THE HOUSE ON OYELERAN STREET

Amara saw someone standing in the upstairs window. She blinked. The figure was gone. She leaned closer to the car window and stared at the old house ahead of them. Nothing. Only a dark, empty window. “Amara?” She turned. Her father was looking at her through the rear-view mirror. “What?” “You've been staring at that house for a while.” Amara looked away. “I thought I saw someone.” Richard's expression changed for a second. “Someone?” “Yeah. In the upstairs window.” He didn't answer. Instead, he looked back at the road. Amara frowned. Her father had been acting strange ever since they entered the town. She turned toward the window again. The streets passed slowly as their car moved through the small town. Amara was seventeen. She had left her friends behind in the city, and she still wasn't happy about it. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to start over. And she definitely didn't want to live in some old house she'd never seen before. Still, there was something about the house that made her curious. “It was your grandfather's house,” her mother, Grace, said from the front seat. “He built it a long time ago. Now it belongs to us.” Tobi bounced excitedly beside Amara. “Is it big? Does it have a garden? Can I climb things?” “You will see,” Richard said. “That's not an answer.” “It never is with Dad,” Amara muttered. Tobi laughed. The car turned onto Oyelaran Street. A few seconds later, Richard slowed down. Then he stopped. Amara looked up. There it was. The house. It stood behind a large iron gate. It had two floors, faded paint, and tall windows that seemed to stare down at them. Amara's stomach tightened. She looked at the upstairs window again. The same one. Nothing was there. “Here we are,” Richard said. His voice was quieter this time. Tobi quickly opened his door. “Finally!” He jumped out before Grace could stop him. “Careful!” she called. Amara stepped out slowly. She looked up at the house. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen it before. Not in real life. Somewhere else. In a dream, maybe. She pushed the thought away. It was just an old house. Nothing more. Richard got out and walked toward the gate. He stopped before opening it. For several seconds, he simply stood there. Amara watched him. “Dad?” Richard didn't respond. He was staring at the house. Not admiring it. Not remembering it. It looked like he was afraid of it. Then he quickly reached for the gate. It opened with a loud creak. Grace winced. “We'll need to oil that.” “First thing tomorrow,” Richard said. Amara noticed that he still hadn't looked at the upstairs window. She followed her family into the compound. The grass was tall and overgrown. A large mango tree stood in one corner. Tobi immediately ran toward it. “Can I climb it?” “After we carry the boxes,” Richard called. “That's not fair!” “Life isn't fair. Carry the boxes.” Tobi groaned. Grace laughed. For a moment, everything felt normal. Almost. Amara looked back at the house. One of the upstairs curtains moved. She froze. There was no wind. “Amara?” She turned. Tobi was standing beside her. “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” She looked back. The curtain was still. Amara swallowed. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe the long journey had made her tired. She picked up one of the boxes and followed her family toward the house. But just before she entered, she heard something. A faint sound. Like someone whispering her name. “Amara…” She stopped. Her heart began to beat faster. She turned around. The compound was empty. “Tobi?” He was already inside. “Amara, are you coming?” She looked at the upstairs window one last time. Nothing. She stepped through the doorway. Behind her, the front door slowly creaked shut. And from somewhere upstairs came another whisper. Welcome home Amara....