Page 72 of Claimed By the Mothman

Ping.Her phone buzzed against the corner of her desk, jerking her out of her reverie. Then she shook her head and bent back over her planner.

Ping. Ping.

Ping ping ping.

She frowned slightly. Curiously, she flipped the phone over. Her thumb hovered, then tapped the screen.

A group chat had sprung back to life—college friends she barely spoke to anymore. At the top of the flurry was a screenshot from Facebook.

Edward. Smiling, slimmer, happier. Wearing a soft linen shirt and standing on the beach behind Elinore. One hand cradled a visible swell beneath her dress. Her other hand? Wearing a diamond.

He proposed!!!the caption read.Baby and I both said yes????

Nell’s brain didn’t quite know what to do. Her vision tunneled, narrowing on the photo like it might blink away if she stared hard enough.

But he hates the beach,she thought, stupidly. He’d loathed sand between his toes. Said the ocean smelled like fish rot and sunscreen.

A knock broke the silence. Goldie’s voice followed, cheerful and innocent: “Hey, lunch order’s going out. You want—”

She stopped.

Nell placed the phone screen-down, like she was putting in time-out.

Goldie’s voice dropped. “Everything okay?”

Nell forced her mouth into a smile. She didn’t trust herself to look at Goldie. “Peanut noodles, please.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” Her voice sparkled like broken glass. “I’ve got a lot to do.”

There was a long pause, then Goldie quietly walked away.

Nell didn’t look at her phone again for the rest of the day.

—

The elevator doors wheezed open with their usual sluggish groan.

Nell stepped out, shoes in one hand, the other gripping her tote like a lifeline. Her hair clung to the back of her neck, her blouse wilted from the weight of a day she hadn’t seen coming.

She got to the door of her apartment and looked down. Her heart lurched. Another offering lay there: Dried rose petals, a smooth piece of amber, and a single white feather.

Her hands shook as she reached for them. Her throat was already closing.

“Hello, Sig,” she said aloud, voice barely audible.

A shadow shifted. “Hello, Nell.”

She flinched so hard she nearly dropped the bundle. He was standing near the end of the hallway, as still and silent as the wallpaper. His presence wasn’t loud—it never was—but it filled the space.

The bundle in her hands suddenly felt like a bomb.

“I heard your heartbreak,” he said gently, “and thought you might need comfort. But I do not always know how to give it.”

He moved another step forward with a tiny click in his throat. “I wish to ease your pain. Would you prefer food? A walk? Would you like to speak, or sit in silence, or—”

His antennae twitched, uncertain. “I will do what you ask. Just…tell me how to help.”