Amelia's heart was still unsteady while sitting on her bed . The faint rumble of the engine broke the silence outside.
She froze then sighed in relief.
Dad
She glanced at the clock on the wall .He was home early today.
Amelia knelt down quickly, trying to sweep up the shards of the broken vase before he could step in. The last thing she needed was questions she couldn't answer.
The front door opened with a soft creak.
"Amelia?"
"In here!" she called, trying to keep her voice calm.
Her father appeared in the doorway, his sleeves rolled up, a faint trace of dust on his hands. His eyes moved from her face to the floor, to the half-hidden broom.
"What happened?"
"Uh .. Nothing serious I... just dropped the vase".
She forced a small laugh." Guess I am really clumsy "
He nodded slowly , studying her .
For a Moment she thought he might ask more.
His gaze then shifted towards the locket catching a faint shimmer on it.
He frowned " you are still wearing that thing" He murmured.
Amelia blinked" Of course I am, grandmother left it for me"
"I know," he said quietly. Then, as if realizing his tone, he smiled. "It just looks old. Don't want it to fall apart, that's all."
His voice was gentle, but something about it felt... off. Like he wasn't telling her everything.
At Dinner
Rain had started making soft, steady tapping sound .
Her father barely touched his food. He kept glancing toward the garden every few minutes, as if expecting something-or someone-to appear.
Amelia broke the silence by saying
"Dad can you tell me something about grandma did she...tell you about a veil ."
He froze for half a second, his fork hovering above the plate.
Then he smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Your grandmother liked her stories. Don't go digging too deep into them, all right? Some things are better left in the past."
"Right," she said softly, but her mind wouldn't rest.
When she went to bed, the rain had stopped. Her locket felt a little heavier than usual as she lay down, the faint hum of the night whispering against her window.
She dreamed.
A field of grass stretched endlessly before her.
In the distance shimmered a curtain of pale light beautiful and fragile like a wall made of water and stars.
Her grandmother stood beside it, smiling, her gray hair turned to bright gold in the strange light.
"Amelia," she said softly, "keep it safe. Don't let it break again."
Then a shadow appeared behind the veil-tall, indistinct, its eyes burning blue like frost.
"She's too late," it whispered, voice sharp as wind.
Amelia gasped. The light rippled-then shattered into darkness.
She woke suddenly, breathing hard. Her room was quiet, but her locket was glowing faintly against her skin, warm like sunlight.
On her desk, the letter her grandmother had written fluttered, though no wind stirred.
Amelia sat up and saw something glimmering faintly on the window.
a tiny blue feather
She reached out to touch it. It was real, soft, and cold like mist.
At that moment, she heard her father moving downstairs. Footsteps. A door creaking
Then his voice, calm but strange, from the hallway outside her room:
"Amelia, if you go out today... stay away from the old garden gate. It's not safe after rain."
She froze.
That gate led to the oak tree she'd dreamt of-the one her grandmother used to visit every summer.
The locket pulsed faintly once, as if answering something unseen.