79. A Sense of Normalcy

Third Person's POV:

The late afternoon sun bathed the street in golden hues as Rose made her way home, her steps light, almost carefree. A warm breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the distant laughter of neighborhood kids.

It felt like a good day. A normal day.

And normal was exactly what she needed.

Today had been a good day—one of the better ones, actually.

Although she had spent the last week convincing herself that whatever strange occurrences had plagued her home were merely figments of her imagination—overactive nerves, nothing more.

Doors and windows sometimes had a mind of their own, and drafts could be stronger than expected. That's all it was.

Just her mind playing tricks on her.

But as they kept happening, even her own mind couldn't conjure up any more excuses anymore. It was becoming real increasingly quick.

Until yesterday.

Since last night no weird occurrences, no strange feelings creeping up her spine, no doors flinging open on their own, happened.

This little break left Rose feeling uplifted in her mind and relieved in her soul. Too soon yes but maybe, just maybe, whatever had been toying with her these past few days had gotten bored and moved on. 

Yesterday went quiet and perfectly normal and so did this morning.

She huffed out a breath, pushing her sunglasses onto her head.

See? She told herself.

It was all probably in your head, after all. Stress, paranoia… overthinking. You're fine. Everything is fine.

Yet, as she reached her porch, something flickered at the edge of her mind—a hesitation. An intrusive thought whispering,

What if today isn't different? What if you're just fooling yourself?

Rose rolled her eyes at her own dramatic brain and pushed the door open.

The moment she stepped inside, she instantly regressed back to her precarious habits that she have adopted lately.

Because, despite the familiar scent of home—fresh linen, a hint of vanilla from the candle she forgot to blow out, and the faintest trace of Jake's cologne lingering in the air—she found herself scanning the living room like she expected something to lunge at her.

Tentatively walking around Rose scanned her surroundings skeptically. Nothing seemed out of the place. No windows or doors left open.

Under the warm sunlight it felt cozy and relaxing, the quiet even comforting. 

Her gaze flickered to the kitchen, the hallway, the staircase. Nothing. 

Ah there is no place like home, nice and comfy. That is, if it's not haunted. Which it is not.

Rose thought to herself but immediately stepped near the glass pane to check the wooden patio out back. checking for any sign of crimson flower.

Finding nothing brought another wave of joy over her.

She scoffed at herself. Seriously? One minute she was determined to act normal, and now she was standing here like a character in a horror movie, expecting something to jump out of the shadows.

A breath of relief left her lips, and she shook her head, letting out a small laugh. You're just being ridiculous.

Smiling to herself, Rose kicked off her shoes, tossing her bag onto the couch before humming a song under her breath. 

The tension in her shoulders eased. Maybe, just maybe, she could finally put this whole thing behind her.

The house wasn't haunted. The walls weren't breathing. And there certainly wasn't something watching her every move.

Feeling lighter, she headed upstairs, eager to wash off the day and unwind. A long, hot shower was in order.

The scorching water rolled over her skin, chasing away any lingering tension.

She stood there longer than necessary, letting the steam fill the space, letting the warmth seep into her bones, washing away the weight she hadn't realized she was carrying.

Maybe she had been too caught up in her own head. 

By the time she stepped out of the shower, steam billowed around her, rolling out into the hallway like thick fog.

The scalding water had turned her skin a shade too warm, but she didn't care. She felt refreshed, almost rejuvenated—like the paranoia had been scrubbed away along with the stress clinging to her.

But as she padded toward her bedroom, towel-drying her damp hair, she caught sight of the darkening sky through the window.

Signaling the fast-approaching evening. She groaned.

In her true gen z fashion, Rose had taken forever in the bathroom. Again.

The sun was dipping behind the trees, painting the horizon in hues of orange and deep violet.

Her stomach rumbled in protest, reminding her that the only thing it had received today was a pathetic excuse for a salad.

With a sigh, she threw on a hoodie and shorts before checking the time.

Almost seven. Jake would be home in time for dinner. Perfect.

They could have a nice family time watching old Disney movies with their dinner. 

The thought of watching films from her childhood always brought a sense of easy joy to Rose. Grinning to herself, she skipped down the stairs, determined to start dinner before he arrived.

With renewed energy, she skipped downstairs and into the kitchen, flipping the lights on with an easy flick. The familiar space greeted her, cozy and welcoming, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights.

Everything was normal.

She walked over to the fridge, humming the same tune from earlier.

"Alright, let's make something quick," Rose muttered to herself, grabbing a few ingredients for a simple chili she has learned to make from her aunt back in Virginia.

The thought of her aunt Sarah brought a smile to her face and after making a mental note that Rose would make sure to give her a call she moved to place the items on the working top.

Balancing the cans and produce in her arms, she turned to place them on the counter—

And then—