Sarah woke up slowly, the morning light spilling across the room.
Adrian was asleep beside her, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist.
For a moment, she just watched him.
There was something warm in her chest—something gentle, something she didn't have a name for yet.
She tried to stand, but his grip tightened instinctively, pulling her back against him.
"Adrian," she whispered. "I thought you were sleeping."
"Just stay," he murmured, half-asleep. "A little longer."
She sighed and almost gave in—until a thought crossed her mind.
"Do you remember my birthday?" she asked softly. "The day you wanted to tell me something… before Rose, Kim, and Lola ruined it?"
Adrian was quiet.
"Oh. That?" He laughed weakly. "It was nothing. I probably forgot."
But Sarah felt it—the hesitation, the unspoken truth.
Adrian knew what he wanted to say.
He just wasn't ready to say it yet.
That same morning, Rose woke up to the smell of food.
Her mother was already in the kitchen.
"Oh, you're awake," her mother said, grabbing her bag. "I'm going to work. I want the house clean when I come back, okay?"
Rose nodded, then hesitated.
"Mom… last night. The noise upstairs. Are you sure you didn't hear it?"
Her mother frowned. "I didn't hear anything, Rose. Maybe something fell. You're overthinking."
Rose wanted to believe her.
But her hands were shaking.
After her mother left, Rose called Kim over.
They talked. Laughed. Watched movies.
Almost normal.
Until Kim spoke.
"I had a dream last night," he said quietly. "We were being chased. I couldn't see who it was… just that it was close."
Rose forced a laugh. "Dreams are stupid."
Kim looked at her seriously. "Promise me we'll stop bullying Sarah."
She stood up. "Who told you we were bullying her?"
"I just know," he said. "And… I don't want to go near her farm anymore. Especially the scarecrow."
Rose stiffened.
She felt the same—but didn't say it out loud.
When Kim left, the house felt too quiet.
Then she heard a noise upstairs.
She went to check.
A vase lay shattered on the floor.
As she reached down, glass sliced her palm.
She gasped.
Then—
A crash.
The table upstairs flipped over.
The lights went out.
"Kim?" she shouted. "This isn't funny."
Silence.
Then a voice whispered:
"It's already too late."
When her mother returned, they found nothing.
No intruder.
No explanation.
But Rose knew.
She wasn't alone in that house.