Chapter 1

At 11:47 that night, the doorbell rang.

I shot up from the couch and checked my phone first. Emily had sent me a WhatsApp message: [David, I'm working late. Go to bed without me.]

So it couldn't be her.

I walked to the door and rose on my toes to peek through the peephole.

The hallway light was sound-activated, and right now it was off. But with a little light coming in from the window across the hall, I could make out a figure standing outside my door.

A woman. Long hair. The build looked kind of familiar.

I called through the door, "Who is it?" I did not open it.

"Me," the person outside said.

I froze.

That was my wife's voice.

"Were you not working late?" I asked.

There was silence for two seconds. Then that voice said again, "I came back early. I forgot my keys."

I looked through the peephole again. It was too dark to see her face clearly.

"Call me what you always do."

"David," the person outside called.

It really was her voice. We'd been married three years. I'd heard her say "David" thousands of times. There was no way I'd get that wrong.

But something still felt off.

I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Maybe her tone was too flat, like she was reading from a script. Or maybe it was because she'd been standing out there this whole time, so why hadn't the hallway light come on?

It was sound-activated. Even if I couldn't see her clearly, there should've been some kind of movement or noise. But she was just standing there, and the light stayed off.

"Open the door," the person outside said. "It's cold out here."

I lowered my eyes and looked at the crack under the door.

No feet.

Someone was standing outside, but beneath the door, there wasn't even a shadow.

I took a step back.

"David?" The voice outside turned a little anxious. "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer. I slowly backed over to the coffee table, grabbed my phone, and called Emily.

The phone rang three times before she picked up.

"Hello?" It was my wife's voice on the other end, with a lot of noise in the background. "David, I'm still at the office. We just wrapped up a meeting. What's wrong?"

I asked, "You're at the office?"

"Yeah. Listen." She moved the phone a little farther away. I heard people talking, keyboards clacking, a printer running. "I'm really at work. Why would I lie to you?"

I stared at the front door, my heart climbing into my throat.

"Then when are you coming back?"

"It'll be a while. Just go to sleep. Don't wait up for me."

The call ended.

I stood in the middle of the living room, gripping my phone and staring at the door.

The thing outside did not speak or ring again, but I knew it was still there because something had begun seeping in beneath the door.

It looked like water, but it wasn't water. It was black and thick, slowly oozing in through the crack under the door. The part that had already come inside was still writhing on the floor like it was alive.

I opened my mouth, trying to yell something.

My phone rang again.

I looked down. Emily had sent another WhatsApp message.

[Oh right, I forgot to tell you. Property management sent out a notice today. The broken elevator in our building got fixed. I just came up in that one]

I went still.

The broken elevator?

That elevator had been out of service for three months. I had even seen the "Under Repair" notice taped to the door that afternoon.

If she had come up in that elevator, then what the hell was she?

I looked up at the pool of black stuff under the door.

It had already spread across a wide patch of floor. Now it was gathering and rising, slowly taking on a human shape: long hair, shoulders, and a slim waist.

The face hadn't fully formed yet, but I could already tell it was my wife's face.

That voice came from outside the door again, soft and weightless, as if rising from underwater, and called, "David, open the door."