THE ONES WHO STAYS SILENT

Velma stood by the window in the east corridor, watching Daniel's silhouette in the garden.

He hadn't said much all morning.

She'd watched him walk the perimeter of the house twice. Alone. His head slightly lowered, hands behind his back, as if he were thinking too deeply about something he couldn't quite name. He didn't notice her watching.

Not once.

She hugged herself, rubbing her arms as the silence of the house settled around her again like a cold blanket. That name—Azrah'el—still whispered faintly in her ears from last night's sleep. Daniel had said it was "just a bad dream," but she didn't believe him.

Not anymore.

Not after everything.

As she turned to head back down the hallway, she found herself face to face with Mrs. Williams.

The woman stood there quietly, her hands clasped in front of her apron, lips pursed just slightly.

Velma flinched at the surprise. "Oh—Mrs. Williams. I didn't hear you."

"I've been meaning to speak with you, dear," she said softly.

Velma blinked. "About what?"

Mrs. Williams tilted her head, her eyes sharp and sad all at once. "About Daniel. And you. And this house."

Velma felt her stomach drop. "You know, don't you?"

Mrs. Williams nodded once, then stepped closer, gesturing toward the sitting room. "Come. This hallway has too many ears."

---

They sat across from one another by the tall windows, the lace curtains fluttering gently as the breeze slid through the slightly opened panes.

Mrs. Williams folded her hands in her lap. "I raised him, you know. Not from a child—but close enough. His parents moved often, always traveling abroad. I was here. I saw him through his first steps in this house, his fever nights, his questions."

Velma listened, waiting.

"I knew something was different about him from the beginning," the older woman continued. "The way he never got sick. The way animals never feared him. The way rooms would grow cold when he cried, or hot when he was angry. The walls would creak even when the air was still."

Velma felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Mrs. Williams looked her directly in the eyes. "Because some truths aren't kind. And because love, even twisted with secrets, is still love."

She sighed deeply. "But now... you're asking questions. You've started noticing things. And you deserve to be warned."

Velma leaned forward. "Then tell me the truth."

Mrs. Williams hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted briefly, something she never did. "The name came back to him last night, didn't it?"

Velma froze. "How did you know?"

"Because names have power, Velma," she said slowly. "And that one hasn't been spoken in this house in many years. But when it echoes again, the air remembers."

The older woman's face grew tight. "Azrah'el is not just a name. It's a title. A mark. It belonged to something ancient. Something once summoned... and then sealed inside a body to make it human."

"Daniel," Velma whispered.

Mrs. Williams nodded gravely. "The body is Daniel's. The soul inside it... that was once Azrah'el. He doesn't know what he was. And you must not push him too far, too fast."

"Why not?" Velma asked. "Don't you think he deserves to know?"

"Yes," Mrs. Williams said. "But truth is not light. It's fire. And if you give it to someone unprepared, it will burn them from the inside out."

Velma's throat tightened. "But if he finds out on his own—"

"That's worse," Mrs. Williams cut in. "He'll have no anchor. No one to remind him who he's become. That's why you're here."

Velma stared at her, overwhelmed. "You're saying I'm his—anchor?"

"Yes," Mrs. Williams said simply. "You are the only thing grounding him to this world. The only one he chose without influence, without memory, without prophecy. If he falls into who he was, he will lose who he is. And you must not let that happen."

Velma sat back slowly. Her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

"And if I dig deeper?" she asked.

Mrs. Williams grew quiet.

"If I read more, search more—if I try to learn the whole story... what then?"

The woman's eyes flickered, and her voice dropped to a near whisper.

"Then the house will wake."

Velma stared.

"What does that mean?"

But Mrs. Williams didn't answer. Instead, she slowly rose from her chair, straightened her apron, and looked toward the stairs where Daniel's footsteps now echoed faintly from above.

"You love him," she said softly. "So don't look for the shadow behind him. Look at the man in front of you. That's who needs you most."

And then, just as silently as she had arrived, she turned and left.

---

Velma sat there long after.

Mrs. Williams' words wrapped tightly around her mind, sinking deeper with every breath.

Azrah'el is not just a name.

You are his anchor.

If he falls into who he was... he'll lose who he is.

She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what kind of love had fallen into her hands.

And if love alone would be enough to hold back whatever was buried inside the man she married.