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"Thank you for telling me," I add.

"If that’s all, I’ll be heading out now. Have a good afternoon, Serena."

He smiles, and I return it, watching as he heads toward my front door. My eyes return to the spot where the woman stood.

"Who are you?" I whisper to nothing.

5

SEASONS CHANGE

MONTHS LATER…….

Staring at the window, I barely hear Rey behind me as he continues to get dressed. His workdays are becoming longer, his work trips more frequent. The nightmares have been getting worse, and not even the medicine helps. The sickness has lessened in a way since moving to the house, but my mind—my mind won’t quiet.

I feel like I’m slipping.

And I think he sees it too.

He no longer touches me. Not as his wife. But as an incubator. My hand trembles as I force myself to feel something—anything as my daughter kicks against my palm. But nothing comes. No warmth. No joy. Only dread. Dread for her arrival. Dread for what’s to come.

"Mi Reina, don't wait up for me today."

My eyes follow him as he heads out the door. I try to remember the last time we really talked. The last time he held me. The last time his lips against my cheek meant love, not habit. Now, I stand alone, my heart racing with fears about the future.

My mind is a prison. I can’t speak freely about the terror in this house. I can’t tell him about the affair—the one I know he’s having. I can’t tell him about the dreams. About Josh. Nothing is as it should be, and I don’t know what to do anymore. My body moves on autopilot—first the shower, then my teeth, then food. Then, the nursery. I sit in the rocking chair and stare out the window. My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It feels like hers.

My gaze lifts to my reflection in the window. And she is there. Clinging to me. Her face bloodied, her white dress tattered, her arms draped around my stomach. A wide, knowing smile stretches across her lips as she rubs my belly.

There is no escape from her. Maybe only death.

The air shifts. Colder. I rock slowly, feeling the weight of her presence wrap around me. But there’s another one. Darker. In the shadows. Watching from afar. I see it now. A black, tall shadow stands by the door, waiting. Watching.

I close my eyes. I rock. The air grows thick, suffocating. Then, the voices start.

"No, stop!"

A man’s voice. Frantic. Pleading.

"She’s pregnant! Please?—"

My body keeps rocking. Back. Forth. My eyes remain closed, but I feel it—something evil, something suffocating.

"Please."

A woman now. Her voice shakes with desperation. "Please, spare him."

The air thickens. My stomach churns.

"Take me."

The scent of iron and urine burns my nostrils.

A baby wails.

Then—the smell of burnt flesh.

I open my eyes. And she is there.