Loving A Stranger

A Mother's Love

The wind howled, rattling my window. I woke with my heart beating from a dream I couldn’t remember only that something had been watching me.

Just a dream, I told myself.

Barefoot on cool tile, I padded to the living room. Lemon cleaner and my mother’s hair oil usually steadied me. Tonight, they felt like a thin layer over something darker.

“Mom, I’m an adult now. I don’t need babysitting,” I said.

She looked up from folding clothes, brown eyes warm but sharp. “I know, love. But as my only surviving child, you have to listen. I’ve lived in isolation for a reason. After losing your father and brother… I can’t lose you too, Tasha.”

I’d heard it all before, but it still hooked something inside me. “I get it. But I can’t live in a cage forever.”

Her gaze darted to the window fear flashed and vanished. “Alright, no arguing tonight. Let’s have popcorn and ice cream. Maybe figure out who your secret admirer is.”

I smirked, thinking of the note I’d never told her about: Wait. Not yet.

We curled up on the couch. She talked about clients, and I thought about freedom. Mina, my best friend since we were seven was part of every plan. She hid bruises with long sleeves and laughter, and I loved her fiercely.

“Earth to Tasha,” Mom said, eyebrow raised.

“Sorry. Zoned out.”

“I was saying… the beach this weekend.”

My grin was instant. She laughed. “We’ll shop tomorrow.”

That night, she whispered our usual I love you from the moon, sun, stars, and back. I replied in kind, but sleep wouldn’t come. A creak in the hall made me slip to my door. Through the c***k in hers, I saw her silhouette speaking to someone.

“Mom?” I whispered.

She startled, closed the door. “Go to sleep, Tasha.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Morning brought coffee and toast. Mina texted: Packing. ETA 2 hrs. Don’t die without me.

She arrived like fireworks, hiding a shadowed eye under sunglasses. “Beach day! Let’s shop.”

At the mall, Mom bought me “sensible” clothes. Back home, her bag lay on the table, and under her keys, a folded note in her handwriting:

If anything unusual happens today, go to the old well behind the jacaranda. Do not stop. Do not look back. Trust no one but Mina.

I showed Mina. She went pale, pocketed it. “She’s worried.”

Mom appeared, guarded. “There’s a box in the attic… but not now.” Her voice was clipped.

The jacaranda tree was older than me; the bricked-up well behind it was a relic. We went anyway. In a hollow, I found a rusted tin with a key and a silver locket engraved with a crescent and the initials A.B.

My father’s.

Back home, Mom saw the locket and stiffened. “It isn’t safe to tell you everything. Your father was guardian of a covenant—a thing of power that kept doors closed. Watchers want it. They’ve been watching you.”

She showed us a cracked-leather ledger of names and symbols mine marked with the same crescent. “I thought by isolating you, I could keep you safe. But they’re patient.”

Inside the locket was a photo of my father with my brother. In the background: a blurred, faceless figure. Mom’s voice broke. “Some things don’t die when you name them. They only sleep.”

The rest of the day blurred into preparations. Mina refused to leave my side. Mom spoke on the phone in low, measured tones. By the time we headed to the beach, it felt like an escape.

For an hour, the ocean washed everything away. Then a car slowed nearby. The passenger’s gaze lingered on us before they drove off. Mina’s grip on my hand tightened.

Back home, Mom hugged us hard. “You’re stubborn. But you’re mine.”

That night I dreamed of my father at a tunnel mouth, lantern swinging, a crescent door behind him. He mouthed words I couldn’t hear. I woke to find the ledger and locket on the kitchen table with a new note: When it chooses you, do not run.

I wore the locket. Outside, a car passed slowly. The moonlight caught the crescent against my skin. I didn’t know if I’d hide or face it but I knew Mina’s hand, my mother’s sigh, and the watchers’ patience.

Before sleep took me, I noticed a half-burned scrap of paper I hadn’t seen earlier. One word:

Soon.

It felt like both a promise and a threat. The house breathed. The watchers waited.

And I knew tomorrow, everything would change.