Even after the call ended, Emma stood still unable to breath for a moment.
Her hand was trembling. Her heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. That cold, whispering voice still echoed in her ears—
"Don't trust Hena Carter."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Outside, the rain came down harder, tapping against the windows in restless waves. Thunder rumbled in the distance, circling the old house like a warning. In the dim light, everyone suddenly felt unfamiliar to Emma.
She slowly lowered the phone.
"They said…" Her throat was dry. "They said I shouldn't trust Hena."
As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes moved to Hena.
Hena stood completely still. There was exhaustion on her face, fear hidden deep in her eyes, and yet something painfully familiar remained in her expression. Familiar enough to twist something inside Emma's chest. But at the same time, the call from the unknown number kept stabbing at her thoughts.
Adrian stepped forward first.
"You see?" he said in a low voice. "I told you from the beginning—something is wrong. Someone is playing with us."
Jay stood leaning against the wall, calm as ever. Too calm.
"Or," he said quietly, "someone doesn't want the truth to come out."
Adrian turned sharply toward him.
"You always talk like you know more than you should."
Jay gave a small shrug.
"I'm only saying what I've seen."
Emma looked at him immediately.
"Then say it. Tell us what really happened that night."
Before Jay could answer, Hena spoke.
"The truth doesn't come all at once, Emma."
Emma's gaze locked onto her sister.
"Then you tell me. Where have you been all this time? Why didn't you come back? We all thought you…" Her voice broke. "…we thought you were dead."
For a few seconds, Hena said nothing. Then she spoke very softly.
"Because I couldn't come back."
Emma's chest tightened.
"What does that mean?"
Hena took a slow breath.
"That night, I fell. Yes. But I was still alive. I don't remember everything clearly… only footsteps. Someone was there. Very close. And then everything went dark."
The air in the room seemed to turn colder.
Adrian clenched his jaw.
"That proves nothing. Broken memories are not evidence."
"And yet," Jay said calmly, "her memory is still more useful than your explanations."
Adrian's expression darkened.
"Would you shut up?"
Jay said nothing. He only looked back at him.
Emma noticed it.
Through all of this, Jay had not looked shaken once. No fear. No panic. No visible confusion. It was a small thing, almost invisible—but it left a thin line of unease in Emma's mind.
She turned to Hena again.
"You said that night wasn't an accident."
Hena lifted her eyes.
"No. It wasn't."
"Then what was it?"
Hena's voice dropped to a whisper.
"It was a trap."
A chill ran through Emma's body.
"A trap?"
"Someone wanted me to disappear," Hena said. "They wanted everyone to believe I was dead. And that person knew exactly who would be in the house that night… and where."
After saying that, she fell silent again.
Emma could feel it—Hena still was not telling them everything. But even what she had said was enough to make the room feel darker.
"Do you know who did it?" Emma asked.
Hena looked at her for a few long moments.
"I don't know the name. But I know one thing."
She slowly turned her head toward the staircase.
"The truth is still inside this house."
Emma's voice became almost a whisper.
"Where?"
"Upstairs."
The word changed the silence in the room.
Adrian spoke at once.
"No."
Emma turned to him.
"Why?"
"Because there's no reason to go up there right now," Adrian said. "You're already upset."
Emma's eyes hardened.
"Or is there something up there you don't want me to see?"
Adrian paused.
"That's not what I said."
Jay spoke then, his voice quiet and steady.
"The truth stays buried only until someone dares to open the door."
Emma felt that strange discomfort again. The words sounded right, but there was something about the certainty in Jay's tone—as if he already knew what they would find.
Hena looked at Emma.
"Come on."
Emma moved toward the stairs. Each step creaked beneath her feet. The upper part of the house was even colder than the floor below—darker, quieter, as if the air itself had been holding its breath for years.
At the end of the hallway stood a door.
Half-open.
Emma stopped.
"It was supposed to be locked…"
"It was," Hena said softly.
Jay stepped forward and placed a hand against the door. With the slightest push, it opened with a long, dry creak.
Adrian turned on his phone flashlight, and the beam slid across the room.
It was small and old. Dust covered the corners. Spider webs clung to the walls. The curtain by the window hung torn and motionless. There was a wooden bed, an old wardrobe, and a chair lying on its side.
