On her way home, She felt so scared,worried and tensed. On getting to the house, by the door, she fell unconscious, her mother ran out and raised an alarm.
Constance's recovery after her collapse was slow, but the doctors found nothing medically wrong.
Just "exhaustion," they said.
She said the same.
But inside, she was changed forever.
She never told anyone about the underworld, the old woman, or the ghostly garden. Not her mother. Not her friends. She buried the memory like a coffin—sealed and silent.
Years passed.
College brought new freedom, new distractions. But the dreams never fully stopped. The woman's voice still visited her, whispering warnings she pretended not to hear.
Then came Ray.
He was warm, easy to talk to, curious about everything. And he saw her. Not the quiet, careful version she showed the world—but the real her. Somehow, he looked past the mask.
One night, under the stars after a poetry event, Ray kissed her. And something sparked—an ancient flame she didn't know she had.
They made love. And for a moment, Constance forgot everything else—the garden, the whispering children, even the weight of destiny.
Until the test turned positive.