The house was silent, the dark wood creaking in the wind.

And the gold key in my hand felt heavier than ever before.

I looked at the man, but he was already walking toward the porch, his boots leaving fresh tracks in the white.

“Evelyn,” he called out without turning around.

“Open the door.”

I walked up the wooden steps, my hand shaking as I inserted the key into the lock.

The lock turned with a heavy, metallic click.

The door swung open, revealing a dark hallway that smelled of pine and old paper.

And on the table near the entrance, a single lamp was burning, its yellow light illuminating a package wrapped in brown paper.

The package was addressed to me.

And the handwriting on the label was Ethan’s.

I reached out my hand to touch the paper, my heart pounding in the quiet room.

And behind me, the sound of the cab driving away echoed through the trees, leaving us alone in the dark house.

The door clicked shut, the lock turning by itself.

And the yellow light of the lamp flickered once, then stayed bright.