Dinner ended on a dull note.
Plates were cleared, conversations slowed, and laughter began to fade into bored silence. Guests leaned back in their chairs, some scrolling through their phones, others yawning softly. The excitement of food and wine had worn off quickly.
The energy was calm.
Emma father stood up from his chair, clapping his hands once. "Alright," he said loudly, forcing cheer into the room. "Let's play a game."
A few heads lifted. Someone chuckled.
"A game?" Emma asked, turning toward him. "Dad, it's Christmas dinner, not a children's party."
Before her father could respond, Aunt Margaret's voice rang out excitedly. "I'm interested! What kind of game?"
That was it. Interest sparked instantly.
"Hide and seek," Emma's father said with a grin. "Like old times."
A wave of laughter spread across the room.
Lucas scoffed. "Hide and seek? Seriously?"
"Oh come on," Aunt Margaret said loudly. "We're all bored. It'll be fun."
Others nodded in agreement. Audrey clapped her hands. "I'm in!"
Mark shrugged. "Why not?"
Emma frowned. "This is for kids."
"No kids," her father corrected. "They stay upstairs. Adults only."
That settled it.
They quickly agreed on the rules. The children were sent upstairs to watch cartoons under supervision. The rest gathered in the living room.
They counted.
"One… two… three…"
Emma counted silently in her head as well.
Nine.
Nine adults standing in the house, ready to play.
Lucas, Audrey, Mark, Aunt Margaret, Uncle Paul, Clinton, Emma's father, Mrs. Greene from next door, and Emma herself.
Nine.
Her father volunteered to count first.
He stood by the wall, covering his eyes. "Everyone hide. Thirty seconds."
Movement erupted instantly. Laughter, hurried footsteps, doors opening and closing. Emma moved quickly but calmly, slipping into the guest corridor and ducking behind a tall wardrobe. She waited, listening.
"Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty!"
Footsteps echoed through the house as the search began.
The game was short-lived.
Within minutes, laughter erupted as people were found—Audrey behind the curtains, Mark in the pantry, Aunt Margaret squeezed awkwardly behind the couch. Emma was discovered last, earning playful applause.
They regrouped in the living room, laughing, breathless.
"Alright," Lucas said, counting on his fingers. "Let's see who's left."
They counted again.
"One… two… three…"
Emma felt a small tightening in her chest.
They reached eight.
Lucas frowned. "Wait."
Her father frowned too. "We were nine."
Everyone went quiet.
Eyes shifted around the room.
"Who's missing?" Aunt Margaret asked.
They all looked at one another, counting again more carefully.
Eight.
Emma scanned faces, her heart beginning to beat faster—not in fear, but confusion.
Lucas snapped his fingers. "Clinton."
Everyone turned toward the back hallway instinctively.
Lucas continued, casual. "I saw him earlier. He went toward the back door. Looked like he was on a call."
A moment passed.
Then realization dawned across the room.
"Oh," Mrs. Greene said. "That's true."
Aunt Margaret nodded. "Yes, I remember. He stepped out during the game."
Emma's father exhaled, relief softening his face. "Probably still on the phone."
"Typical Clinton," Uncle Paul laughed. "Always disappearing."
The tension eased.
Emma didn't speak. She simply stared at the back door.
"It's fine," Lucas said, waving it off. "He'll come back."
"Let's wait," her father agreed. "No point starting another round."
They all settled back into the living room, chatting lightly again, laughter slowly returning.
But Emma remained standing.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the hallway leading to the back door.
Clinton had stepped out during the game.
And yet—
Emma glanced at the clock on the wall.
Too much time had passed.
And for the first time that night, the house felt strangely quiet.