The solid ground beneath my feet felt as though it were trembling.
The stalker who had nearly taken my breath away yesterday—
the one who had made me terrified of even the passing shadows in front of our house—
was now standing directly at our door…
asking for my brother by name.
'How does he know him? And what does he want?'
I couldn't decide—
Should I scream and expose him in front of everyone?
Tell them that the stalker was standing right before me?
Or swallow my silence?
"Mariam, who is it?"
My brother's voice cut through my thoughts as he pulled the door from my hand and opened it wider to see who it was.
"Ugh… it's cold outside."
The stalker breathed white mist into his hands as he rubbed them together.
"Who—? …Ah, Anas! Welcome. Come in, come in."
My brother greeted him with a welcoming tone that did not match his expression at all, then led him into the living room.
"Who is he?" I whispered.
"An old friend. It's been a long time since I last saw him… Go and bring some tea."
It wasn't strange for an old friend to visit suddenly.
What was strange… was my brother's expression.
It was tense. Aggressive.
Not the kind of expression one wears while welcoming a guest.
I headed toward the kitchen to prepare tea.
When I touched the kettle, it was already hot—ready to make a cup immediately.
But I delayed on purpose.
I wanted to catch a fragment of their conversation.
Who was this man?
And why did my brother look like that?
I approached the living room door carefully, hoping to catch a word or two.
I heard nothing.
I moved closer, trying to snatch anything—
but still heard nothing.
Were they whispering?
Was it so serious that he had come to my brother at such a late hour—only to whisper?
I carried the tray.
The tea was lukewarm—
as if it were rejecting this unwanted guest.
I didn't walk in immediately.
Instead, I moved quietly, trying to steal a glance at the two people sitting inside.
For a moment, the tray almost slipped from my hand.
'What is this?'
Before me was something unnatural.
He and my brother were sitting across from each other.
That was all.
That was everything.
That was why I heard nothing.
Not because they were whispering—
but because they weren't speaking at all.
My brother, with his tense expression.
The other, with that slimy smile.
A conversation was taking place between their eyes.
A conversation I knew nothing about.
This was more frightening than the disappearance of the hair beneath my desk.
I decided to interrupt this disturbing silent dialogue—
but just as I arrived:
"Now, if you'll excuse me."
The strange guest stood up, asking for permission to leave.
"You're leaving this quickly? At least stay and have your tea."
My brother insisted he remain.
Strange insistence.
He didn't look like he wanted him to stay at all.
The unwelcome guest glanced at his watch and said firmly,
"It's late now. Perhaps another time."
He rushed toward the door—
and collided with me.
The cup fell from my hand.
"Careful!"
He caught it midway—
but it was too late.
Its lukewarm contents had already spilled all over him.
The cup was doomed anyway…
even if he hadn't drunk from it.
"I'm sorry—I didn't notice. A tissue—just a second!"
I hurried to bring something to clean the mess—
but he blocked my way.
"It's fine."
Then he whispered something that froze the blood in my veins:
"You need it more than I do…
There's something disgusting and black stuck to you."
His comment left me stunned.
I didn't move for a while.
What did he mean?
I examined myself from head to toe.
There was nothing black on me.
…Unless—
Was he talking about the fuzzy ball?
'Can he see it?!'
When I finally regained my senses, it was already too late.
He had closed the door and left.
'Wait!'
I rushed toward the door.
I wanted to ask him:
'Can you really see the black ball?'
But wherever I looked—
there was nothing but the darkness of night
and the bare trees welcoming the arrival of winter.
When I returned to the living room, my brother was still standing there, his face frozen.
He didn't snap out of it until I nudged his hand.
"Zain…"
His expression loosened slightly.
"I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."
I reached out quickly, trying to grab his shirt to question him about that man—
but he left,
and my hand closed around empty air.
As soon as I entered my room with heavy steps and collapsed onto the bed,
the scene began replaying in my mind—
until it stopped at those poisoned words:
'Something black is stuck to you.'
My thoughts erupted like storms,
forcing my eyes to search everywhere—
for that darkness he could see,
and I could no longer find.
Whenever fear or tension struck me, I used to spin my spinner.
The sight of its rotating wings would condense my thoughts and rearrange them.
But now—
the poor spinner could no longer bear the weight of these events.
It no longer knew how to arrange anything—
or what needed arranging.
The sound of a car engine pulled me from my thoughts—
announcing departure.
As my brother stood one step away from the car, he turned and looked toward the second-floor window.
He didn't see my face hidden behind the curtains—
but he expected me to be there.
He waved goodbye.
And once the roar of the engine faded into the distance—
the curtains fell
on an era of safety,
and the beginning of a new chapter of horror…
and a long winter