Fear Of The Unknown
ARIANA'S POV
The morning sun filtered in through the thin slit of my curtains, casting long, golden lines across the floor. For a few seconds, I let myself pretend everything was okay. That the aching weight in my chest was just a remnant of a bad dream. That the fog in my head was nothing more than leftover sleep. But as soon as I sat up, the memory of last night came flooding back like a tidal wave—my mother’s words, her trembling hands, the sadness in her eyes.
‘Like my own.’
I rubbed at my arms, trying to shake off the chill that suddenly settled over me despite the warmth in the room. I didn’t have answers—only questions. And those questions were multiplying by the hour.
After a quick shower, I dressed in soft gray slacks and a pale blue blouse, something that felt neutral, calm, even if I was anything but. I pinned my hair into a low bun, swiped on some concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes, and applied a subtle lip tint. I didn’t want to look fragile when I stepped outside. I didn’t want the world to see how close I was to breaking.
Still barefoot, I padded down the hallway, the floorboards cool beneath my feet. I passed the large painting of my parents on their wedding day, the frame slightly crooked. I paused just a moment to stare at it—at her. My mother looked so full of life in that picture. Her eyes sparkled, her smile bright and effortless. That woman felt like a stranger to the one I saw last night.
I reached her bedroom door and paused, my hand hovering over the handle. Then I heard it.
Crying.
Soft, muffled, and broken.
My heart dropped. I didn’t knock—I pushed the door open gently but urgently.
"Mom?"
She was curled into herself on the bed, her back to me, shaking as silent sobs wracked her small frame. The sight knocked the breath out of me.
"Mom—hey," I rushed to her side, sinking onto the mattress. "What’s going on? Please talk to me."
She turned to face me, eyes red and swollen, lips trembling.
"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice raw. "I didn’t mean to upset you last night, I'm sorry."
"What do you mean?" I asked, gently but firmly. "What’s really going on? I can’t take being in the dark anymore."
Before she could answer, her eyes fluttered closed and she swayed slightly, clutching her forehead.
Panic surged through me.
"Okay. You’re not okay. I’m calling the doctor."
She didn’t protest. That scared me even more.
Ten minutes later, our family doctor, Dr James, arrived with his black bag and a calm demeanor. He checked her vitals, asked her a few questions, and looked over some old prescriptions.
"She’s under a lot of stress," he said after stepping out of her room with me. "Her blood pressure is elevated, and she’s clearly not sleeping well. But physically, she’s stable. She just needs rest. No alcohol. No heavy emotional strain."
I nodded, relief and worry warring in my chest. "She’ll be okay?"
He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "She just needs time. And someone to help her through it."
"Thank you, Doctor."
When I returned to her room, she was already asleep. Peaceful for once. I stood there for a moment, just watching her. A thousand questions crowded my mind, but for now, I needed her to rest. I turned to Agnes, who stood quietly in the doorway.
"Please keep an eye on her while I’m at work. Don’t let her get up unless it’s necessary."
Agnes nodded solemnly. "I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, Miss Ariana."
"Thank you."
As I stepped out of the room, I nearly collided with someone in the hallway. I looked up, startled, and found myself face-to-face with Grandpa.
He smiled gently, though his eyes held an emotion I couldn’t quite name.
"You remind me so much of her, you know," he said, his voice low and weathered. "Your mother. Strong, even when the world tries to break her."
My throat tightened. "I don’t feel strong."
"But you are." He cupped my cheek, his hand warm and rough with age. "You took charge. You made the right calls. You didn’t run from the truth. That’s strength, Ariana."
I leaned into his touch just for a second. "There’s so much I don’t know, Grandpa. Things I’m scared to find out."
He looked at me then—not just at me, but into me. "The truth has a way of finding its way out, whether we’re ready or not. But whatever it is, you won’t face it alone. Not as long as I’m breathing."
Tears stung my eyes. "Thank you."
"Now go on. You have work. The world doesn’t stop for our pain, unfortunately. But it’ll wait for your answers."
I nodded, gave him a tight hug, and walked down the front steps to my car.
But as I slid into the driver’s seat, a strange chill slid down my spine.
Something felt... wrong.
Not wrong in a loud, obvious way. But in that quiet, crawling sense you get when someone is watching you. When the air feels too still. When your instincts start screaming and you don’t even know why.
I started the engine, but didn’t move. My fingers hovered over the steering wheel.
I stared at the house through the windshield. Everything looked normal. But that pit in my stomach wouldn’t ease.
Something’s coming.
I didn’t know what it was. But deep down, I knew with every fiber of my being—
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
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