“She should have paid more attention to the cold.”
Lena
Shopping with Tessa was its own kind of chaos.
It was the good kind—loud, fast, and all-consuming.
It was the only thing that made it impossible to think about anything else.
She moved through the store like she was on a mission, pulling clothes off the racks with both hands.
“This one,” she asked.
“No.”
“This one?”
“Tessa, it has feathers.”
She spun toward me dramatically, already holding something else.
“Okay, but THIS!”
Then she stopped.
Her whole expression changed.
She turned slowly, and I already knew something was different before I saw what she was holding up: a black dress.
It was simple, clean, and effortless.
It was the kind of dress that didn’t ask to be looked at, yet somehow made you look anyway.
It was exactly my style.
I reached out and touched the fabric.
It was soft and heavy.
“It might be too much,” I started to say.
“It is exactly enough,” she said firmly.
She leaned in closer, dropping her voice like she was sharing classified information.
“Daniel is going to be there.”
Heat rushed to my face immediately.
“Tessa!”
“Don’t Tessa me.” She grinned.
“That boy looks at you like you personally invented oxygen.”
“That is such a strange thing to say.”
“It’s true,” she said.
“And tonight?” She held the dress out toward me with great ceremony.
“He is going to suffer beautifully.”
I shook my head, already laughing.
“You are a terrible person.”
“I know,” she said proudly.
“Now go try it on.”
* * * *
The party was louder than I expected.
The music was so deep it shook the walls and my chest at the same time.
I didn’t just hear the bass; I felt it inside my body.
Bright lights flashed over the crowd.
People were dancing and laughing, living freely without a care in the world.
The air was warm and heavy.
It smelled sweet and sharp at once.
“This is insane,” I said, laughing.
Tessa grabbed my hand and pulled me forward.
“Welcome to adulthood.”
“Is it always like this?”
“Only on the good nights.” She flashed a grin over her shoulder.
I let her pull me into the crowd.
I felt the music move through me, and for a while, it worked.
The morning, the cake, my dad’s distant eyes, and the “contract”—all of it faded away.
There was just the noise and the lights.
Then I felt it—a gaze.
It was warm and obvious.
I turned slightly and saw Daniel standing across the room.
He wasn’t dancing or talking; he was unmistakably looking at me.
When our eyes met, he straightened up quickly, like he’d been caught, and looked away.
Then he looked back.
I tried to keep a straight face.
“Told you,” Tessa whispered in my ear.
“Stop watching him watch me.”
“That is literally my only job right now.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“And you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
We both laughed, and I let myself enjoy the music, the lights, and the simple pleasure of being young, present, and alive.
Then the second feeling came.
This was different.
It wasn’t warm like Daniel’s gaze.
This was cold.
It wasn’t the cold of someone being mean or angry; it was something older.
Something pressed against the back of my neck, heavy and sure.
It wasn’t a look of desire.
It was a look of certainty.
It felt like being watched by something that had already made its choice.
My smile faded.
I turned slowly, scanning the room.
I looked at the crowd, the corners, and the shadows where the light didn’t reach.
I was looking for the source of that “wrong” feeling.
Daniel was looking away now, talking to a friend.
It wasn’t him.
The feeling didn’t shift or flicker.
It stayed steady, as if whatever was watching me had no reason to hide.
But I couldn’t find it.
No matter where I looked, there was just the crowd and the music.
Yet, that cold, ancient feeling pressed against my skin like a hand that wasn’t there.
A chill moved across my arms, raising goosebumps.
It wasn’t from a draft or an open door.
It came from nowhere and everywhere.
I rubbed my arms and looked around one last time.
Nothing.
You’re overthinking, I told myself firmly.
It’s your birthday.
Just stop.
Tessa materialised at my elbow as she had teleported.
“Here.” She held out a cup.
I looked at it.
Then at her.
“Tessa, what is in it?”
“Freedom,” she announced.
She grinned.
“Your birthday present.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Just one sip, Lena. You’re standing here looking like you’re solving a math problem. Relax.”
I took the cup and sipped a little.
I regretted it instantly.
It burned my throat like I had swallowed fire.
I made a face, and Tessa started laughing so hard she lost her breath.
“Oh, my God! your FACE!”
“It’s so strong…” I coughed.
“You’re fine, you’re fine.” She was wheezing.
“That is not how drinks should taste.”
“You’ll thank me later…”
And then after a minute, the burn faded.
It was replaced by a warm, light feeling that spread through my chest.
My shoulders dropped.
My breath came easier.
“Okay,” I admitted.
“I get why people like this.”
Tessa looked extremely pleased with herself.
The rest of the night softened at the edges.
The music felt better, and I laughed more than I had all day.
That strange cold feeling faded to the back of my mind.
“I need to go home,” I told Tessa much later.
“Yeah,” she said immediately, already steadying me with a hand on my arm.
“I’ve got you.”
The ride home was a comfortable blur.
The front door opened before we reached it.
My mom was standing there with her arms crossed, her eyes doing that immediate full-body scan of me.
“Lena.”
“I’m okay,” I said quickly.
“I promise. I’m just tired.”
She stepped forward and took my arm gently.
She didn’t scold me or ask any questions that I could see behind her eyes.
She just said…
“Go and rest.”
I turned back to Tessa.
“Bye.”
“Text me when you wake up,” she said, pointing at me.
I made it to my room, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto my bed.
I lay there on my back, watching the shapes of my room in the dark.
I was starting to relax when my eyes drifted to the window.
I frowned.
The moon.
It looked wrong.
It wasn’t a strange shape; it was just too bright and too close.
The silver light filled the window, feeling so solid I thought I could touch it.
It was like the moon had moved closer while I wasn’t looking.
I squinted at it.
“Why does it look like that?”
I rubbed my eyes and looked at it again.
It was still wrong, still too bright and still too close.
“It’s the alcohol,” I muttered, pulling my blanket up.
“It’s definitely the alcohol.”
Then the cold came back.
It wrapped around my arms, chilling me even under my blanket.
It was the same specific, sourceless chill from the party.
I pulled the blanket tighter.
And then I heard a low, deep sound.
It wasn’t coming from any specific place.
It definitely wasn’t coming from the street, or from inside the house, or from any direction I could point to, more like it was coming from nowhere.
It definitely wasn’t the wind.
It was a sound I had heard before.
My whole body went still.
It was the kind of stillness you feel when you sense a threat you don’t understand yet.
“…What was that?”
My own voice sounded small and careful, dissolving into the silence of my room.
There was no answer.
Only the moon at my window is still in its shape and brightness.
The sound was fading now, pulling away, but it left something behind.
A feeling pressed into the centre of my chest, like a thumbprint that wouldn’t go away.
* * *
Thank you for your supports.