Chapter 1

At 2 AM, I heard a familiar knock at the door.

My husband Michael Cross's voice came through. "Honey, I forgot my keys. Open up."

I groggily got up and reached for the doorknob.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a WhatsApp message from Michael: [Baby, my flight got delayed. I won't get home until 7 AM tomorrow.]

My hand froze in mid-air, and cold sweat drenched my back.

The person outside knocked again, urging me. "Honey, I'm freezing. Come on, open up."

The voice and the way he spoke were like Michael's.

*****

It was 2 AM. The bedroom was dead silent, except for the low hum of the air conditioner.

I was sound asleep when a soft knock at the door jolted me awake.

It was rhythmic, and it was a sound I knew all too well.

I opened my eyes, still half-asleep.

Was that my husband, Michael Cross, back already? Wasn't he supposed to be away on a three-day business trip to Linroton? It was only the first night.

"Honey, open the door." Michael's voice came from outside, sounding a bit tired.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed.

"Why are you back so soon?" I mumbled, still half-asleep.

"The project wrapped up early, so I came home right away," Michael's voice outside sounded genuine. "My phone's dead, and I left my keys in my suitcase in the trunk. I'm too lazy to go down and grab them."

His explanation sounded reasonable.

I didn't think much of it, threw off the covers, and got out of bed.

It was a bit cold at night, and I couldn't help but shiver.

The living room was dark, so I felt my way along the wall toward the door.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting dappled shadows across the floor.

I went to the door and looked out through the peephole.

The motion sensor light in the hallway was out, so everything outside was pitch black. I couldn't see a thing.

"Honey, hurry up. It's freezing out here," Michael urged from outside.

It was his voice, no doubt about it. The tone and his usual phrases matched perfectly.

I felt reassured.

He must be worn out.

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the cold doorknob.

The icy metal against my palm helped clear my head a bit.

As I was about to turn the doorknob, my phone on the nightstand buzzed loudly.

Who could be calling this late? I froze.

"Honey? What's wrong?" Michael called from outside, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"It's nothing. Wait a sec. I need to take this call." I quickly turned and headed back to the bedroom.

I picked up my phone. A new WhatsApp message popped up on the screen. It was from Michael.

My heart skipped a beat.

Wasn't he supposed to be outside? How could he be messaging me right now?

Feeling uneasy, I opened the message. [Baby, my flight's been seriously delayed. The airline booked me a hotel. I'll be home by 7 AM tomorrow. Don't worry. Get some sleep.]

The message was sent one minute ago.

My blood ran cold in that instant.

My phone slipped from my hand and dropped onto the covers, without a sound.

But in my mind, it felt like a thousand bombs exploded all at once.

If Michael were truly at the airport texting me on WhatsApp right now, then who was the person outside the door with his exact voice and tone?

Cold sweat instantly drenched my pajamas. A cold wave kept washing over my back.

My whole body froze up, and I couldn't move at all.

The knocking came again, this time a little harder than before.

"Honey, why aren't you opening the door?" The voice outside was still gentle, sounded like Michael.

"I'm so cold. Can you let me in, please?" There was even a hint of coquetry in his voice.

That was our little thing. But now, it sounded like a death knell from hell.

My teeth were chattering so hard that they were clicking together.

I pressed my hand tightly over my mouth, not daring to let out a single sound.

I curled up on the carpet beside the bed, shaking uncontrollably.

My gaze locked onto the door.

It seemed to have turned into the gaping jaws of a monster, ready to devour anyone who dared to open it.

If I opened it, I'd be devoured, nothing left of me.

"Honey? Are you in there? Why aren't you saying anything?" The voice outside was starting to sound anxious.

"Did something happen? Hurry up and open the door." He began rattling the doorknob forcefully.

The metallic clatter sounded especially jarring in the dead silence of the night.

I was scared out of my wits.

I couldn't take my eyes off the lock.

Good thing I always double-lock the door before going to bed.

He wouldn't be getting in anytime soon.

Fear crashed over me like a tidal wave.

What should I do? Should I call the police? What would I even say, that there was someone outside impersonating my husband?

Would the police even buy it? Or would they think it was a couple's quarrel or some silly prank?

"Winnie, open the door." The person outside suddenly called me by my nickname, his voice turning sharp and commanding.

Winnie was my nickname.

Only Michael and my parents ever called me that.

How could he possibly know that?

As terror washed over me, a wild thought suddenly popped into my head.

Was I so tired that I was seeing things?

Maybe there was actually nobody outside.

I pinched myself.

It hurt. It was definitely not a dream.

The figure outside kept knocking persistently, again and again. Each rapping cut away at my fraying sanity, cold and relentless.