The taxi stopped at the edge of a long road lined with fir trees. In the distance, through the veil of snow, the silhouette of a house appeared. Not quite a manor, not exactly a home, something in between. A building from another time, its pale walls pierced by tall windows where faint light danced.
Catarina stepped out of the car. The cold bit instantly at her cheeks. The air smelled of pine, chimney smoke, and that faint metallic scent snow leaves behind.
The driver set her suitcase beside her, wished her happy holidays, and drove off without another word. His tires carved two dark lines in the snow, slowly fading behind him.
Catarina stood still for a moment. Her fingers gripped the handle of the suitcase; her breath came out in small clouds in the white night.
Before her, Althea's house seemed alive, as though every window were watching.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Her boots crunched softly in the snow. The closer she came, the more she saw, golden garlands along the railings, candles on the sills, a wreath of fir on the door.
Everything breathed warmth, celebration, love.
And yet, within this perfect scene, something trembled, a subtle dissonance, like a string pulled too tight.
The door opened before she could knock.
"CATARINAAA!" cried a joyful voice.
And suddenly, all her restraint broke apart. Althea appeared, wrapped in an oversized red sweater, hair messy, eyes shining.
She threw herself into Catarina's arms with the force of a storm.
"I'm so happy you're here! I thought your car would be delayed by the snow!"
"It almost was," Catarina laughed.
"But I survived."
The sincere spark in Althea's eyes warmed her instantly.
She stepped inside, brushing snow from her coat. The interior was even more beautiful than she'd imagined, soft lights, a grand wooden staircase, the scent of cinnamon and fire. Decorations everywhere, but never too much: an elegant Christmas, almost melancholic.
"Put your suitcase here," Althea ordered.
"My dad isn't home yet, you'll have time to settle in."
That word again, dad. Catarina simply nodded, pushing away the small tension that had lingered in her chest all day.
"He works late," Althea explained.
"But don't worry, he's super nice. A little… distant sometimes, but he tries."
Catarina had noticed, with Althea, joy always seemed to stick over a fracture.
"I'm sure I'll love him," she said softly.
She looked around. The living room opened onto a large bay window overlooking the garden. Snow fell endlessly, wrapping everything in an unreal white. An immense grand piano stood near the fire.
"Do you play?" she asked.
"No, my dad does. Sometimes at night, when he thinks I'm asleep."
"Oh…"
"I think it's his way of talking to my mother," Althea whispered.
A gentle, almost sacred silence fell between them. Then Althea smiled again.
"Come on, I'll show you your room!"
They climbed the stairs. The steps creaked softly, as if the house itself were breathing. Catarina noticed the paintings lining the walls: landscapes, old portraits, a mix of unknown faces and times.
But one made her stop. A portrait of a woman, young, beautiful, piercing green eyes. The gaze almost felt alive.
"Is that… your mother?" she asked.
"Yes. Aurora."
"She's stunning."
"She was," Althea said gently. People say I look like her, but I'm not sure I like that comparison."
Catarina felt she shouldn't insist.
They continued in silence to the guest room, bright, spacious, with a view of the snowy garden.
On the dresser, a scented candle already burned, filling the air with vanilla and pine.
Everything seemed perfect. Too perfect.
"It's wonderful," Catarina whispered.
"I knew you'd love it."
Althea came closer, placing a gift box on the bed.
"For you. But you're not allowed to open it before tomorrow night."
Catarina laughed.
"Deal."
When Althea left to fetch hot chocolate, Catarina stayed alone.
She turned to the window. The sky had darkened; the snow kept falling, slow and hypnotic.Beyond the trees, the forest formed a dark line.
And suddenly, without knowing why, she felt it again, that shiver, that sense of being watched.
She stepped closer to the glass. Nothing. Only her pale reflection, and behind her, the golden-lit room.
But as she turned away, a sound echoed below. A door. Slow, deep. Then footsteps, calm, measured.
Catarina's heart tightened for no reason.
Althea's voice rang out, cheerful:
"Dad! You're home!"
Dad. The word reverberated through her entire body.
She didn't have time to move.A shadow passed in the hallway below.Then footsteps climbed the stairs, each one heavier, louder than the last.
She stepped back, without knowing why.
And when, at the end of the hallway, a figure appeared, time froze. The world emptied of air.
The man raised his eyes. Their gazes met.
No word. No sound. Only that burning silence, heavy with everything that should have stayed buried.
She wanted to speak, but no sound came out.
And suddenly, everything she thought she had hiddentook the shape of a face she already knew.