Chizzy crept to the top of the stairs, heart pounding. The front door hung open, swaying on its hinges. Cold wind swirled through the entryway, scattering leaves across the floor. She hadn't heard footsteps, no voice calling out—but someone had been here.
She descended slowly, her fingers brushing the banister for balance. "Hello?" she called, her voice low and uncertain. "Is someone there?"
No response.
She stepped outside, eyes scanning the fading daylight. Nothing but the trees swaying in the wind and the thickening fog. She turned to go back in—and nearly collided with a man on the porch.
She gasped, stumbling back. He held his hands up in apology.
"Sorry," he said, his voice low but calm. "Didn't mean to scare you."
It was Elias.
"I knocked," he added, glancing over her shoulder at the open door. "But I guess it wasn't loud enough."
"I didn't hear anything," she murmured, trying to slow her breathing.
He frowned. "Door was open when I got here."
She didn't correct him. Something had slammed it. But if he hadn't been the one inside…
"I just came to check on you," Elias said. "You looked… shaken earlier."
Chizzy studied him. He seemed sincere, but the timing felt wrong. Too convenient.
"I'm fine," she said. "Thank you."
He hesitated, then nodded. "If you need anything, my place is just down past the orchard. You'll see the lantern out front. It's always lit."
She nodded silently.
He turned and walked down the path, his silhouette vanishing into the fog.
Back inside, Chizzy closed the door and locked it tight. She returned upstairs, heart heavy with questions. She picked up the letter from the floor and stared at the name on the envelope again.
Chizzy.
Her mother had written it.
And somehow, after all these years, it had waited here… just for her.