House no.9

Chapter Six

The morning began like any other.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the smell of coffee drifted upstairs.

I stretched, expecting to find Harper beside me.

Her side of the bed was empty.

"Harper?" I called.

"I'm in the backyard!" she shouted.

I slipped on my slippers and wandered downstairs.

The kitchen looked exactly as we'd left it the night before.

Almost.

The broken mirror I'd been certain I'd seen before going to bed looked perfectly normal.

Not a single crack.

I frowned.

Maybe it had been a dream.

"Sage!" Harper called again.

I stepped through the back door.

Harper was kneeling in the overgrown garden, pulling weeds from what had once been a flower bed.

"I think this used to be someone's favorite spot," she said, brushing dirt from her hands.

"You can tell?"

She pointed toward a circle of old stones surrounding a patch of wild flowers.

"Someone took care of this once."

I smiled and knelt beside her.

For the next hour, we worked together, talking about everything except the strange things that had happened since moving in.

It felt... peaceful.

Until Harper stopped talking.

"What is it?" I asked.

She stared toward the upstairs bedroom window.

"I thought I saw someone."

My stomach tightened.

"Someone where?"

She squinted.

"There."

I followed her gaze.

The curtains moved gently in the breeze.

Nothing else.

"I don't see anyone."

Harper laughed nervously.

"Neither do I now."

We looked at each other for a moment before brushing it off.

"Guess we're both sleep-deprived," I said.

"Definitely."

We went back to gardening.

Neither of us noticed the upstairs curtain slowly fall still.

There wasn't any wind.

Not anymore.

We stayed in the garden until the afternoon sun became too warm to bear.

"I surrender," Harper groaned, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

I laughed.

"You've pulled weeds for twenty minutes."

"Twenty-seven," she corrected. "And my back has officially given up on me."

I offered her a hand, helping her to her feet.

"Come on. Let's go inside."

The cool air that greeted us was a welcome relief.

Harper disappeared into the kitchen to grab us two glasses of lemonade while I wandered into the living room.

Something felt... different.

Not frightening.

Just different.

I frowned, looking around.

The couch.

The coffee table.

The bookshelf.

Everything seemed to be exactly where we'd left it.

Then I noticed it.

One of the framed photographs we'd hung yesterday was crooked.

I walked over and straightened it.

A smile tugged at my lips.

"Harper," I called. "You hung another picture crooked."

"I heard that!" she shouted from the kitchen.

"I'll pretend I didn't."

Chuckling to myself, I turned away.

A loud crash echoed through the house.

The sound came from upstairs.

Harper rushed into the living room, nearly spilling the lemonade.

"What was that?"

"I... I don't know."

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Harper sighed.

"It's probably one of the boxes falling over."

"Probably."

Even so, we climbed the stairs together.

The hallway was empty.

The bedroom door stood open.

Inside, nothing looked out of place.

No fallen boxes.

No broken furniture.

No shattered glass.

"That's strange," Harper whispered.

I nodded.

"I'm sure we both heard it."

"We did."

We searched every room on the second floor.

Nothing.

As we turned to leave, I noticed something lying on the hallway floor.

A single photograph.

I bent down and picked it up.

It was one of ours.

A picture Harper and I had taken months before we moved.

We'd left it downstairs in a box that morning.

"Did you bring this up here?" I asked.

Harper frowned.

"No."

I stared at the photograph.

Someone had folded it neatly in half.

Neither of us remembered doing that.

Without saying a word, I slipped it into my pocket.

"Let's go downstairs," Harper said quietly.

This time...

Neither of us tried to explain it away.

Neither of us spoke as we made our way downstairs.

Harper set the glasses of lemonade on the coffee table, but neither of us reached for them.

She glanced at the photograph still clutched in my hand.

"Maybe it got mixed in with one of the boxes."

"Maybe."

Even to my own ears, the word sounded uncertain.

I carefully unfolded the photograph.

There we were.

Harper stood beside me, grinning as the wind blew strands of my hair across my face. We'd taken the picture at a beach the summer before.

Nothing looked unusual.

Until I turned it over.

My smile faded.

Written neatly in black ink were four words.

You look happy together.

I stared at the handwriting.

"Harper..."

She walked over.

"What is it?"

I silently handed her the picture.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she read the words.

"...Did you write this?"

I looked at her in disbelief.

"No."

She turned the photograph over again.

"I didn't either."

For a long moment, we simply looked at one another.

Finally, Harper forced a small laugh.

"It was probably there before. We just never noticed."

I wanted to believe her.

I really did.

Instead of arguing, I slipped the photograph into the drawer of the coffee table.

"Let's forget about it."

Harper nodded.

"Movie night?"

I smiled.

"Movie night."

An hour later, the living room was lit only by the television.

A bowl of popcorn sat untouched between us as an old comedy played in the background.

For the first time that day, we laughed.

Real laughs.

The kind that made my stomach hurt.

When the movie ended, Harper rested her head on my shoulder.

"I think we're going to be okay here."

I looked around the quiet living room.

"I hope you're right."

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees.

Somewhere upstairs...

A floorboard creaked.

Neither of us heard it.

On the coffee table, the drawer eased open by itself.

The photograph lay exactly where I'd left it.

Except...

The words on the back had changed.

Let's see how long that lasts.

A sense of dread washed through me what could it mean?.....