I couldn’t tell if the coffee I was sipping was unusually bitter that morning, or if I was just feeling a bit emotional.

Most likely the latter.

Divorce can really hit hard, especially when you’re the one putting pen to paper, fully aware that you can’t provide your partner with what they desire most.

At thirty-five, I’ve come to terms with the reality of my infertility. Yet, it didn’t lessen the pain of seeing my marriage fall apart because of it. Seth, my ex-husband, had an intense longing for children

I get it, I really do, but life had a different path in store for me.

“Seth,” he said one evening, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. We were sitting face to face in our small kitchen, with the leftovers from dinner sitting on the table between us, slowly cooling down. The space that used to feel warm and welcoming now seemed cold and stifling, reflecting the condition of our relationship.

I don’t know how much longer I can handle this…” Seth said, his hands shaking as he nervously played with his fork.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling my heart drop as I realized where this conversation was going.

“I want kids, Will. Time isn’t on our side, and we both know that. Plus, we haven’t had much success with finding the right foster kids or surrogates.”

I let out a heavy sigh, my gaze fixed on the ceiling as his words hung in the air around me. “What do you want from me? Should I walk away? End our marriage? Or… give you a chance to begin anew?”

Seth remained silent. His silence spoke volumes, answering all my questions without a single word.

Tears filled my eyes, but I quickly blinked them back, determined not to let him see how deeply his words affected me. “Seth, you know how much I care about you. We’ve shared so many experiences together. I really believed we could figure this out.”

He shook his head, a stern look crossing his face. “I don’t know, Will. Maybe it’s time we face the reality that having a family together just isn’t in the cards for us.”

A wave of regret washed over me as I came to terms with the fact that our hopes for a future filled with children were fading away. “Is that really what you want? To walk away from us over something beyond our control?”

Seth leaned in closer, his eyes filled with a desperate hope. “I don’t want to throw in the towel, but I just can’t keep going on like this. The relentless pressure and the never-ending talks are really driving a wedge between us.”

I leaned over the table and gently took his hand in mine. “Let’s figure this out, Seth. There are always other paths we can take. We just need to look at them together.”

He withdrew his hand, clearly showing his frustration. “I’m not sure, Will. Perhaps we’ve been putting in too much effort.”

With that, he got up suddenly, leaving me sitting by myself at the table, and the room felt more empty than it ever had.

The next few weeks were a rollercoaster of feelings. I lay awake at night, unable to find rest, going over our talks again and again in my head. The dreams that Seth and I once shared—of a family and a home brimming with laughter and love—now seemed like distant memories, slowly fading into the backdrop of my new reality.

In my quest for a bit of tranquility, I made the choice to begin anew. I was looking for a new beginning, somewhere I could find healing and piece my life back together. After months of looking, I finally came across a lovely two-bedroom house in the peaceful town of Willow Creek. It was just right—warm and inviting, nestled in nature, and easy on my wallet.

The house exuded a nostalgic charm, featuring creaky floors, floral wallpaper, and a subtle scent of wood polish that made it feel like a time capsule. It used to belong to an older gentleman named Mr. Nolan, who sadly passed away a few months back. Lauren, his granddaughter, who received the property, wasn’t quite ready to part with it and chose to rent it out instead.

Despite its oddities, the house seemed like the ideal spot to begin anew. Or at least, be a space where I can tend to my wounds in solitude before I move forward. It felt peaceful, warm, and simple—just what I was looking for.

Moving to Willow Creek brought a mix of excitement and a bit of nervousness. I gathered my things, saying goodbye to the city that had felt like both a sanctuary and a cage for so many years. The journey to Willow Creek felt endless, allowing me plenty of moments to ponder the life I was leaving behind and the unknown future that lay ahead.

As I arrived, I was welcomed by the peaceful charm of the town. Willow Creek was a charming place, featuring tree-lined streets, cozy shops, and a tight-knit community that felt like a peaceful escape from the busy life of Detroit. The house was tucked away at the end of a peaceful cul-de-sac, providing a feeling of privacy and seclusion that was both soothing and a little unsettling.

While I was unpacking my belongings, a wave of emotions washed over me—relief, hope, and a subtle hint of unease lingering in the background. Relocating to a new place felt like an opportunity to reinvent myself, to release the weight of the past and welcome a future that I had always been too afraid to believe was possible.

Life in Willow Creek began on a pleasant note. I got into a groove of hitting up the local market for groceries, enjoying strolls in the nearby park, and gradually getting to know my neighbors better. Lauren, Mr. Nolan’s granddaughter, was a nice woman—friendly yet somewhat reserved. We shared friendly hellos, yet there was a quiet acknowledgment between us that we both cherished our personal space.

On a chilly autumn evening, while I was getting dinner ready, I heard the front door creak open, drawing my focus. I glanced up and saw Lauren in the doorway, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“How’s everything going?” she inquired, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m doing well, thank you,” I said, making an effort to sound upbeat even though the sadness from my divorce still hung over me. “I’m just working on getting everything sorted out.”

She gave a nod and stepped inside. “If you need anything at all, just let me know. I know how challenging it can be to move to a new town.”

“Thanks, Lauren. I really appreciate it,” I said, managing a smile.

We talked for a little while about the weather and what’s happening around town before she said her goodbyes, leaving me to ponder on my own. I couldn’t help but sense there was something deeper about her, something beyond what was visible, but I pushed that thought aside and concentrated on the bright side of my new life.

After a few weeks of settling into my new life in Willow Creek, I began to notice something strange about the house. The basement, once locked away and seldom visited, seemed to call out to me. The room was tiny and messy, packed with worn-out furniture, boxes brimming with forgotten trinkets, and the leftover bits of Mr. Nolan’s life.

One afternoon, while I was tidying up the basement, a sudden loud crash echoed from upstairs. I hurried up the stairs, my heart pounding, eager to find out what was going on. To my surprise, the basement door was slightly open, and I could hear faint sounds coming from inside.

I couldn’t help myself; my curiosity led me to dig a little deeper. As I made my way down the creaky stairs, the scent of damp earth and neglect wafted up to greet me. The basement was softly illuminated, with just one bulb dangling from the ceiling, creating haunting shadows that danced across the space.

I started going through the boxes, searching for anything that might hold value or meaning. While I was shifting an old bookshelf, a soft whimpering noise caught my attention. As I got closer to the source of the noise, my heart raced in my chest.