Chapter 4 — Whispers from the Past

Juliana

The farmhouse felt colder than it should have, as though the walls themselves mourned Vivian’s absence. Juliana’s breath fogged faintly in the dim hallway, the air heavy with the musty scent of mothballs and damp wood. Her boots creaked against the warped floorboards as she approached Vivian’s bedroom door. She paused, her hand hovering just above the knob, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a leaden shroud. The last time she’d been in this room was the night Vivian disappeared.