Silent night settled in after a long afternoon of mundane activities, leaving Allan feeling as though he had been trapped in a slow-moving routine. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if his movements were restrained and he couldn't leave the house at will. Aside from a slight lightheadedness which he attributed to the unfamiliar environment nothing seemed out of place.
He walked down the corridor, the dim white lights casting faint shadows along the walls. The house was quiet. Elaine and her mother were in the sitting room, under the impression that he had already gone to bed. Yet, Allan's attention kept wandering.
It was the potted plants outside that first caught his eye. At a glance, they seemed ordinary, but there was something in their scent that betrayed their nature. The same subtle fragrance had greeted him the moment he stepped inside the house, lingering faintly in the corridor.
His steps slowed as he reached the last window along the hall. The window was small, its black curtains drawn tightly, and beside it were three potted plants. Allan stared at them with a neutral expression, but his mind was racing. For most people, it would have seemed insignificant—but the combination of the plants and the drawn black curtains confirmed his suspicions.
"What are you doing?" a voice asked, breaking his concentration.
He didn't bother turning; he already knew who it was. Soon, footsteps approached, and she stood beside him, hands tucked casually into the pockets of her sweater.
"What are you doing?" she repeated, bending slightly to glance at the plants.
"Watching the plants," he answered casually.
"Oh," she said, nodding, "don't come too close. Mum is really protective of these."
Allan whipped his head toward her, his eyes silently questioning.
"They're her babies," she said softly, as though reliving a fond memory. "She won't even let me near them."
"Since when has she been collecting these?" he asked calmly, turning back to the plants.
"I don't know," she replied with a shrug. "It's been her hobby for some years now."
"I thought you were in your room," she asked, furrowing her brows.
"Well, I wasn't," he answered. "Looking for me?" he asked.
"Well, yeah. I wanted to tell you that Mum's gone to bed… we could sleep now."
Her curiosity peaked. "But… how did you get past her?"
"You sure do forget easily," he replied with a faint smile, turning to walk away.
Then, without warning, a wave of dizziness hit him, stronger than before. His head spun violently, forcing him to stop in his tracks. He closed his eyes, hoping it would pass, but the sensation lingered.
Elaine noticed him frozen, unmoving. "Are you alright?" she asked, genuine concern threading her voice.
"Yes," he said sharply, his words quick, almost clipped. Then he left, his strides long and brisk.
But Elaine knew he wasn't alright. She quickly turned off the corridor lights, plunging the hall into darkness, and jogged to catch up with him, shadows flickering against the walls as her footsteps echoed behind him.
---
"So we're staying in my room," she said as they walked together. Her voice had a nervous edge, almost as if saying it aloud made it real.
"I wonder if the spirit would show up," she continued. "I haven't been feeling the pain or discomfort for some time probably because of the stress. But… I think I've been forgetting some things, some details. I don't know if it's because of the spirit… or if it's just me."
She looked to Allan, hoping for a response, but was met with only silence. He wasn't listening. She had been about to ask if he was alright, knowing the answer would be the usual "yes," and that thought made her pause.
She stared at him as they reached the room. Allan flopped into a chair, tiredly, as though his legs had betrayed him. His face looked pale, and a thin layer of sweat clung to his skin. Elaine hesitated non-humans didn't get sick, did they? But when he let out a low, pained groan, she knew he was far from fine.
Silently, she set about making the bed, her movements deliberate, careful not to break the fragile tension in the room. The air between them was thick, heavy with unspoken concern, and for the first time, she allowed herself to truly notice how much he was struggling beneath the calm exterior.