And beside the bed—
A silver pendant.
Emma's breath caught.
"That's…"
"Mine," Hena said.
Emma bent down and picked it up carefully. She brushed away the dust with her thumb, and the engraving beneath it became visible.
E & H
Her eyes filled instantly.
"I gave this to you…"
Hena's voice held the faintest trace of pain.
"On my sixteenth birthday."
For one brief second, Emma wanted to believe. This was real. This was her sister. No one outside the family should have known about the pendant.
But then Jay spoke.
"That could have been planted too."
Everyone turned toward him.
Hena's eyes went cold.
"You seem very eager to make sure Emma doesn't trust me."
Jay gave a faint smile.
"I just don't want her trusting the wrong person."
Emma said nothing. But the unease inside her grew.
Adrian swept the flashlight toward the wardrobe. Something was caught underneath it.
He crouched down and pulled out a torn piece of paper.
"What is this?"
Emma took it from him.
A diary page.
Half of it had been ripped away. But the remaining words, written in shaky handwriting, were still readable.
"…I saw him. Everyone trusts him. That is the most frightening part…"
Emma's throat tightened.
"Him? Who is 'him'?"
Hena stared at the page. Then, very slowly, she said,
"This handwriting… it feels familiar."
"Where have you seen it?" Emma asked quickly.
Hena looked up.
"Before that night."
Adrian let out a frustrated breath.
"This still proves nothing."
"No," Jay said. "But it proves that someone already knew there was a dangerous person inside the house."
Emma looked at him directly.
"You keep saying things like that as if you already have a theory."
Jay was silent for a moment. Then he said,
"I have a theory. Not proof."
The answer should have sounded normal.
It didn't.
Adrian pulled open the lower drawer of the wardrobe, and a small box slid out.
"There's more."
Emma looked at him.
"How did you know that was there?"
Adrian stopped for half a second.
"The drawer was loose. That's all."
Jay said nothing, but his eyes were fixed on the box in a way Emma did not like.
She opened it carefully.
Inside was an old key, a dried flower, and a photograph.
Emma lifted the photo into the light.
Two little girls stood in the picture—young Emma and Hena. Behind them stood an adult figure. But the face had been ruined with black ink, completely scratched out.
Emma's fingers went cold.
"Who is that?"
Hena stared at the photo for a long moment.
"I… can't remember the face."
Jay spoke softly.
"Turn it over. Maybe something's written on the back."
Emma flipped the photo.
A single line had been written in black ink.
"Trust the one who speaks the least."
The room went silent again.
No one spoke immediately.
Finally Adrian frowned.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"The one who says less," Hena said slowly, "may be hiding more."
Jay looked at her.
"Or the one who says too much may be trying to lead you in the wrong direction."
Emma felt a shiver crawl through her. That one sentence made everyone seem more suspicious, not less. No one in this room felt completely clean anymore.
Then—
Her phone buzzed.
The sound was so sharp in the silence that it made all of them flinch.
Emma pulled it out quickly.
Unknown number.
Her fingers trembled.
There was only one line on the screen.
"He was there that night."
Emma felt the air leave her lungs.
"What does it say?" Adrian asked.
She read it aloud.
And again, silence.
He.
But who?
Adrian?
Jay?
Or someone they had not even begun to think about?
A violent flash of lightning filled the room.
For one second, Emma saw Hena staring directly at Jay.
And Jay—
He didn't move.
Only the faintest curve touched the corner of his mouth.
So slight that Emma could not tell whether it was real… or just a trick of the light.
But a cold wave passed through her body.
Then, from the hallway outside, came the sound of heavy footsteps.
Slow.
Once.
Then again.
Everyone turned toward the doorway at the same time.
The corridor was dark. The rain pounded against the windows. And those footsteps…
It sounded as though someone was standing just outside the door.
Waiting.
Emma's lips parted, but her throat had gone dry.
"Who's there…?"
No one answered.
Only silence.
And inside that silence, Emma realized something for the first time—
Hena's return was not just a shock.
It had opened a door.
And behind that door was something far darker than any of them had imagined.
To be continued…