The soft scratch of the paintbrush against canvas echoed in the quiet living room, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh coffee. If Lucas was here, he would have probably nagged her about drinking too much coffee. Bella stood by the window, her brush moving in thoughtful strokes, dabbing warm hues of gold and rose onto a half-finished landscape.
The house was unusually silent—peaceful, yes, but too still. With Rachel at school and Lucas at the office, the quiet had settled like a familiar old friend. Yet, as her hand swept across the canvas, Bella's mind wandered to them both.
She didn't realize how accustomed she and Rachel had become to his presence until today. Lucas's teasing remarks that often made her roll her eyes. Rachel's constant chatter and laughter filling every corner of their home. Now, there was just the sound of her brush.
Bella paused, her gaze drifting to the soft afternoon light pouring in through the windows. There was something about the stillness that usually would've stirred unease in her chest—especially after feeling watched a few days ago.
But not today. In fact, ever since Lucas had stayed home and dropped Rachel to school that morning, the strange heaviness had lifted. Even now, alone, she felt safe.
'Maybe it wasn't about being alone or not. Maybe it was just about him. Maybe he was right. I'm just imagining things.' She thought. When Lucas was around, the shadows didn't seem to matter.
She set her brush down and stepped back to observe her work. The painting was far from done, but it made her smile.
Time had flown, and the pang in her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She tied her hair back, made her way to the kitchen, and began preparing lunch. Cooking always grounded her, and she moved with practiced ease—chopping vegetables, stirring sauces, and humming under her breath.
Halfway through frying the mushrooms, her phone buzzed. She checked the caller. Lucas.
"Hey," she answered, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder while stirring.
"Hey," came his low, warm voice. "What's that sound? Are you cooking? Without me?"
Bella smiled. "Sorry to break it to you, but not everything revolves around you."
Lucas chuckled. "Are you trying to tell me I'm not the center of your universe?"
"You were never even in the solar system," she teased.
He hummed. "Harsh. And here I was just checking in on you."
Bella softened. "I'm fine, really. Just trying to feed myself before our daughter comes home and judges my meal."
"She gets that from you."
"Excuse me?" she gasped.
"Don't worry, mia cara, I still like you both," he added smoothly. Her hand froze briefly on the stove handle. The words were not something he can say so casually like that. He told his parents that he will use this to call her, but she never expected it will be this fast. But nonetheless she liked the way his deep voice called her that nickname.
She shook her head, biting back a smile. "Get back to work before I burn lunch."
"I'd still eat it. Save some for me," Lucas said before hanging up.
Later, Bella stood at the school gate, watching the stream of children pour out with backpacks swinging and laughter filling the air.
As she waited for Rachel, Bella glanced around—habit, more than paranoia. But there was nothing unsettling. No shadows lingering in corners, no strange eyes watching her from across the street.
She realized then that she hadn't felt that prickle of anxiety at all today.
Not when she left the house.
Not on her way here.
And definitely not when Lucas was near. 'There's something about him… something that makes me feel safe. She thought.'
"Mommy!" Rachel's voice rang out, breaking her thoughts.
Bella turned just in time to catch her in a tight hug. "Hey, sweetheart. How was school?"
"Good! Miss Allen gave me a star today because I helped Mia with her painting!"
"Wow, my little artist." Bella kissed her forehead and took her hand as they walked toward their house.
Rachel skipped beside her. "Dada told me something when he came to drop me today."
"Oh? What did he say?"
"He asked if I was being good and told me to give you a hug when I see you," Rachel beamed, stopping suddenly. "Wait!"
She wrapped her arms around Bella's waist, nearly tripping them both. "There! Done!"
Bella laughed, her heart full. "You're the best."
Rachel looked up, her voice soft. "Dada called me little kitten. I like it when Dada calls me nicknames."
Bella glanced down at her. "Me too."
The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over them as they walked hand-in-hand to their sweet home, their laughter floating in the air like music.
The afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through the windows, casting a warm glow over the dining table. Lunch had been light and pleasant—Rachel had talked endlessly about school, about her friend Mia who brought cookies to share, and a funny story about a pencil rolling off the teacher's desk mid-lecture.
Bella smiled through most of it, nodding along, occasionally brushing a hand through Rachel's soft curls. Her thoughts, though, were flickering elsewhere.
That tiny flicker of unease she'd felt days ago seemed distant now. With Lucas around, and even now—with the house quiet and calm—she didn't feel watched anymore. Even out in the afternoon, picking up Rachel from school, there had been no shadow behind her, no prickle on her neck.
After cleaning up, Bella turned to Rachel with a soft smile. "Nap time?"
Rachel pouted. "Can I bring my drawing book to bed?"
"You can look at it, but just for a while," Bella replied, already reaching for her hand.
The two headed to the bedroom, their familiar routine unfolding in calm rhythm. Bella helped Rachel climb onto the bed and pulled the blanket halfway over her when the doorbell rang.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said gently, tucking the blanket under Rachel's feet. "Lie down and don't get up, alright?"
Rachel gave a sleepy nod, already snuggling into the pillows. Bella padded barefoot to the main door, smoothing her loose t-shirt. When she opened it, there was no one there—just a medium-sized cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat, plain and unmarked.
Her brows furrowed. 'No courier van in sight. No signature asked for. Strange.' Her subconscious mind told her something was wrong but her curiosity took over.
She picked it up cautiously. It wasn't heavy. Just… odd. There was no sender name, no label, no brand—just her name scribbled on the top in jagged handwriting.
A tight feeling gripped her chest as she brought it inside and set it on the hallway console. She glanced back toward the bedroom, making sure Rachel hadn't come out, then slowly peeled open the flaps of the box.
What she saw next stole the breath from her lungs. A human hand. Pale. Bloodless. The fingers slightly curled as if frozen mid-motion.
Her scream died in her throat. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth, her whole body beginning to shake violently. The room blurred through the tears that welled up in her eyes. She felt like she might vomit. Her knees nearly buckled. No no no no... She will hurt the baby if she collapse on the floor. Never in her dream she thought she will see something like this.
The box fell from her grip, landing on its side, the box flaps splaying open further.
Rachel. She wiped her face and glanced toward the hallway. If Rachel saw this—if Rachel ever saw this—
She quickly scrambled forward and shoved it closed, wrapping the edges of the cardboard with trembling hands as if that would erase the image seared into her memory.
Bella grabbed the box, hiding it beneath the console table and kicking a stray shoe in front of it. Heart pounding, she wiped her tears and sprinted back to the bedroom and quickly turned the lock.
Rachel peeked up from the pillow. "Mama? What happened?"
Bella forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just… just something I ordered for the kitchen came just now. Nothing special. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."
Rachel blinked, satisfied with the answer, and rolled over with her blanket. Bella sat beside her, hands still trembling under the covers.
She tried to calm her breathing, but her thoughts were spiraling. Who would send her something like this? And why?