The morning light seeps through her curtains, soft and pale. Anastasya lies awake in bed, the ring still clasped in her hand. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep holding it.
A knock at her door.
Mother: “You’ll be late!”
Anastasya: “I’m up.”
She gets dressed mechanically, black tights, a pale pleated skirt, her usual vintage-style blouse with a lace collar. She loops a charm bracelet around her wrist, glancing briefly at the ring. No. That stays hidden, tucked inside a locket hanging beneath her shirt.
She grabs her bag, slips into her coat, and heads out.
...
On the Bus
Anastasya takes her usual seat near the window. The city rolls by in grey and gold. Her reflection in the glass looks the same, but something in her feels warped—like her soul is leaning sideways.
She touches the locket.
No one else can feel it, right?
...
First Period: Literature
The classroom buzzes with chatter until the teacher claps for attention. Anastasya opens her book, the Russian Gothic Poetry, but the words blur.
The memory of Haruki’s crimson-gold eyes flashes across her vision.
Teacher: “Miss Volkov, are you with us?”
Anastasya: “Yes. Sorry.”
Her pencil taps nervously against the page. She copies notes without thinking.
...
Lunch Break
She meets her usual group in the corner of the courtyard, Tanya, Darya, and Sasha. They're already unwrapping their bentos.
Tanya: “So? Did you chicken out last night or what?”
Anastasya lowers her voice, poking at her rice.
Anastasya: “I went.”
Darya: “Wait, actually?”
Sasha: “No way. You’re messing with us.”
Anastasya: “I found it. The shrine.”
They all pause. Even Tanya looks surprised.
Tanya: “Okay, okay, what did you see? Ghosts? Cursed dolls? A dead monk?”
Anastasya hesitates. The urge to tell them everything trembles in her throat. About Haruki. The ring. The way the deity inside him recognized her.
But she swallows it.
Anastasya: “There was a boy. He lives there. Sort of.”
Sasha: “What, like... a shrine kid? A monk?”
Anastasya: “Something like that.”
Darya: “Was he cute?”
Anastasya doesn’t answer. Her cheeks are faintly pink.
Tanya: “Oh my god, you like him!”
Anastasya: “No. It’s not like that. I just... I’m going back tonight.”
They all stare.
Darya: “You’re going back?”
Sasha: “Girl, are you okay?”
Tanya: “You’re braver than me. If some mysterious guy told me to come back to a haunted shrine, I’d throw salt at him and block him.”
Anastasya smiles faintly but doesn't explain further.
She eats the rest of her lunch in silence, the sound of their voices distant. Her fingers ghost over the locket.
...
After the final bell, Anastasya walks down the corridor, her bag slung over one shoulder. Her shoes echo softly as students chatter and move around her.
She reaches her locker. Spins the dial. Click.
As she opens it, something slips free and flutters to the floor.
She blinks. Kneels.
Anastasya: “What…?”
It’s a small, folded envelope. Cream-colored. Unmarked, except for a single letter etched in dark ink on the back:
H.
Her breath catches. Her fingers tremble as she picks it up and clutches it close.
Anastasya: “It’s from him… but how?”
She glances around. No one's watching.
Opening the note slowly, carefully, she reads the short, elegantly written message inside:
"You looked at me like I was real.
And for the first time, the voice inside me went quiet.
Come back, bride of the storm.
I will be waiting at the hour our hearts first met.
—H."
A chill prickles her spine, but her heart flutters.
Anastasya: “Bride of the storm… Haruki…”
She folds the note back into its envelope and slides it carefully into her bag, fingers resting over the flap as if it might vanish.
Anastasya: “Tonight. I’ll go. Just like I said I would.”
With a final glance down the hallway, she closes her locker and walks out into the gray dusk.
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