Aria did not breathe.
She couldn't.
For a long, paralyzing moment, she stood frozen in the doorway, the baby held tightly against her chest, her heartbeat louder than the wind outside. The hallway light flickered above her, buzzing faintly, and the whisper of cold air brushing her neck made every hair on her skin stand upright.
She didn't turn around.
She couldn't.
The message still burned on her screen:
Behind you.
Her throat constricted. Her knees weakened. The baby shifted in her arms, unaware of the terror suffocating the air.
She swallowed hard—forcing herself to inhale, slow and shaky.
"Don't… move," Aria whispered to herself. "Don't panic."
But the chills crawling down her spine said that the presence behind her wasn't a product of fear. It was real. Solid. Watching.
Very slowly, Aria stepped back into the hall, away from the threshold of her apartment, away from the darkened interior where danger might be lurking. She kept her eyes forward, as if staring hard enough might make the message untrue.
The baby whimpered softly against her chest, pressing a tiny hand into the fabric of her sweater.
Aria kept stepping back until her heels hit the wall behind her.
She risked a whisper. "Please… please don't hurt us."
Silence.
Then—
A faint shift of air.A soft exhale.Or was it the building settling?
She didn't dare find out.
The baby suddenly squirmed, reaching its hand outward—as if toward something beside her. Aria looked down, her breath hitching.
The baby's fingers brushed an object on the floor, right next to her shoe.
A white envelope.
Her stomach twisted sharply.
The baby wasn't reaching toward danger.
It was reaching toward that envelope.
Aria bent slowly, carefully, every muscle trembling, and picked it up.
It was thick. Sealed. A faint scent of winter pine clung to it. The same scent she remembered from her dream—the one where the shadowed man whispered her name in the snow.
There was no name on the envelope.But it wasn't blank.
Across the center, written in elegant, hurried handwriting, were two words:
For Aria.
Her pulse hammered. She clutched the envelope tightly with one hand while cradling the baby with the other. The edges were slightly damp, as if it had been placed there only moments ago.
The presence behind her—if it existed—did nothing.
No movement.No sound.
Aria forced herself to take a shaky breath. She slid along the wall, inching backward, moving toward the hallway's brighter end.
The unknown presence didn't follow.
When she reached the stairs leading to the lobby, she finally dared to turn around.
No one was there.
The hallway was empty.
Silent.
Still.
Her door hung open, the lock splintered from the earlier assault. The shadows inside her apartment looked darker than usual—as if holding their breath.
She whispered, "Oh God…" and held the baby closer.
Now in clearer light, the envelope seemed heavier. As if whatever was inside carried weight far beyond paper.
She descended the stairs quickly, her steps echoing in the stairwell. With every floor she passed, her breathing steadied—slightly, but enough.
When she reached the lobby, the guard wasn't there. His desk was empty, the chair pushed back. She rang the bell, calling out softly, "Hello? Mr. Patel? Are you there?"
No response.
The lobby was as empty as the upstairs hallway.
Something was wrong. Something everywhere was wrong.
Aria didn't stop moving until she reached the far corner of the lobby beneath the emergency light. Only then did she finally sink onto the couch, adjusting the baby in her arms.
The infant gazed up at her with those piercing silver eyes, calm as though the world hadn't just tilted off its axis.
"You're not even scared, huh?" she whispered.
The baby blinked.
The envelope in her hand suddenly felt warm.
She hesitated.
After everything that had happened—the dream, the fight outside, the baby on her doorstep, the paternity test—the envelope felt like the final thread in a web she couldn't yet see.
With trembling fingers, she broke the seal.
A folded letter slid out, along with something heavier—a small chain necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake, identical to the symbol from the previous note.
Her heart raced.
She unfolded the letter.
The handwriting was neat, rushed, and unmistakably personal.
Aria,You don't know me yet, but your life is about to change.This child is not abandoned.He is in danger.And so are you.
Aria's breath caught.
You are the only one he is safe with.The test is real.He is yours.Believe what you've seen.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
I wish I could explain more, but they are watching.They found you once.They will again.
Her heart pounded.
Do not trust anyone.Not the police.Not your family.Not your building staff.No one.
A cold shiver tore down her spine.
Most importantly—do not let the wrong man claim to be his father.He will come.He always does.And when he finds you, he will take everything.
Her throat tightened painfully.
The next line shattered her.
I will return for you both when it is safe.Until then… protect him.And remember—you wished for a miracle.This is the one fate sent you.
Aria's eyes blurred.
Her wish.Her Christmas wish.Every year.Since childhood.
No.No, this wasn't possible.
She looked at the baby, who reached up and grabbed the snowflake pendant with surprising certainty.
"How do you know what to hold?" she whispered.
The baby cooed softly, as if answering.
Her tears trembled on her lashes.
"Who are you really?" she whispered to the child.
Before she could steady herself, before she could breathe, something fell from the folded letter—something she hadn't noticed tucked inside.
A photograph.
Aria lifted it carefully.
Her lungs collapsed.
It was her.Taken recently.Standing under the Sterling Christmas tree last year.Making her annual silent wish.
She remembered that night perfectly.
She remembered being alone.
But in the photo—She wasn't alone.
A man stood behind her.A shadowed silhouette.Tall. Broad-shouldered.Head lowered toward her as if whispering something.
Her stomach twisted. Her vision blurred.
"The man from my dream," she whispered.
The baby squeezed her sweater.
Her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, making her jump. She fumbled it out.
A new message from the unknown number:
I left you the envelope for a reason.But you didn't listen.
Her heart plummeted.
Another message arrived instantly.
Don't go back upstairs.He's awake.
Aria's breath froze.
"He?" she whispered. "Who—?"
The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open.
Someone stepped out.
Someone whose presence made the baby stiffen in her arms.
Aria's heart slammed into her ribs.
And the last thing she saw before panic took over—
was the man's eyes.
Silver.
Just like the baby's.
Cliffhanger continues…