If I had known that night was the beginning of the end of my ordinary life, maybe I wouldn't have laughed so easily.
Maybe I would have held on tighter to the quiet moments, the smell of cinnamon sugar on my clothes after work, the sound of Grandma humming old love songs in the kitchen, the way Lila threw her head back when she laughed.
But the thing about fate is, it doesn't knock before it enters. It just comes crashing in.
The next morning started like any other. I woke to the sound of clattering pans downstairs, Grandpa muttering curses under his breath about a stubborn oven door. The smell of fresh bread filled the air, warm and comforting.
But when I looked out my window, the sky felt… wrong.
It was too dark for morning, clouds thick and heavy like a storm was brewing. A chill ran through me, sharp enough to raise the hairs on my arms.
"Strange," I whispered to myself.
I pushed the thought away, dressing quickly and tying my apron before heading downstairs.
"Morning, love," Grandma greeted me with her usual smile, flour dusting her hair like snow. "Grab the basket, would you? We've got orders for the market today."
I nodded, grabbing the wicker basket and filling it with loaves of bread wrapped neatly in brown paper. I tried to focus on the routine bread, pastries, muffins, but the unease clung to me like smoke.
When I finally stepped outside, the air was thick, heavy. The city felt quieter than usual, as if the storm looming above had stolen everyone's voices.
At the market, Lila found me almost instantly.
"You look pale," she said, looping her arm through mine. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"No," I admitted. "Just… I don't know. Something feels off today."
She raised an eyebrow. "Off, how?"
I hesitated, not wanting to sound ridiculous. "Like… like something's coming."
Lila laughed, nudging me with her shoulder. "Aria, you've been reading too many of those old storybooks again. Nothing ever happens in this boring city."
"Maybe that's the problem," I muttered.
By afternoon, the storm finally broke. Rain poured over the cobblestone streets, scattering market stalls and drenching everyone unlucky enough to be caught outside.
I was one of them.
Clutching the basket of bread to my chest, I sprinted down the street, water soaking through my shoes and plastering my hair to my face. I ducked into an alley for shelter, pressing my back against the wall as thunder rolled across the sky.
And that's when I felt it.
The air shifted.
The world seemed to still.
It wasn't the rain. It wasn't the storm. It was something deeper, something ancient, brushing against the edges of my soul like icy fingers. My heart raced, breath caught in my throat.
Then eyes.
I swear I felt them before I saw them. A presence, heavy and suffocating, watching me from somewhere I couldn't see. My gaze darted through the shadows of the alley, but there was nothing there.
Still… I wasn't alone.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Every creak of the old house made me jolt. Every gust of wind against the window made me think of those invisible eyes.
Finally, I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest. "You're being ridiculous, Aria," I whispered. "Just nerves. Just the storm."
But deep down, I knew it wasn't.
Because the storm outside had passed.
The storm inside me was just beginning.