After hearing the knock against the bedroom window, I got up, expecting to find another poor bird stranded at my window.
There was nothing.
I opened it slightly to check.
A sudden gust of cold wind lashed my face, carrying with it the refreshing scent of mint into the room. I quickly shut the window again so I wouldn't disturb the small bird sleeping inside.
Since I was already awake—and knew I wouldn't fall back asleep—I returned to my desk to continue writing my ambitions and thoughts.
The moment I picked up the pen—
*Tap.*
"Oh God…"
I dropped it and looked irritably toward the window.
Then I froze.
A handprint had formed on the glass.
Whoever it belonged to—whatever its purpose—
It had been inside the room.
The print was on the inside.
Water streamed downward from the palm, dripping slowly.
In horror novels and films, handprints on glass are usually made of blood.
But for me—
A watery print was far more terrifying.
And worse than that…
Words were beginning to form on the fogged glass.
If someone writes on fogged glass, they must be inside.
Instinctively, I touched my neck as a chill of fear froze my veins.
I grabbed the spinner and slowly backed toward the door, my eyes never leaving the glass.
The letters formed:
[Wait!]
"Yes, as if I would," I muttered.
My hand gripped the cold doorknob.
Then more words appeared—and froze me in place.
[There is no time. They are coming!]
They?
Who are they? Who is coming?
Several faces—or things—flashed through my mind.
The faceless monster.
The smiling man.
Which one did it mean?
More importantly—
"Who are you?" I whispered cautiously, tightening my grip on the handle.
[The answer is: I heard nothing, I saw nothing.]
"…?!"
I stopped completely.
Was there some malfunction? I didn't understand anything it wrote.
[They are here!]
And then the words vanished from the clear glass in an instant, as if swallowed.
The window returned to its former innocence.
I stood still, looking right and left, bracing myself for whoever was coming.
I wasn't ready.
What would I even do?
Throw the sphere at them?
While I was lost in anxious preparation, the doorknob moved on its own.
I jolted backward in terror.
"I secured my escape route through the door—and didn't realize it could be a trap. How stupid of me!"
As the door began to open, I edged closer to the black sphere resting on the bed, ready to grab and hurl it at whatever danger stood beyond.
"Mariam, why are you standing like that?"
It was my mother.
How foolish of me to believe my hallucinations.
I blinked rapidly toward the window—it looked completely normal.
"The door just opened suddenly. It startled me."
"Sorry. But your friend is outside asking for you."
"My friend?"
Could it be Noha?
Oh God—that was unexpected!
"I'll be out in a moment! Is she waiting in the living room?" I asked eagerly.
"No, she's downstairs. She refused to come up and said she wants to take you somewhere."
"Oh my God! I'll get ready right away!"
She must have come to apologize about the last meeting.
I laughed lightly while choosing what to wear. I was so happy I forgot about my illness entirely.
It's alright, Noha. Even if you just called me, I'd be happy. I'd forgive you.
I grabbed my wallet, my phone—and of course, I didn't forget the spinner.
I left the bird and the black sphere behind, asking my mother to feed the bird if it woke up.
Then I flew downstairs to meet my favorite friend.
"Noha!"
When I saw her standing near the first floor, I called out enthusiastically. It had only been a few days—but to me, it felt like weeks of separation.
"Hello, Mariam. Have you been well?" she asked, a gentle smile spreading across her face.
A smile I had never seen on her before.
It made her look… more elegant.
"I'm fine. Where are we going?" I asked as I closed the gate behind me.
"You'll know when we arrive. It's a surprise."
She winked her right eye, that charismatic smile still on her lips.
Strange.
I didn't remember Noha making expressions like that.
The Noha I knew was more of a playful tomboy—not someone radiating femininity and charisma like this.
Maybe she was just trying to be gentle with me after learning about my condition.
Noha is Noha, after all.
We crossed the yard until we reached a large jeep.
"I didn't know you had a car!"
"Mariam, three years change a lot. And I have a wealthy husband. Buying a car is normal."
Right. She had told me before that her husband came from a rich family.
"Now get in. I'll take you for a drive."
I got in without hesitation.
We drove in silence for a long while.
"How is Mariam?" I tried to break the awkward quiet as we approached the destination.
"Mariam?" she looked at me as if I were a strange creature.
"I mean little Mariam," she corrected quickly, as though mixing us up.
"Oh. Yes. Little Mariam is fine."
Honestly, something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
I took out the spinner and began to spin it.
Since those unfamiliar expressions… something inside me hadn't settled.
But I was afraid to confront her. What if we argued and drifted apart again?
Should I ask?
Or stay silent?
[They are here.]
Who are they?
Could the message have meant Noha?
Why would my hallucinations warn me about her?
Wait…
What if she isn't Noha?
I glanced at her quickly as she drove calmly.
Impossible.
Even my mother saw her.
I dismissed the thought immediately.
But this road…
It looked familiar.
Wasn't this the road leading to the city's psychiatric center?
As I suspected, the car stopped directly in front of it.
Not a place I wished to return to…
For many reasons.
Noha stepped out of the car.
"Get out," she said firmly.
"Why did you bring me here?"
Had she brought me to mock me? After all this time, I thought she was a real friend. I must not know how to choose my friends.
"Mariam… get out. Follow me."
Same commanding tone.
I followed her—if only to understand what she wanted and why she had come here specifically.
We walked together into the building and reached the elevator.
Instead of pressing a floor number, she placed her hand on the black display screen.
A hidden panel opened inside the elevator—one I would never have known existed had it not opened before my eyes.
She pressed several buttons.
The elevator moved.
Not upward.
Downward.
My jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
It felt like I had stepped into a spy novel.
What was this place?
And what was Nihal's connection to it?
When I looked back at her—my mouth still hanging open like a fish out of water—
My breath stopped.
Her face was melting.
Like wax.
That wasn't Noha.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" the unfamiliar woman touched her face and said in an amused tone.
"…Ah.
Is the time up?"