting."

She placed a hand on his arm. "Please. You’ll wear yourself out. Besides… you’re the one who’s expecting, remember?" she added with a playful smirk.

Edward sighed, defeated by her earnestness. "Alright. But no lifting anything heavy."

"I promise," she said, already heading toward the hallway.

She turned to Lily with a soft smile. "Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go clean your grandfather’s study."

As they stood outside the old study door, Emily paused, her hand resting on the knob. Her voice came out as a whisper. "Forgive me, Dad."

"What did you say, Mom?" Lily asked, tilting her head.

"Nothing," Emily replied quickly. She opened the door.

The air inside the study was thick with dust and time. Shelves sagged under the weight of old books, and cobwebs clung to every corner. As they cleaned, Emily seemed distracted, her eyes scanning the room with an intensity that Lily noticed.

"Are you looking for something?" Lily asked curiously.

Emily hesitated. "No, sweetie... just... remembering things."

But a few minutes later, Emily gasped quietly as her fingers brushed against something wedged behind a stack of books. She pulled out a worn, leather-bound diary, her hands trembling.

"I found it," she whispered, almost to herself.

Lily peered over. "What is it?"

Emily traced her fingers over the cover. On the first page, in faded ink, were the words:

This diary belongs to Jonathan Matthew.

A chill crept down her spine.

"It’s your grandfather’s diary," she said. "I think... it might have some answers."

Later that afternoon, Edward called Lily into the kitchen. As she munched on her sandwich, he asked, "So, how was the cleaning with Mom? Did you talk about anything fun?"

Lily nodded. "She found this old diary. She said it was Grandpa’s."

Edward paused mid-sip of his tea. "Oh? What was in it?"

"I don’t know. She didn’t let me read it," Lily said, her mouth full. "She got really serious all of a sudden."

Edward smiled gently. "Well, sounds like Mom’s working on a little mystery."

Emily sat alone in the study again, flipping through the brittle pages. Her heart skipped when she found a photograph pressed between two entries. Her mother sat in a wheelchair, smiling faintly. A lump formed in Emily’s throat. So many memories she had buried were crawling back.

She turned another page—and stopped.

Suddenly, a sharp pain throbbed behind her eyes. She winced, clutching her temples as a distant, unfamiliar voice echoed her name—Emily...

Before panic could rise, Edward’s voice rang out from the hallway.

"Emily? You in there?"

She blinked rapidly, forcing calm. "Yeah! Just getting changed!"

In a flurry, she stuffed the diary under the cushion and quickly changed clothes. She opened the door with a practiced smile.

"Hey, hon. Thanks for the food."

Edward entered with sandwiches and coffee, eyeing her with suspicion. "What took you so long?"

"I was just changing," she replied quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Lily told me you found a diary. Your dad’s?"

Emily hesitated, then pulled it out and handed it to him. "Yeah. It’s... my father’s. I just found it today."

Edward flipped through the pages, nodding thoughtfully. "Interesting. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later," she said softly, her smile faltering as the weight of unanswered questions returned.

A few days later, Edward suggested they take a short break. "Let’s get out of the house this weekend—go somewhere fun. Just us."

Emily agreed.

They spent the day at a nearby amusement park. Laughter echoed in the air, and for the first time in days, things felt... normal. Happy. Whole.

At the center of the park stood a mirror maze. Lily tugged at her parents' hands. "Please, please can we go inside?"

Edward chuckled. "You sure you won’t get scared?"

"I’m not a baby!" Lily declared proudly.

Together, they entered the maze, laughter and reflections bouncing around them. For a while, it was just a game—until Lily bumped into one of the mirrors and stumbled back, rubbing her forehead with a tiny whimper.

Edward and Emily knelt beside her, stifling their laughter, and kissed her bump away. For a fleeting moment, everything felt light. 

Everything had been going fine—until Emily’s daydream began.

She drifted too far, losing her way and becoming separated from the family. Alone now, an eerie stillness surrounded her. That’s when she heard it—Edward’s voice, faint and distant. “Here, Emily, come to me, hurry up,” it called.

Then came the laugh.

It wasn’t human. Twisted, cold, and crawling beneath her skin.

Panic flooded her. Tears streamed down as she begged God to help her. Suddenly, silence. A hand touched her shoulder.

Relieved, she whispered, “Please, Edward, don’t joke like this.”

But it wasn’t Edward.

In the mirror beside her, she saw it—a devil-like figure looming just behind her. Her breath caught. She sobbed harder, pleading with God for mercy.

Suddenly, Edward was there, pulling her back. This time, it was really him. But fear still gripped her. She didn’t trust her eyes.

“Hey, idiot,” he said gently, “it’s me—your Edward.”

She hesitated... then chose to believe.

But the nightmare wasn’t over.

Edward’s phone rang—the house was on fire. They raced back. Flames consumed the place. The fire truck was on its way.

It was her father’s room burning.

The devil’s voice returned, whispering inside her head—Go in… get it. Compelled, she ran toward the blaze.

“Emily!” Edward shouted. “Are you mad? Come back!”

She didn’t stop. Smoke choked her lungs as she searched frantically. She fell, crying out as pain ripped through her stomach. But she rose—bloodied, shaking—and found what she needed.

Edward burst in and dragged her out.

Outside, she knelt on the ground, frantically trying to put out the fire on the object she’d saved—a box.

Her father’s box.

Inside it, the diary.

Edward shouted at her. “You could’ve died for that diary!”

Emily said nothing. Then coughed—deep, thick blood.

Her wound had torn deeper than anyone knew.

The fire truck arrived. So did the ambulance.

She collapsed.

Hours later, the doctor returned. “She’s safe,” he said. “But… she’s no longer pregnant. The baby is gone.”

Edward grabbed the doctor by the collar. “Are you mad?!”

Then he froze.

And crumbled to the floor, swallowing his scream.