TWO YEARS AFTER MY WIFE PASSED AWAY, I REMARRIED — AND WHEN I CAME BACK FROM A BUSINESS TRIP, MY DAUGHTER SAID: “DAD, THE NEW MOM IS DIFFERENT WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE.”
It had been two years since my wife’s passing when I decided to remarry, hoping to rebuild my family. My 5-year-old daughter, Sophie, and I moved into the large house of my new wife, Amelia, which she had inherited from her late parents. Amelia seemed kind and patient, a ray of light in our lives. At least, at first.
One night, after a business trip that lasted a week, Sophie hugged me tightly and whispered: “DAD, THE NEW MOM IS DIFFERENT WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE.” Her voice was trembling, and I felt chills all over my body.
“What do you mean, honey?” I asked gently, kneeling to look her in the eyes.
“She locks herself in the attic,” Sophie said. “I HEAR STRANGE NOISES. IT SCARES ME. SHE SAYS I CAN’T COME IN. AND… SHE’S MEAN.”
I was stunned. “Why do you say she’s mean, honey?” I asked, with my heart in my hand. “She makes me clean my room by myself and doesn’t give me ice cream, not even when I’m good,” Sophie replied.
The locked room caught my attention. I had noticed Amelia going in there, but I thought it was her personal space. Her behavior toward Sophie also deeply unsettled me. Had I made a mistake bringing her into our lives?
That night, unable to sleep, I heard the soft footsteps of Amelia heading toward the attic. I followed her. She entered the room and didn’t lock the door. My heart was pounding. Acting on impulse, I quickly opened the door and entered the room.
I was greeted by the sight of old boxes, forgotten memories, and layers of dust in the room. But something else caught my eye — a strange, large, ornate mirror leaning against the wall, almost covered by a tattered cloth. I had never seen it before, and yet, it felt oddly familiar. As I moved closer to it, I heard Amelia’s voice from behind me.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” she said coldly. “I told you, it’s my space.”
I turned to face her, my heart racing. “What is all this, Amelia? Why are you hiding things from me?”
She paused, her eyes flickering with something dark, before stepping toward the mirror. “It’s not what you think,” she said quietly. “Some things are better left forgotten.”
At that moment, I realized there was more to Amelia than I had ever imagined. She wasn’t just a woman I had married to give Sophie and me a second chance — she was hiding something, something that might tear our family apart.
The next few days were a blur of tension. I tried to talk to Sophie about what she had seen, but her responses were vague, almost like she was too afraid to speak. Amelia, on the other hand, seemed more distant, more unpredictable than ever before. She spent long hours in the attic, and I could feel an unease growing between us.
One night, as I lay in bed, I heard Sophie’s small voice through the door. “Dad, please help me.” I rushed to her room, finding her sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with fear.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked, sitting beside her.
“I saw her,” Sophie whispered, “in the attic… she wasn’t alone. There was someone else there. A man.”
The blood drained from my face. I had never told Sophie about the strange occurrences in the attic, but it seemed like she had witnessed something I couldn’t explain.
That was when everything changed.
I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I needed to confront Amelia, to demand the truth. But when I went upstairs to find her, the door to the attic was locked, and there was no sign of her. I called out, but there was no answer.
Panicking, I broke the lock on the door, only to find the attic empty, save for the mirror, which now appeared even more ominous in the dim light. As I reached out to touch it, the room seemed to grow colder, and for a split second, I saw something — or someone — reflected in the glass. My heart stopped. The figure in the mirror was not Amelia.
It was Sarah. My late wife.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through my mind, one I hadn’t heard in years: “Protect Sophie. Don’t let her fall into the same trap I did.”
Terror gripped me as the air around me seemed to shift, and the mirror began to crack. Amelia’s voice broke through the silence: “You shouldn’t have come here.”
Turning around, I saw her standing in the doorway, her eyes cold and distant.
“What are you doing, Amelia?” I demanded, my voice shaking.
She stepped forward slowly, her expression unreadable. “I never wanted you to find out,” she said softly. “But it’s too late now.”
In that moment, everything clicked. Amelia hadn’t just been hiding the attic from me — she had been hiding her past. And I had walked straight into it.
The woman I had married was not who I thought she was. And I had to decide, in that instant, whether I would protect my daughter from the same fate that had befallen my late wife.
With every ounce of strength, I took Sophie by the hand and led her out of the room, the mirror’s cracked surface reflecting our escape.
But as we left the house behind, I knew the real danger had only just begun. Amelia’s secrets would haunt us for the rest of our lives — unless we could break free before it was too late
