The morning brought sunlight and the faint sound of birds outside their hotel window. Elena stirred first, her movements delicate as she stretched beneath the covers. Daniel pretended to still be asleep, unsure why he hesitated to meet her gaze.
"Good morning," her voice finally came, soft and warm.
Daniel opened his eyes, forcing a smile. "Morning."
Elena leaned over, kissing him gently on the forehead. "Last night felt like a dream. Did it feel like that for you too?"
Daniel hesitated. "It did. Everything went so fast."
Elena chuckled, slipping out of bed to head to the bathroom. "Well, welcome to married life. No more dreaming—just reality from here on out."
Her words felt heavier than they should have. Daniel sat up, running a hand through his hair. As she disappeared behind the bathroom door, the faint sound of water running, his mind wandered back to the ceremony. That whisper. Her odd phrasing. The way she'd deflected his questions.
He needed answers, but he wasn't sure how to ask without sounding like a lunatic.
Later that morning, as they walked through the lobby to check out, an elderly woman sitting near the hotel fireplace caught Daniel's eye. Her gaze was fixed on Elena, her face pale and drawn. She clutched a rosary in one hand, her knuckles white with tension.
"Elena," Daniel whispered, nudging her arm.
"Hmm?"
"That woman... she's staring at you."
Elena turned, her expression composed, but when she saw the woman, something flickered across her face—recognition, perhaps? Fear? It was gone as quickly as it had come.
"Let's go," Elena said, her voice tight as she gripped Daniel's arm and led him toward the exit.
"Wait," Daniel said, pulling back slightly. "Do you know her?"
"No," Elena said sharply. Then, softening her tone, she added, "She probably just thinks I look like someone she knows. It happens all the time."
Daniel glanced back at the woman, who now seemed to be muttering under her breath, her eyes still locked on Elena. His skin prickled with unease.
The drive home was quiet. Daniel kept glancing at Elena, who seemed unbothered, her gaze focused on the road ahead.
"I don't think I've ever seen you without that pendant," Daniel said, breaking the silence.
Elena's hand instinctively moved to the necklace, her fingers brushing the cool metal. "It's... special to me. A family heirloom."
"From your parents?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Something like that."
"You never really talk about them," Daniel said cautiously.
"There's not much to say," Elena replied, her tone flat.
Daniel nodded, sensing the wall she was putting up. But now he was even more determined to climb over it.
That night, back in their home, Daniel unpacked their wedding gifts while Elena prepared tea in the kitchen. The house felt different somehow, as though it had shifted slightly in their absence. Shadows seemed longer, darker.
He unwrapped a small, ornately carved box from one of the guests. It contained a card with no name, only a single sentence scrawled in neat handwriting:
"She must never forget the price."
Daniel's breath hitched. He looked around, half-expecting someone to step out of the shadows.
"Elena?" he called, his voice steady despite the unease coiling in his gut.
She appeared in the doorway, holding two steaming mugs. "What is it?"
He hesitated, holding up the card. "This was in one of the gifts. Do you know what it means?"
Elena's face remained neutral, but her grip on the mugs tightened. "Probably some weird joke. You know how people are."
"Do you think it's about you?"
"No," she said firmly. "It's nothing, Daniel. Don't let it ruin our first night home."
She walked over, placing a mug in front of him. Her smile was disarming, but her eyes didn't quite meet his.
The unease persisted. In the days that followed, Daniel noticed subtle changes in Elena. She was still the woman he'd fallen in love with—kind, intelligent, and graceful—but there were moments when she seemed... distant.
He woke one night to find her sitting by the window, staring out into the darkness. The pendant around her neck seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight.
"Elena?" he whispered, sitting up.
She didn't turn. "Go back to sleep, Daniel."
"What are you doing?"
"Listening," she said, her voice barely audible.
"To what?"
Elena finally turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Just... the night. Go back to sleep."
Daniel's chest tightened as he watched her slip back into bed. He lay awake long after she'd fallen asleep, his mind racing with questions he wasn't sure he wanted answered.
One morning, Daniel finally decided to confront her.
"Elena," he said as they sat at the breakfast table. "I need to ask you something."
She looked up, her eyes wary but calm. "Go ahead."
"That whisper during our vows. What did it mean?"
She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. For a moment, she said nothing, then placed the fork down carefully. "I told you. It was nothing."
"No," Daniel said, his voice firmer now. "You said, 'Till the end of us all.' That's not nothing. Please, Elena. Just tell me the truth."
Her eyes softened, but there was a sadness in them that made his stomach churn. "Daniel, there are things about me... about my life... that are better left in the past."
"I'm your husband now," he said, reaching for her hand. "If there's something I need to know, you have to tell me."
She pulled her hand away, standing abruptly. "Not now, Daniel. Please."
"Elena—"
"I said not now!" she snapped, her voice sharper than he'd ever heard.
The air seemed to grow heavier, the light in the room dimming ever so slightly. Elena's hands trembled as she turned away, her back to him.
Daniel sat there, his heart pounding so fast. He didn't understand what was happening, but one thing was clear at that moment: this was only the beginning.