Clara glanced at Willa’s phone, the repeated “FULL” warnings reflecting on her face.
“Yeah… looks like nothing’s available nearby,” she said, tone lowering.
She exchanged a brief look with Patrick, as if silently consulting him, and then said, “If you don’t mind, you could stay at our place for one night.”
“We happen to be the landlords,” Patrick added. “There’s a room free right now.”
Willa hesitated. “Wouldn’t that be… too much trouble for you?”
“Not at all,” Patrick smiled, “just for one night. You look completely exhausted anyway.”
And he was right. Since boarding the train, her whole day had been thrown into chaos—constant rushing, nerves frayed to the edge. All she wanted now was a hot shower, a clean change of clothes, and a proper bed. There was no other option nearby anyway.
“All right… I guess I’ll trouble you for one night,” Willa finally nodded.
“No trouble at all. That’s what friends are for!” Patrick said, taking her suitcase and rolling it ahead. Clara linked her arm with Willa’s, pointing to a nearby bus stop.
“About half an hour on the bus. We’ll show you around once we get there.”
Their warmth and openness caught her off guard. Willa felt a lump in her throat. Even strangers could extend such kindness.
They rode the bus together. When they arrived at the stop, the area was unnervingly quiet. A lone streetlight flickered above the bus stop, illuminating the few passengers getting on or off.
Willa’s unease grew, but Patrick and Clara walked casually toward a nearby apartment building. Inside, the corridor light was soft and warm, footsteps echoing gently.
Patrick unlocked a door and stepped inside, revealing a neat, cozy living room. “That room at the far end is the guest room,” he said. “You can rest there tonight.”
Willa entered the room. The bed was neatly made, and a faint, pleasant scent lingered in the air.
So thoughtful… she thought.
Clara’s voice was casual, as if this were normal, “We often have friends stay overnight, so we always keep a guest room ready.”
Willa’s chest loosened with relief. “Thank you so much. You’ve really helped me a lot.”
“No worries. Go rest! Good night.”
“Good night.”
The door closed softly behind them, leaving Willa alone.
She sat on the bed, checking her itinerary from start to finish—tickets, accommodations, times—every detail meticulously confirmed.
Her nerves from earlier made her hyperaware of every little thing.
An hour passed.
Her eyes stung. She set the phone aside, leaned against the bed, and closed her eyes. All the necessary checks had been made; everything that needed adjusting had been adjusted. She could finally pause.
Willa realized she was covered in sweat. Time to change and finally rest.
She crouched and opened her suitcase, reaching for a fresh set of clothes.
Then—a sudden, inexplicable unease surged over her.
For the past hour, she had felt it: someone was watching her.
At first, she thought it was just travel fatigue making her paranoid. But even as she calmed herself and tried to rationalize, the sensation persisted—shadowing her like a ghost.
Her movements froze. She held her breath and carefully scanned the room: walls, windows, door locks—all perfectly normal.
Until her gaze fell on the full-length mirror in the corner.
The reflection was clear—but there was something unnatural in its depth, as if another space existed behind it.
Alarm bells rang in her mind.
She stepped closer and gently touched the frame.
Behind the mirror… was a hidden room.
In the dark, cramped space, Patrick sat, motionless, staring at her.
To be continued...
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