As Mirabel sank into her couch, hoping to calm the wholesome wave of emotions washing over her, her eyes drifted back to the empty chocolate box. A strange, tingling sensation nudged her, almost as if something unseen was summoning her spirit toward it. Hesitantly, she reached for the box.
A sudden crackling sound came from the kitchen, startling her. She paused, hand mid-air, but decided to ignore it, whispering a silent prayer as she opened the box. To her shock, an inscription was etched beneath the lid: "if you're reading this now, then you've had the encounter ".
Her heart skipped. "This writing wasn't here before," she whispered, biting her lip. Trembling, she threw the box onto the floor and froze, her gaze fixed on it. Fear coursed through her veins, magnifying every sound around her. The faintest creak of the walls now seemed deafening.
Unable to resist, Mirabel reached for the box again, desperate to make sense of what she'd just seen. But when she opened it, the inscription was gone. Her breath caught in her throat. This time, she hurled the box with such force it clattered across the floor. Terror gripped her. She ran out of the apartment, ignoring the sweat streaming down her face and the alarmed stares of her neighbors.
Standing outside, Mirabel's hands trembled and thought to herself "what if I was just hallucinating? But I did see a writing in that box", she bit her lip.
She couldn't linger here for long; the attention would only worsen her fear. Summoning what little courage she had left, she darted back inside to grab her purse from the floor. Without thinking, she ran out into the street, aimlessly deciding where to go.
After deliberating, she dismissed visiting her best friend was too far or her workplace was on the other hand overwhelming. Finally, she headed to a nearby playground, hoping the sight of children playing would calm her.
The playground was bustling. Only one bench remained unoccupied, tucked near a line of bushes. Reluctantly, Mirabel sat down, still replaying the events in her mind. A slim waiter, dressed sharply in a black uniform, approached her with a polite smile. His neat haircut and poised demeanor stood out, but Mirabel, still on edge, snapped at him.
"What do you want? I didn't ask for anything!" she said , glaring at him.
The waiter, unflinching, replied gently, "I apologize, ma'am. You seemed unsettled, and I thought you might like a drink."
"I don't want anything! Leave me alone!" she barked.
The waiter bowed slightly and left. As he walked away, regret washed over her. "What's wrong with me?" she muttered, tears welling up. She wasn't the type to lash out at strangers. Was the stress from that weddin getting to her?
She buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly, when movement caught her eye. A man seated three benches away was staring at her. Their eyes locked for a moment before he stood up and approached her. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and shorts, his face partially covered by a cap, he exuded a peculiar presence.
"Can I sit here?" he asked, pointing to the empty spot beside her.
"Fine," she muttered, wiping her tears. "But I'm not in the mood for small talk."
The man sat silently for a moment before leaning closer. "I don't know you, and you don't know me," he began in a soft yet firm tone. "But I must warn you: you're about to step into the most dreadful chapter of your life. Only then will you realize how strong you truly are."
Mirabel's head whipped toward him, her breath hitching. Before she could respond, he stood and walked away. When she glanced back a second later, he was gone. Bewildered, she scanned the park, but there was no trace of him.
A chilling realization sank in and she thought; she had to get rid of the chocolate box. Rushing to grab her purse, her phone buzzed. The unknown number made her hesitate. It could be Mom, she thought, though they weren't on speaking terms. Ignoring it, she continued to walk away, but the phone rang again. This time, she answered.
"Hello, Mirabel. It's me, Favour," a panicked voice said.
"Favour? Who's this?" Mirabel asked, trying to place the name.
"It's your cousin," the voice replied, hurried. "Your mom… she collapsed. We've rushed her to the hospital. This is the second time."
Mirabel's heart stopped. "She collapsed?, this is the second time? What do you mean? When was the first?"
"She collapsed at my wedding and there's no time to start explaining. Please, pack your things and come to Abuja immediately. She needs you."
"Okay," Mirabel stammered. "I'll be there."
As she hung up, a crushing weight pressed on her chest. With tears blurring her vision, she flagged a taxi to her workplace, knowing she had no choice but to face this storm whether she likes it or not.