Amelia Harlow
The sound of rain has always mesmerized me. The drumming of raindrops against the window of my room always felt comforting, almost like a lullaby sung by nature itself.
But tonight, the rain doesn't feel soothing. Tonight, it sounds like a siren that might wail on doomsday. It's been only two days since Nathan and I got married, two days since we promised eternity. This is my second night in the Ashford Mansion, the house that is supposed to be my new home.
The mansion is grand, overwhelming even, with its towering ceilings and walls that seem to hold centuries of secrets. The room I now sleep in is spacious, almost too spacious than my older one. Its silence presses down on me. There are three large windows on the wall, letting in the continuous tapping of rain, each drop hitting the glass as though begging for entry. The sound should soothe me, but instead it gnaws at me. The rain is growing heavier and angrier.
I was waiting for Nathan. He was supposed to be here. He usually came around 9 p.m. , but tonight the clock had already slipped past 09:10, and still, no sign of him. The business his father owned was enormous and demanding. Even after marriage, he went to the office the very next day because of the work load his father put on him, leaving me alone in this gigantic room. I heard footsteps in the hall. For a moment, I was sure it was Nathan. But the silence that followed told me I was wrong.
I stood before the mirror, running a comb slowly through my damp hair, when I noticed it-the silence. Not the comforting kind. The kind that unsettles you. The kind that makes your skin prickle. Too quiet, except for the pounding rain. My heart skipped a beat.
Then-
A sound.
Not loud. Not even clear. Just enough to make me stop, my hand frozen in my hair, the comb caught halfway.
A thud. Then a voice. A man's voice-low, sharp, deliberate. It cut through the storm like a blade.
"Amelia..."
My name.
Then came a shriek-high, jagged, and soul-piercing-that didn't sound human at all.
My chest tightened. I didn't know who had spoken. I didn't want to know. My heart begged me not to.
The comb slipped from my fingers, clattering against the floor. My pulse pounded in my ears as I rushed toward the window, pressing my palms against the cold glass. For a moment, all I saw was distortion-the rain, the dark, the reflections of my own frightened eyes.
Then lightning tore open the sky.
In that single blinding flash, the world outside revealed itself.
A crowd. People in raincoats, each one holding a torch that glowed weak and ghostlike in the thunderstorm. And in the center of them all-someone. Someone lying still. Covered in blood.
That sight alone was enough to shatter me.
Nathan.
He was lying there. On the ground. Motionless.
My breath caught in my throat. No. No, this couldn't be happening. Not him. Not now. Not two days into forever.
I ran. The heavy doors of the mansion groaned as I flung them open, and the cold rain slammed into me with merciless force. It was hitting my face like needles, soaking me instantly. My slippers slipped on the marble steps, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered except reaching him. The world tilted, the thunder roared, and my body moved on instinct.
I fell to my knees beside him.
"Wake up," I whispered, my voice trembling, barely recognizable as mine. My hands shook violently as I touched his arm. It was wet-more with blood than with rain. His skin, pale and icy, was already too cold.
"Nathan," I cried, the name leaving my lips like a broken prayer. My tears mixed with the rain as I put his head in my lap, the blood smearing across my hands. His face was still, his eyes open, staring at me with a haunting emptiness that made my heart crumble.
And then I screamed.
A sound ripped from my throat that I didn't even know I could make, a raw sound that tore at the storm itself.
The world blurred. My mind refused to process. I felt nothing and everything at once. I was numb, yet burning. Nathan's bloodied head lay in my lap, his lifeless eyes fixed on mine. They looked as though they were trying-desperately-to tell me something. To warn me. To comfort me. I didn't know. I only knew I couldn't look away.
I rocked him in my arms like a child. "Please, please come back. Please, Nathan. Don't leave me. Not like this."
Voices gathered. Footsteps closed in. The Ashford family appeared, cloaked in raincoats, torches flickering in their hands. Their faces were streaked with rain and tears.
His mother collapsed beside me, clutching her face in trembling hands, sobbing, rocking him back and forth as if the sheer force of love could drag him back from death. His father stood stiff, frozen, his eyes wide, lips trembling with words that never came out.
Nathan's siblings stood in a line before us, their faces illuminated by the unsteady torchlight. Some wept openly, their sobs sharp and raw. Others stared in silence, their faces unreadable. One or two cried without tears, their expressions twisted into something strange-something almost performative.
And me-
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
The rain poured harder, drowning everything, and the thunder split the night in violent bursts. My body trembled, but I clutched Nathan tighter, as though I could shield him from the storm, from death itself.
And then-faint, far away-something else.
I heard someone laughing.
Low. Cold. Carried on the wind.
Or maybe it wasn't real. Maybe it was only in my head.
But deep down, a part of me knew-it wasn't.