BETWEEN ME AND YOU

THE THING THAT "CALL US BACK"

And a voice.

A voice that wasn’t Banjo’s.

“Do you want to go back?” it had asked.

And she had said yes.Now, every time she blinked, she saw that same whiteness flickering behind her eyelids, like something waiting. After breakfast, Lucia stepped outside to hang laundry. Kristine followed, wanting to help. The air was cool, the sky bright and merciless.

Lucia’s voice broke the silence. “I didn’t sleep last night,” she said quietly. “I kept praying, asking why He would send you back.”

Kristine looked down at the clothesline, the white sheets fluttering like ghosts. “And what did He say?”

Lucia sighed. “Nothing. But when I prayed for strength, I heard your voice. That was enough.”

Kristine smiled faintly, tears burning behind her eyes. “Thank you, Lucia.”

But before Lucia could respond, one of the sheets twisted in the wind, and for a split second, a handprint appeared against it. Pale. Wet. As if something had pressed from the other side.

Lucia froze. “Did you see...”

“I saw it,” Kristine said, her voice small.

The mist was rising again, creeping along the grass like smoke from a dream. Lucia clutched her rosary. “Banjo said if something felt wrong, we’d face it together.”

Kristine’s eyes filled with tears. “He doesn’t need to face this. Not yet.”

Lucia turned to her sharply. “You know something.”

Kristine hesitated. The wind carried the faintest echo... her own name whispered like a promise.

“I think…” she said softly, “I think I didn’t come back alone.”

The mist curled higher, brushing the edges of the porch steps. The air grew cold, humming with that low, otherworldly heartbeat again. Lucia reached for her hand. “Then we’ll fight it, hija. Whatever it is.”

Kristine looked at her, the mother who had once mourned her, the woman who now stood ready to protect her son and grandson again, and something inside her broke open with gratitude.

“Maybe,” Kristine whispered, “it doesn’t want a fight.”

Lucia frowned. “Then what does it want?”

Kristine looked toward the sea, where the mist pulsed like a living thing. “Me,” she said. “It wants me back.”

Inside, the house felt too small. The air carried the same cold hum that had followed Kristine since her return, a faint vibration beneath every breath. Lucia was the first to notice it wasn’t just noise. When she placed her rosary on the table, the beads began to tremble.

“Banjo,” she called, voice tight. “Ven aquí.”

He came from the workshop, wiping sawdust from his hands, frowning when he saw the way his mother stood... eyes fixed on the walls, lips whispering prayers between breaths. “What’s wrong?”

Lucia pointed toward the hallway. “It’s back. The mist.”

Banjo’s chest tightened. “Where’s Kristine?”

“Upstairs with Yuan. She’s packing a bag, just in case.” Banjo was halfway to the stairs when Kristine appeared at the landing. Her face was pale, her eyes too bright. “Don’t,” she said. “You can’t stop it this time.”

He froze, meeting her gaze. “Then tell me what it wants.”

Kristine swallowed hard. “Me. Only me.”

Yuan appeared behind her, clutching his mother’s hand. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said fiercely. “You just came back!” She turned, kneeling to his height, her hands shaking as she cupped his face. “Listen to me, sweetheart. No matter what happens, you stay with your dad and grandma, okay? Promise me.”

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “No. You promised you’d stay.”

Banjo came up the steps, pulling them both close, as if he could hold the whole world together with his arms. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “We always do.”

But the mist didn’t wait for promises.It seeped through the cracks in the walls, threads of light and shadow twisting together. The air grew heavy, and the room tilted, as if the house itself was caught between tides.

Lucia gripped the banister, shouting over the rising hum. “Banjo! We have to get the boy out!”

Banjo turned to her, panic flaring in his chest, but when he looked back, the mist was already wrapping around Kristine’s feet, curling upward like silver vines.

“Banjo!” she cried. “Don’t come closer!”

He lunged forward anyway, the air thick and cold against his skin. “I’m not losing you again!”

The mist pulsed, and for a split second, Banjo saw something inside it, a shape, tall and shifting, like a figure made of broken light. Eyes like empty mirrors looked back at him. Then he heard the voice.

“You asked for her return.”

“The debt must be paid.”

Banjo’s breath caught. “Take me instead.”

Kristine shook her head violently. “No! You can’t!”

He turned to her, his expression raw. “I can’t live without you, Kris. And I won’t let you go alone. If it wants you, it’ll have to take both of us.”

The mist paused for a moment, then surged forward again, crashing like ocean waves. Lucia quickly grabbed Yuan, pulling him back toward the stairs and holding him tightly against her chest as the walls flickered between being solid and shimmering with light.

“Banjo!” Lucia screamed. “Don’t do this!”

He glanced back at her, at his mother, his son, then at Kristine, whose tears shimmered like mist themselves.

“Ma,” he said, voice breaking, “take care of him.”

And just before Lucia could intervene, Banjo stepped boldly into the mist. Suddenly, the world erupted in a blinding white light. Kristine let out a scream, reaching out for him, but as their fingers brushed, the light seemed to fold in on itself, engulfing them both. The sound that followed was reminiscent of wind whistling through glass, as if time itself was breaking.

Lucia fell to her knees, clutching Yuan as the last threads of mist vanished through the window, leaving only the echo of Banjo’s promise.“I’ll follow you.”

Outside, the sea was calm again. The sky clear.

But on the porch, the two lockets, Banjo’s and Kristine’s, lay side by side, their chains all tangled up. Inside each locket, the photo had transformed: instead of just two people grinning at the camera, there was now a single image of the three of them, standing together in a place filled with mist and light.