Chapter 2: The Secret Beneath Our Home
I didn’t remember leaving the chapel.
I remembered the faces.
The shocked expressions.
The whispers.
The way Mr. Collins stood beside David’s coffin like he was guarding a secret instead of mourning a friend.
But after that, everything became a blur.
By the time I reached home, the drawing was still clutched in my hand.
I hadn’t let anyone touch it.
Not the funeral director.
Not the relatives who called asking questions.
Not even Mr. Collins, who followed me outside and demanded that we “discuss this privately.””
Privately.
That word stayed in my mind.
Because people who have nothing to hide don’t beg for privacy when a child reveals a secret.
The house looked exactly the same as it had the morning David died.
The same white curtains.
The same family photos on the wall.
The same wooden table where Sophie used to sit and draw while David cooked dinner.
But now every corner felt unfamiliar.
Like my own home had been keeping something from me.
Sophie sat on the couch, hugging her stuffed rabbit.
She had cried herself tired during the drive home.
I sat beside her.
“Sophie?””
She looked at me.
“Can I ask you something?””
She nodded.
“When Daddy gave you this drawing… where were you?””
Her fingers tightened around the rabbit.
“Downstairs.””
My body went still.
“Downstairs where?””
She pointed toward the hallway.
“The door.””
I followed her finger.
At the end of the hallway was the basement door.
I had lived in that house for seven years.
I had walked past that door thousands of times.
But suddenly, it felt like I was seeing it for the first time.
“Daddy showed you the basement?””
Sophie shook her head.
“No.””
“Then why did he draw it?””
She looked down.
“He told me never to open it.””
A chill moved through me.
“Why?””
Sophie’s voice became smaller.
“Because Mr. Collins would be mad.””
The room felt like it shrank around me.
I stood up slowly.
“Why would Mr. Collins be mad?””
Sophie didn’t answer.
She just started crying.
I immediately sat back down and pulled her into my arms.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.””
But even as I said those words, I wasn’t sure I believed them.
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Hello?””
Silence.
Only breathing.
“Who is this?””
A man’s voice finally spoke.
“Are you alone?””
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Who are you?””
The caller ignored my question.
“Listen carefully. Your husband tried to tell you.””
My heart started racing.
“What are you talking about?””
“You cannot trust Collins.””
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Then slowly looked toward the basement door.
A few minutes later, someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
I froze.
Nobody knew I was home except family.
I moved toward the window.
Mr. Collins’ car was parked outside.
My stomach dropped.
He knocked again.
“Sophie?””
My daughter appeared behind me.
“Is that Mr. Collins?””
I didn’t answer.
The door handle moved.
Not opened.
Moved.
Like someone was testing whether it was locked.
I grabbed my phone.
“Mr. Collins,” I called through the door.
“Why are you here?””
His voice came from the other side.
“Because your husband left something behind.””
I stared at the locked door.
“You mean the drawing?””
A pause.
Then:
“No.””
The answer was too fast.
Too certain.
I looked at Sophie.
She was staring at the basement door.
Then she whispered something that made my entire body go cold.
“Mommy…”
I turned.
“What?””
She pointed.
“The basement door is open.””
My eyes moved toward the hallway.
The basement door that had always been locked was now slightly open.
A thin line of darkness waited behind it.
And from somewhere below…
I heard David’s voice.
Not a recording.
Not a memory.
A sound.
My husband.
May you like
Whispering my name.
“Lena…”
