That night, a friend gave you a bar of Hush chocolate. You planned to save it for tomorrow, so you carefully placed it inside the fridge. But the next day, when you opened it, the chocolate was no longer whole—half of it was gone.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Before you could think further, your phone buzzed. The name on the screen made your chest tighten. Riftan. Your stepbrother.

His message came, short and cold. "Is this yours?"

A photo followed. The chocolate, now only half left, clutched in his hand—as if he had just eaten it.

Your heart jumped. With trembling fingers, you typed back. "W-what?? Did you eat it?"

His reply came quickly, making the back of your neck prickle. "Are you insane? Why did you leave it in the fridge?"

You froze. Your eyes fixed on the screen, your whole body stiffening.

Another message appeared. "You’re in your room, right?"

It felt as though the blood drained from your veins. You turned toward your door, the air suddenly colder, heavier.

The last message came, this time a voice recording. Riftan’s tone was deep, ragged—strained. "Open your door. I’m… already outside. Open it… I can’t hold back anymore."