A chance

"I'm sleepy. Let's go to sleep," Arina whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable. We lay down on the bed together, and she nestled close, resting her head on my chest. I wrapped my arm around her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fall asleep. The image of that woman—her wild hair, white eyes, and the dead animal in her hand—kept replaying in my mind.

I reached for the necklace I had placed on the table, hesitating for a moment before setting it down under my pillow instead. Maybe it would bring some comfort, help me find the peace I so desperately needed. With Arina's warmth beside me, I finally drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, the early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I stretched, feeling surprisingly well-rested. But as I turned to look at Arina, something caught my eye. Strands of hair—dark and tangled—were scattered across her pillow.

"What the hell…" I muttered under my breath, sitting up quickly. My heart raced with a sudden surge of anxiety. "Is she okay?"

"Arina?" I called out, my voice laced with concern. Within seconds, she emerged from the washroom, her face a mix of surprise and confusion. "Zoe, you're awake?"

"Yes, I am. Hey, are you okay? I think we should go for a check-up," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I gestured toward the pillow.

"Why?" she asked, frowning.

Wordlessly, I pointed to the strands of hair on her pillow. 

"Oh, that," Arina said with a quick smile as she took the strands of hair from my hand. "It's nothing, honey. Just a girl problem." She laughed, but I could see the nervousness flicker across her face, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

I sighed, deciding not to push the matter further, and headed to the washroom. After a quick shower, I got dressed for work, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over me since last night. As I buttoned my shirt, I instinctively reached for the necklace and slipped it back around my neck. It felt like a small comfort in the midst of so much uncertainty.

"Babe, your breakfast," Arina called out cheerfully as she placed a tray on the table before heading downstairs. I smiled, appreciating the gesture, and sat down to eat. But as I lifted the sandwich to my mouth, a foul, rotten stench hit my nose.

I paused, staring at the sandwich. My stomach churned as I noticed something off—the bread was discolored, the edges slimy with mold. My eyes widened in horror. Without thinking, I bolted to the washroom, barely making it in time as I retched, trying to expel the few bites I had taken.

"What the fu`ck was that?" I spat out, leaning against the sink, my breath ragged. I rinsed my mouth, still tasting the rancidness, and quickly returned to the kitchen. The smell lingered, pungent and unmistakable.

I picked up the plate and examined it more closely. The entire meal was rotten, the eggs greenish and the fruit covered in an unseen layer of decay. My stomach twisted with disgust as I threw everything into the trash.

I didn't want to bother Arina again, so I quickly made myself a fresh sandwich and hurried out the door, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that something was deeply wrong. 

As I drove to the office, I couldn't help but glance at the necklace hanging around my neck, wondering if it was really offering any protection at all.

Three months passed, and the distance between Arina and me grew wider with each day. Our once loving relationship had become strained, frayed by tension and unspoken fears. During these three months, Arina had repeatedly expressed her desire to have a baby, pleading with me to start a family. But I couldn't bring myself to agree. The thought of bringing a child into our lives terrified me, especially with the unsettling rise in infant mortality in our area.

The deaths were unusual, unexplained, and every time I heard about another one, a cold dread settled in my chest. I didn't know what was causing it, but something in my gut told me it was connected to the strange events that had been happening around us. And as much as I wanted to make Arina happy, I couldn't ignore the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

Our relationship suffered for it. We fought almost every day, over small things, over nothing at all. The warmth between us had turned to coldness. Arina stopped wanting to be near me, avoiding my touch, my presence. Eventually, we started sleeping in separate rooms, the space between us growing more than just physical.

One night, as I lay alone in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about how far we had drifted apart. How long would this go on? I wondered if we could ever find our way back to each other. Desperation clawed at me, and I reached for the necklace around my neck, clutching it tightly as if it could somehow give me strength.

I made a decision. I needed to try again, to make things right. I got up and walked to Arina's room, my heart heavy with uncertainty. I knocked softly at first, then louder when there was no response. Finally, after several knocks, the door creaked open.

Arina stood there, wearing a revealing dress that clung to her in a way that seemed almost intentional.

I stood there, captivated by her beauty, wondering why I had allowed so much distance to grow between us. The arguments, the coldness—it all seemed so meaningless now. I opened my mouth to speak, to apologize, but the words wouldn't come. Arina simply smiled, a mysterious glint in her eyes, and before I could react, she pulled me into the room, shutting the door behind us with a firm slam.

That night, we began sleeping together again. The closeness we had lost seemed to return, but only in the dark of night. During the day, Arina remained distant, avoiding me whenever I wore the necklace. It was as if the small cross around my neck was a barrier between us, something she couldn't stand to be near.

So, I made a silent compromise. Every night, I would take off the necklace and place it on the bedside table before going to her. In those moments, we found a semblance of the intimacy we once had.