The night stretched on with ominous clouds drifting across the sky and a chilly breeze that whispered through the air like a forgotten lullaby. “It’s the perfect night,” murmured Emily George, her arms folded around herself as she gazed out the window. At 32, 3 months pregnant, she carried both warmth and weariness in her expression. When the front door creaked open, she turned with a smile to greet her husband. Edward George stepped in, tired but smiling, shaking off the cold as he handed her his coat. She took it gently, asking about his day. “It was pleasant, though I’m a bit weary,” he replied, his voice low with exhaustion. “And yours?”

Emily smiled more brightly now, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Better than yesterday. I finally found the TV remote—Lily was about to start a revolution without her cartoons.” Edward chuckled, loosening his tie, when Emily raised an eyebrow. “You look suspicious,” she teased. With a mischievous grin, Edward revealed a small box in his hand. “Well, my dear... I brought some gulab jamun and ice cream from the market.” Her eyes lit up as if he’d brought treasure. “Mmm, you actually brought it? Oh, Edward, thank you! You’re the best.” She leaned in, playfully nudging him. “You spoil me, you know that?” He smiled, brushing her cheek gently.

The Georges had recently moved into a large, old house at the edge of town—a place that had remained locked and untouched for more than a decade. Now, the house echoed again with voices and laughter. After Edward had freshened up, the family sat together for dinner. Lily, their lively 12-year-old daughter, chattered away as Emily described her exhausting day of cleaning. “There were spiderwebs everywhere,” she said dramatically. “But thank God, not a single spider. I think I deserve a medal.” Edward grinned and reached for the salad. “Well, it does look better than before. You’re making this place shine again.”

She glanced around the room, her tone softening. “It’s strange. This house was locked up for years after my father passed. But now, even with all the dust... it’s starting to feel like home again.” Edward looked at her, his voice tender. “I’m glad you feel that way.” Emily leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “Father George came by earlier today. He said he loved the house, but I think he wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe it stirred up some old feelings.” She hesitated, then added, “Oh, and while I was cleaning the study—I found something.”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “What kind of something?”

“A small wooden box,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s locked, but it looks old and... personal. I think it belonged to my father. I remember seeing it when I was a kid, in his study. He never let me near it.”

Curiosity flickered in Edward’s eyes. “Do you think we should try to open it?”

“Maybe,” she replied, thoughtful. “But I don’t want to rush. It might contain something important. Or painful.” Just then, Lily peeked into the dining room, eyes wide with excitement. “What are you guys talking about?”

Emily smiled. “We found a box that used to belong to your grandpa. It’s locked. We’re thinking of opening it.”

“Can I see it?” Lily asked, bouncing on her toes.

“After dinner,” Edward said, patting her shoulder. “We’ll show it to you then.”

Later that evening, after Lily had gone to bed, Emily and Edward returned to the study. Emily searched the old drawers and beneath floorboards, recalling where her father used to hide things. Finally, with trembling fingers, she opened the box—and an uneasy feeling crept over her. Inside were a few adult magazines that made her snort and roll her eyes, but beneath them lay a photo album. Flipping through the worn pages, her heart stopped at one particular picture—a photo of a girl she didn’t recognize, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Her brows furrowed deeply. What the hell is this?

Edward entered behind her. “You opened it? What’s inside?”

“Old photos,” she said quickly, slipping the unfamiliar picture into her back pocket. “This one... that’s me. And those are my parents.”

“You were adorable,” he said warmly, brushing his fingers along the photo.

“Hehe... yeah,” she murmured, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

“How’s Lily?” she asked.

“Asleep,” Edward replied. “You coming to bed?”

“I will. Just need a moment.”

Later, standing on the balcony with a cigarette between her fingers, Emily stared at the moon. The cool night air didn’t settle the strange knot forming in her stomach. The photo haunted her. Something about it felt wrong—off. But she couldn’t explain why.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the bedroom curtains. Emily stirred, tucked close to Edward under the thin blanket. The warmth of their skin still lingered, and for a brief moment, all felt peaceful. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before rising, slipping into her nighty and heading down the hall to wake Lily.

Soon, the house buzzed with life. Lily appeared at breakfast holding a black kitten in her arms, its bright yellow eyes gleaming with mischief. “Look what I found near the gate!” she cried. Edward grimaced. “A cat?”

“Can we keep it?” Lily pleaded. Emily looked at the little creature, who purred contentedly in her daughter’s arms. “We can keep it,” she said softly. “Let’s name him Midnight.” Edward sighed. “Alright. But he stays out of my office.”

As they sat down for breakfast, Edward noticed faint marks on Emily’s shoulder. “Where did those come from?”

She blinked in confusion, touching her skin. “I don’t know. Maybe when the box fell on me yesterday? My shoulder’s been sore.”

Edward rubbed his temples. “Your head too?”

“Didn’t sleep well,” she muttered. “Probably just the move. This house... it feels different at night. Unsettling.”

That evening, Edward returned home to find Emily curled up on the couch, her head still aching. “I cleaned a little today,” she said, her voice low. “But I’m exhausted. My body’s not cooperating.”

“I’ll make you coffee,” Edward said gently. “But please rest. And... you should take a bath. You’re covered in dust, Madame.”

Emily chuckled faintly, forcing a smile. “Yes, sir.”

In the quiet of the bathroom, she undressed slowly, letting the fabric slip from her body like water. The warm shower embraced her, easing her tension. Her hands trembled slightly as she dried off, her senses raw and heightened. Wrapped in a soft towel, she stared at herself in the fogged mirror. Something deep within her felt... off.

Later that night, she slipped under the sheets, her skin tingling from the warmth of the water, and cuddled into Edward’s side. But as the clock neared 3 a.m., her sleep grew restless. She tossed and turned, her brow furrowed with unspoken fears. Shadows crawled through her dreams—dark figures whispering things she couldn’t understand, a suffocating presence pressing down on her chest. In her nightmare, she cried out, but no sound came. She reached for Edward, but he wasn’t there.

At exactly 4 a.m., her eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she gasped, clutching her neck. The terror still clung to her skin like sweat. She lay frozen for a moment, the room silent but heavy with a presence she couldn’t name. Edward stirred beside her, pulling her into his arms. Emily didn’t speak. She just held on, trembling quietly in the dark, unable to shake the fear that whatever haunted her in her dream… wasn’t entirely imaginary.