For a long, breathless moment, Aria could only stare at the front door, the splintered wood trembling from the force of the fight happening on the other side. The silver glow leaking from beneath it flickered like moonlight on stormy water. Her mind spun, her body frozen in place. A stranger trying to break in. Another stranger stopping him. A voice from her dreams. None of it made sense.
But then—The fighting stopped.
Silence fell.
Heavy. Thick. Suffocating.
Aria clutched the edge of the kitchen counter as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The silence stretched, long enough that she wondered if the men were simply standing there, waiting for her next move.
Then—
Soft footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Moving away from her door.
Aria's breath caught.
She dared a whisper. "Hello?"
No answer.
Just one last sound—a faint rustle, like something being placed on the ground—and then a cold, hollow stillness.
Her phone buzzed.
A new message from the unknown number:
Unknown Number:Do not open the door until I am gone.
Her shoulders tensed. Her fingers tightened around the device.
Gone?
Gone where?Who was he?What had just happened?
Aria swallowed hard. She stared at the message for several seconds before another vibration made her jump.
Unknown Number:When you open the door, you'll understand everything. But you must not panic.
Panic?
Her heart was already beating fast enough to crack her ribs.
Her trembling fingers hovered over the keypad.
She typed: Who are you? What do you want? What was that fight?
But the message wouldn't send.
No signal.
Of course.
She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and forced her legs to move. Every step toward the door felt like stepping deeper into a nightmare.
But nightmares didn't ring your doorbell.Nightmares didn't whisper your name.Nightmares didn't leave messages promising answers.
Nightmares didn't leave… things.
Her stomach twisted as she reached the door.
The hallway was silent. Too silent.
Aria closed her hand around the doorknob. It felt cold—unnaturally cold, as if frost had spread through the metal. She took a steadying breath and turned the lock slowly. It clicked weakly, damaged by the earlier attempts to force it open.
She pulled the door inward.
A rush of cold air swept into her home, carrying winter with it.
And there—right on her welcome mat—lay the last thing she expected to find.
A baby.
A real baby.
Wrapped in a thick, snowy-white blanket, soft as freshly fallen snow. A tiny hat covered its head, and its cheeks glowed warm pink against the frosty air. The infant looked no more than a few months old—small, fragile, and impossibly perfect.
Aria gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh my God."
The baby was quiet. Peaceful. Wide awake.
As if waiting.
Aria knelt slowly, as though afraid the slightest movement might shatter the moment. Her breath shook as she reached out with trembling fingers.
The instant her hand touched the edge of the blanket, the baby lifted its tiny arm—small, delicate fingers curling around hers with complete trust.
Warm.
Alive.
Real.
Her heart squeezed painfully.
"Who… who are you, little one?" she whispered.
The baby blinked up at her with large eyes—deep, striking, impossible to look away from. They weren't the typical soft blue of newborns. No. These eyes were clear, intense, shimmering like molten silver under the hallway light.
Silver.
Just like the eyes from her dream.
Her breath stopped.
The baby's small lips parted, and it made a soft sound—a tiny sigh that melted straight into her chest.
"Oh God," Aria whispered. Tears pricked her vision. "What is happening?"
A small envelope peeked from beneath the baby's blanket. White. Thin. Her name written on the front in ink dark as night.
Not just "Aria.""Aria Sterling."
Her full name.
Her formal name.
Her legal name.
Her lungs tightened. She carefully slid the envelope out and opened it with shaking hands.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A hospital paternity test report.
Her eyes scanned the text.
Father: ————The name was blacked out.
But the second line made her blood run cold.
Mother: Aria Sterling — confirmed.
Confirmed.
Mother.
Her vision blurred. "No… no, that's impossible. That's not—this can't—"
The baby squeezed her finger.
Her breath hitched.
Another sheet was folded behind the first—an ultrasound photo. Date-stamped. Time-stamped. Medical data printed neatly at the top.
Except—Aria had never been pregnant.Never had morning sickness.Never skipped a menstrual cycle.Never felt a kick, a flutter, anything.
But the ultrasound…
Was hers.
Her name.Her birthdate.Her patient ID number.
"Impossible," she whispered. "Impossible."
Her head spun. She forced herself to breathe.
This had to be a mistake. A sick joke. A nightmare—
The baby let out a quiet coo, the sweet sound yanking her out of her spiraling thoughts. As if sensing her distress, it reached out again, its tiny palm resting on her wrist with surprising warmth.
Her chest tightened painfully.
In that moment—one breathtaking, impossible moment—Aria felt something snap inside her.Something shift.Something tether itself to her heart.
An overwhelming surge of protectiveness washed through her like a tidal wave.
She scooped the baby gently into her arms, holding it close to her chest. The infant fit against her perfectly, as though made to rest there.
The cold hallway faded. The fear faded. Everything faded.
Except the baby.
Aria inhaled shakily. "I don't know who you are," she whispered, voice cracking, "or how any of this is real… but I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
The baby blinked slowly, as if satisfied.
Then Aria noticed something else—another envelope tucked deeper inside the blanket, barely visible. Her stomach twisted as she pulled it free.
This one had no name.Just a symbol.
A snowflake drawn with six sharp points—beautiful and intricate.
And beneath it, one line written in rushing, hurried handwriting:
"He knows. You must hide."
Aria's heart struck her ribs.
Hide?
From who?
Why?
Her pulse spiked. She clutched the baby tighter.
A cold breeze swept down the hallway, carrying with it a faint metallic scent—as though the fight that took place moments ago had left invisible traces.
She lifted her head.
The hallway was empty.
Silent.
But her instincts screamed otherwise.
She wasn't alone.
She felt eyes.Watching.Waiting.
Her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
A message from the unknown number:
Unknown Number:Don't go back inside yet. He's still there.
Aria's breath stopped.
Still there?
Where?
Her hands tightened protectively around the baby as she spun toward the open doorway of her home, staring into the dimly lit interior.
Everything looked normal.
Quiet.
Still.
But the message sent a cold shiver up her spine.
She whispered, barely audible, "Who's still where?"
Her phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number:Behind you.
Aria froze.
She didn't dare turn around.
The baby whimpered softly against her chest.
And the cold breath she felt on the back of her neck—
did not belong to her.
Cliffhanger continues…