Clover returned home in silence.
She greeted her parents briefly before heading upstairs, shutting the door behind her.
Her mother frowned. "What happened to her?"
Helen said nothing.
But the look on her face said enough.
Pain.
Understanding passed between them.
Inside her room, Clover collapsed onto her bed.
Tears streamed down her face, unstoppable.
Why was her life like this?
What was wrong with her?
The questions circled endlessly, cutting deeper each time.
After a while, she forced herself up and walked to the mirror.
She stared at her reflection.
Long.
Hard.
Then something in her shifted.
Enough.
She wiped her tears.
She was done crying over a man.
Hours later, her throat burned from crying.
She went downstairs for water.
"My dear," her mother said softly, her father standing beside her, "don't be so down. The right man will come at the right time."
Something snapped.
"When?" Clover demanded. "When will that 'right man' come?"
Her voice rose, sharp and bitter.
"If Dad wasn't so ugly and didn't pass it down to me, I wouldn't be like this! I wouldn't have to chase after anyone!"
Silence fell.
Heavy.
"Helen is always the lucky one," she continued, her voice breaking. "Let's just accept it—I'm hideous."
The moment the words left her mouth, she saw it.
Pain.
In both their eyes.
Regret hit instantly.
Without another word, she turned and rushed out.
She wandered aimlessly.
Until a soft glow caught her attention.
Mr. Gareth's library.
Candlelight flickered inside.
Without thinking, she pushed the door open and dropped onto a cushion.
"Did your parents upset you again, Clover?" Mr. Gareth asked gently.
He had been her father's friend for years.
"They don't understand me," she muttered.
"They love you," he replied.
"I know," she said quietly. "I never said they didn't."
She exhaled and forced a small smile. "I'll find a book."
He nodded.
She searched.
Shelf after shelf.
Nothing.
"I think I've read everything here," she said, brushing dust from her clothes.
"You haven't," he replied carefully. "There are other books."
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
He led her to a bookshelf and pressed a hidden switch.
A door slid open.
They stepped inside.
The air changed instantly.
"These books are ancient," he said. "Take a look."
Then he left.
Clover stood alone.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
She glanced around, unimpressed—
Until something pulled her attention.
A book.
It felt… wrong.
Like it was calling her.
She stepped closer.
Slowly.
Her hand reached out before she could stop herself.
The cover was thick with dust.
She brushed it away.
The title stared back at her.
DE EVIL.
The moment she opened it—
Darkness swallowed everything.
"Kill her… kill her… kill her…"
Voices echoed violently.
Her heart pounded.
A woman with white hair was tied to a tree, struggling as monstrous creatures closed in.
Clover gasped and slammed the book shut.
The vision vanished.
Her breathing turned uneven.
She quickly placed the book back exactly where she found it and rushed out.
"Goodbye, Mr. Gareth," she said quickly.
"I'm heading home."
She didn't wait for a response.
By the time she got home, the house was silent.
Everyone was asleep.
Relief washed over her.
She moved quietly toward the stairs—
"Clover."
She froze.
Her mother stood in the kitchen doorway.
They sat in the parlor.
Her mother held her hands gently.
"You know your father and I love you," she said softly. "We would never hurt you. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell us."
"I know, Mom," Clover whispered.
And she did.
That was why she couldn't tell her.
Not about the dreams.
Not about the book.
Not yet.
"Trust me," her mother added gently. "The right man will come."
Clover swallowed.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
She leaned forward and hugged her.
Her mother smiled faintly, brushing her hair.
"Will you sleep with me tonight?" Clover asked quietly.
Surprise flickered across her mother's face.
Clover had always hated sharing her bed.
But she nodded.
That night, with her mother beside her, Clover slept peacefully.
Morning came.
After breakfast, Clover left with her father before heading to school.
The moment she stepped in—
Eyes turned.
Whispers followed.
"She's bold…"
"I didn't expect her today…"
"She looks different…"
Clover ignored them and walked on.
Later that day, she skipped lectures as usual.
The walkway was quiet.
Until—
Someone bumped into her.
"Ah—" she hissed, irritation flaring.
She looked up, ready to snap.
Then froze.
The person standing before her—
Stole the breath from her lungs.
And in that moment—
Clover realized—
This encounter…
Would change everything.