Sharlene had only two days of rest before her husband came home. Her wonderful husband, she thought bitterly. Not that it made much difference.
Even when Martin was home, they barely saw each other—each wrapped up in their own schedules and responsibilities.

Nothing had changed.

She used to laugh at how hopeful she’d been. Now, she simply tried to avoid stress, knowing she needed to heal. She was also preparing to return to the school where she taught.

Ashley was with her, clutching her hand tightly as they walked into the school.
A chill ran down Sharlene’s spine as the memory flashed before her—the image of Ashley wearing a hospital gown.

Sharlene, you need to stop putting your child in danger.
The thought echoed sharply in her head.

She accompanied Ashley to the classroom, reminded her of a few things, and was about to leave when her daughter’s adviser called out.

“Good morning, Mrs. Francisco,” the teacher greeted warmly.

Sharlene returned a polite smile. “Good morning, Ma’am.”

The teacher looked slightly out of breath, as if she’d hurried just to catch her.
Sharlene waited patiently, noticing the form in her hand.

“Take your time, Ma’am,” she said gently. She had no classes that morning, so there was no rush.

“I’m sorry,” the teacher said finally, still catching her breath. “This is the parents’ consent form for the upcoming field trip.”

Sharlene furrowed her brows as she read. The trip was scheduled for Friday—a short half-day educational tour nearby. Nothing far or dangerous.

She nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “Are parents not allowed to accompany their children, Ma’am?”

“Unfortunately, no,” the teacher explained kindly. “The children are encouraged to experience this on their own. It’s part of their learning process.”

Sharlene hesitated. “Is it compulsory? Does my child have to attend?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the teacher said softly. “It’s a required part of the program.”

Through the classroom window, Ashley was watching her, eyes bright with anticipation.

She’ll feel left out if I don’t let her join.

With a sigh, Sharlene took a pen from her pocket, signed the paper, and handed it back.

“Thank you so much, Ma’am,” the teacher said gratefully.

Sharlene smiled faintly and gave a small bow. Before leaving, she waved at Ashley through the window. The girl waved back with a huge smile.

Once Ashley’s teacher went back inside, Sharlene turned and walked toward the high school department to prepare for her own class.

She would be teaching senior high students that day. She gathered her books, crossed the campus, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere—to the problems waiting at home.

Martin had brought up divorce again. He said their marriage just wasn’t working.

I want to leave too, Martin. But think of our child. If you can throw this family away, I can’t. I won’t hurt Ashley like that.

They were only living under the same roof for appearance’s sake. The family was already broken. Still, Sharlene held on—for Ashley’s sake.

Their arguments at home had become routine. She always tried to shield her daughter from them, but Martin’s words often cut deep. She endured them silently, taking the blows, convincing herself it was all for Ashley—to keep her father close.

I wish he thought the same way.

When she reached her classroom, she double-checked the section name and grade level before entering. The students immediately fell silent and stood up even before she could ask.

She sighed. Her energy was low, but she had to set her personal life aside. The class waited quietly.

“Who’s assigned to lead the prayer today?” she asked.

A student raised their hand and went to the front. Everything followed the usual rhythm—an opening prayer, a short activity, discussion, then a quick quiz. When the bell rang, she dismissed the class and stepped out.

With an hour of free time, Sharlene went back to the faculty room and settled at her desk. Her paperwork had piled up since her short leave for her grandmother Felicia’s funeral.

She sighed deeply. The room was quiet—most teachers were still in class.

As she began filling out forms, an odd feeling washed over her. Her eyes flicked toward the door.

You’re just imagining things again, Sharlene, she told herself and shook her head.

She returned to her paperwork.

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed from outside. Startled, she stood and peeked into the hallway.

No one was there.

She was about to return to her desk when she noticed a figure a few meters away—a girl in a junior high uniform, her back turned.

Sharlene frowned. “Go back to your class,” she called firmly.

The girl didn’t respond.

“What grade are you in?” she asked again, taking a cautious step forward.

Slowly, the girl turned around. Her face was pale and sorrowful.

“She’s waiting for you,” the girl said softly.

And just like that—she vanished.

The hairs on Sharlene’s arms stood up. Her chest tightened as she rushed back to her desk, her thoughts spinning.

Did I imagine that? Was that real?
Why is this ability haunting me again?

She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing unevenly.

Who is waiting for me?