Jill emerged from the taxi with her hair tangled, her dress wrinkled, her shoes scuffed, and her arms wrapped tightly across her stomach, clutching nothing and everything at once. Although her mouth trembled, she kept it closed, realising that some emotions lost shape when expressed aloud.
The front door creaked open before she even touched the knob.
"Jill?" Anna's voice broke with relief. She stepped into the light, barefoot, and sleeves rolled up. "God, where have you been? "You look like you were dragged into a fight."
Jill glanced at her, her eyes already moist. Her lips opened. She spoke slowly with Anna as if they did not want to leave.
"I lost Alice today."
Anna stood motionless, breath trapped in her throat, while Jill's eyes streamed tears down her cheeks in silence—her eyes never stopped gleaming.
Anna didn't ask another question. She closed the gap and pulled Jill into her chest. Jill crumpled. Her shoulders caved, and her knees buckled as her bones finally got the message her heart had been trying to send all day: Alice was gone.
Anna held her tighter.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into Jill's hair, her voice gentle for once. "Tell me what happened."
Jill sucked in. "She… She was involved in an accident. A truck hit her unexpectedly. It was quick. We reached the hospital, but—" She shook her head, pressing her face against Anna's shoulder as if she could block out the memory. "She didn't make it."
Footsteps could be heard in the hall. Soft, hardly there. Then a voice.
"Is everything alright?"
Jill's head pulled up.
"Mom?"
Sharon stood at the edge of the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hand, her robe loosely fastened, and her hair set up in a way that made her appear unreachable. Her expression was unreadable, calm as always.
"Yes, sweetheart," Sharon said. "I'm here."
Jill left Anna's arms without thinking. She crossed the room in three quick steps and threw herself into her mother. Sharon froze briefly before wrapping both arms around her daughter and discreetly placing the tea on the table behind her.
"Alice is dead, Mom," Jill whispered against her shoulder, the words scraping her throat raw.
Sharon inhaled deeply. "Oh my God."
"Come," she said, gently guiding Jill toward the couch. "Sit down."
Anna remained at the door, wondering what to do with her hands. She watched the scenario develop like a movie in someone else's room.
Sharon brushed a strand of hair from Jill's forehead, studying her face. "Tell me what happened."
Jill glanced at the wall, blinking too fast. "A truck hit her. We were outside the school. She was trying to help someone. By the time the ambulance took her to the hospital... She was pronounced dead.
Sharon nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry, Jill. May her soul rest in peace."
Jill looked up at her mother, her voice small. "Are you staying?"
Sharon squeezed her hand. "I'm not going anywhere."
Jill held that gaze for a moment. Then, as if something else broke inside her, she asked, "Have you heard from Dad?"
"He's flying in," Sharon said. "His flight will land tomorrow morning."
Jill's expression twisted with fear.
Sharon saw it. "What is it?"
Jill looked away. "Nothing. I need to lie down. My head's killing me."
"Did you eat anything?" Sharon asked.
"I'm not hungry," Jill responded.
"You should try," Sharon said.
"I said I'm fine," Jill yelled.
Sharon studied her daughter again. Something wasn't right. But she let it go.
"Alright", Sharon said. "Get some rest."
"Goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
Jill stood and moved towards the stairs, her limbs heavy and her breathing shallow.
She opened her bedroom door carefully, closed it behind her, and turned the lock with a faint click. She stood motionless, pressing her forehead against the wood until the pain in her throat subsided. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed silently to the floor.
Her body shook, hands clutching at her arms as if attempting to take away whatever was wrong inside her. The sobs flowed like a flood, bursting a loud, wet, and breathless dam.
Something shifted from the corner.
A figure.
No sound. It's just a small shift in the air.
Jill was terrified as she peered around the figure approaching. Larry took a step closer, his face half-shadowed. His presence seemed serene and unhurried as if he had been standing there all along.
"What's eating you, my dear?" His voice was soft, nearly kind. "Tell me, and I'll fix it."
Jill jerked her head up, eyes swollen and red.
"My dad is coming home tomorrow," she whispered with tight teeth. "He's going to see it—see me." I'm screwed if he finds out I'm pregnant."
Larry's eyes narrowed. He tilted his head.
"Is that all?" he asked.
Jill nodded, but afterwards, she wondered if telling him had been a mistake.
"I can take care of that."
Jill blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You've put the baby through enough for one day," Larry replied gently. "Allow me to lift the weight off your shoulders." I will take care of it."
She sat up straight, her palms flat on the floor.
"Wait—what does that mean?" Her voice was sharp now. "You're not going to hurt my dad, are you?"
Larry made a step forward. The room darkened behind him, but no lights had changed. He crouched in front of her, eye level with her.
"Jill, I'm here to protect you." You and the child. That's all. "If anything puts that at risk." He shrugged slightly. "I step in."
Jill stared at him, her face etched with horror, but something else moved behind it—quiet, unblinking interest as his words hung in the air.
She stared at him, her breath short. "Please don't do anything to him. He doesn't know anything about my condition."
"I won't," Larry said.
"Promise?"
He nodded. "I promise."
She sagged, her back on the edge of her bed. "Thank you," she whispered.
He watched her with a long, unreadable gaze. Then he spoke again.
"And don't ever try what you did today. You have no idea how close you were to losing everything. What I did at the hospital was only a sliver of what I could."
Jill's breath hitched. She stared at the floor. "I understand."
"I need you to mean it."
She nodded, tears slipping again. "I do."
He got up and moved back into the shadows. There is no exit sound. There are no farewell words.
Jill sat silently for an extended period with her knees to her chest.
Then she got up, legs stiff, and crawled into her bed. She did not draw the covers over herself. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling fan as it turned slowly and steadily. Her eyes did not blink. Her hand rested softly on her belly, unsure whether to protect or curse it.
The silence grew heavy.
Something moved in the corner of the room—a whisper.
She didn't move.
She didn't sleep.
She only waited for daylight, her father's footsteps, and for the truth to reach the front door and demand entry.
But something else was coming first.
And it wasn't going to knock.