The trip was supposed to end sweetly. Ethan and Maya were headed home after visiting Maya's older sister Jasmine for her wedding. Two more hours out of a seven hour drive and they'd be home, asleep in their own bed. Instead, Ethan's knuckles were white around the steering wheel. His jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
The cab of the truck was thick with silence, broken only by the dull hiss of the tires on asphalt. Maya stared out the passenger-side window, face unreadable in the glow of oncoming headlights.
When neon cut through the fog up ahead, Ethan flicked on the blinker. A truckstop diner squatted in the mist, its sign buzzing pink and blue against the night. A handful of semis idled nearby, their parking lights glowing dim red like coals in a dying fire.
He pulled in and parked near the entrance. Neither of them moved.
Finally, Ethan spoke. "So, tell me—why the hell did I have to hear from Jasmine's husband that Robert was showing you a house? Why didn't you just say something?"
Maya shifted in her seat. "I didn't want to start a fight. It was just business. He's a realtor—"
Ethan cut her off, his voice sharp. "You think I'm fucking stupid?!" He snapped toward her, eyes burning. "Well? Do you?!"
Her lips trembled, but she didn't answer. Instead, she unbuckled, shoved the door open, and stepped out.
The fog pressed close in the lot, damp and heavy. Maya lit a cigarette, her hands unsteady. She exhaled smoke into the haze, watching it curl and disappear.
Ethan climbed out after her, the anger already souring into regret. "Maya, wait. I didn't mean it like that. I just—"
But her focus was elsewhere.
She frowned, head tilting slightly. A sound had risen beneath the hum of semis and buzzing neon—a low vibration, steady and unnatural. It wasn't in her ears so much as her bones, resonating through her chest.
The Hum.
Her eyes scanned the lot. The diner's pink-and-blue glow smeared across the fog, and the semi-truck taillights blinked faintly red. But beyond all that… there was nothing. No horizon. No stars. Just black, infinite void.
"Maya?" Ethan's voice wavered, uneasy.
She blinked, shaking herself free. "It's nothing," she muttered, flicking the cigarette away. Her hands were still trembling.
Together, they pushed through the diner door.
Inside, it smelled faintly of coffee and grease. The place was nearly empty. A waitress leaned on the counter, her eyes half-lidded, and a jukebox sat unplugged in the corner. Ethan slid into a booth and ordered two coffees.
Neither of them said much. The neon lights leaked through the window, painting their faces in pink and blue.
The silence stretched. The Hum was gone, but Maya couldn't shake it.
Outside, the fog thickened.