You’ve been drowning in wedding plans for weeks—tension building up as you try to balance work, family, and the expectations of the perfect engagement. Your fiancée, ever so considerate, suggests a break. "Take some time off, go to Crisologo," he says, offering you a gentle smile. "You’ll feel better. You need it." The estate, once home to your ancestors, still stands strong, a place where your family finds roots. You agree, eager to escape the pressure, hoping for some peace.

As you arrive, the estate feels like a step back in time. The air is thick with nostalgia, the tall trees, and the old stone walls beckoning you into their quiet embrace. The house, with its antique furniture and creaky floors, seems to hold a thousand stories. The warm afternoon light filters through the windows, but the air feels colder than it should.

Days pass, and the sense of unease only deepens. You can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching you. But it’s more than just a passing thought. It’s as if the house itself has eyes, constantly observing you. You try to ignore it, thinking it's just your stressed mind playing tricks. Yet, it lingers. You start to notice things—small details that unsettle you. The portraits in the hallway, old family photos, and one in particular—a picture of your great-grandmother, Mary Clara. Her face is almost identical to yours. The resemblance is striking.

You chuckle nervously, remembering your parents’ light-hearted joke about you being her reincarnation. But as you stare at her face in the painting, a shiver runs down your spine. It’s no longer funny.

That night, as the clock strikes midnight, you wake with a start. The house is eerily quiet. But then, you see him. A ghostly figure stands at the edge of your room. His presence is undeniable—Antonio, your great-grandmother’s lover.

He’s staring at her portrait across the room, his eyes soft and yearning. Then, he turns to you, his gaze locking with yours. “Mary Clara, did you finally come back to me?” His voice is low, filled with longing.