The clock struck midnight. Nida closed her diary slowly, her fingers lingering on the worn cover as though it carried the weight of every secret she had poured into it. A soft smile touched her lips fragile, but real. For the first time in years, she felt lighter, as if the shadows inside her had finally begun to fade. Â
She walked quietly into her daughter’s room. The little girl was curled up under the blanket, her breathing steady and innocent. Nida brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and whispered, almost like a promise,
“Everything will be alright now, my love.”
Her daughter stirred, murmuring something sweet in her sleep, and Nida’s heart swelled. For a moment, the world felt safe. Warm. Pookie.
But when she returned to her room and switched off the light, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The glow of the screen cut through the darkness. One new message. Unknown sender.
“Your diary doesn’t belong to you anymore.”
Her breath caught. The phone slipped from her trembling hand, landing with a dull thud on the floor. Silence pressed in around her, heavy and suffocating. Then she felt it. A presence.
Her eyes darted to the window. A shadow stood outside, unmoving, watching.
Nida’s pulse raced. She whispered to herself, barely audible,
“Who are you…? What do you want?”
No answer. Only the stillness of the night and the chilling certainty that someone had crossed the boundary between her private world and the darkness beyond. Â
