Honeymooning with my husband, we were tucked away on an island retreat.

At 8 p.m., an old mute lady had suddenly shown up at our hotel room door.

She was clutching a stark white note in her hand: [He's planning to murder you!]

"Knock, knock, knock!"

Mike was showering, and I was knee-deep in our suitcase when that unsettling knocking started.

It caught me off-guard.

Who could it have been at this time?

The hotel staff have a bell for that.

Besides, wouldn't the front desk have given us a ring first?

It was just Mike and me here for our honeymoon.

No acquaintances around these parts.

Who'd have popped up looking for us?

Through the peephole, all I could see was this old woman, her clothes ragged and hanging off her.

Her expression was all kinds of worried, her eyes murky with fright, lips quivering.

She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

But it was just a little old lady. I eased up and cracked the door just enough to talk.

"Yes? How can I help you?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"Uh... uh... uh..."

She stammered, her hands flailing, struggling to find her words.

"Come again?"

I was clueless about what she was trying to get across.

Realizing I wasn't getting it, she became more distressed, her eyes welling up, her gestures more pronounced.

It looked urgent.

I shouldn't have kept her waiting.

I softened, fishing out a pen and paper from my purse and slipping it through the door gap.

She wrote something in a hurry and thrust the paper back at me.

On it, scrawled in shaky letters: [He's going to kill you!]

Excuse me?

This lady had lost it, right?

I'd have been crazy to stick around.

"Spout any more crazy, and I'm calling the cops!" I warned her, then slammed the door shut and double-locked it for good measure.

It's a mad world out there, with every kind of people.

Just last week, I'd read about newlyweds lured from their hotel. Still missing.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

Good thing I hadn't hesitated.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

My pride in my quick thinking was short-lived as the knocks echoed again.

The same gentle pattern, just enough to be audible in the living room.

I took another look.

It was her again.

What now?

I was getting a bit spooked, thinking about dialing the front desk.

She must have felt my gaze because she lifted the note once more to the peephole.

This time it read: [You're Jessica Sands, your husband's Mike Sands. You're here to celebrate your love.]

She knew us?

If she did, then when she said "he", she meant Mike!

My husband, plotting against me?!

I gasped, a cold dread slithering up my spine like a serpent.

What more did she know?

I gathered my courage, shaky hands and all, and pulled the door open to ask her directly.

But she had vanished!

I stuck my head out, scanning the hallway—nothing.

"Jess?"

It was Mike.

I slammed the door, my heart racing.

"What happened? Who was knocking?"

His hair was damp as he wiped it with a towel.

I dodged his look, my pulse racing. "Nothing, thought I heard something, probably just the wind."

"Should we grab a bite?" I deflected, settling back on the sofa, and cracking open the room service that had just arrived.

Our flight was early tomorrow.

After a week on the road, we were pretty beat, figured we'd just eat in tonight amidst the packing.

But I couldn't shake the old woman's words, and my appetite had vanished.

I just nibbled on some bread.

Mike, clearly hungrier, cleaned up the leftovers.

Everything seemed normal until...

Something's off!

One dish was a chilled beef salad sprinkled with green onions.

Mike had never been one for onions, yet that night, he hadn't missed a single one.

Was this man really the Mike I knew?

My heart was racing, tinged with a whisper of fear.

Mike was swiftly handling the dishes, my gaze locked on his arm.

There was a light pink scar on his brawny arm, a badge from when we were new, trying to shield me, and a shard of glass got him instead.

At that moment, I was certain—the man before me was indeed Mike.

"Noticed the beef was loaded with onions," I dropped casually.

He shrugged it off, "Really? Must've wolfed it down without tasting much."

Really?

That can't be right!

He's super sensitive to onions—could tell if they were even near his food and would refuse to eat it.

How could he possibly not have noticed?

I was about to respond when the doorbell chimed.

The hotel staff was there to pick up the dishes, and Mike took the chance to ask them to fix a clogged drain.

His phone was still on the table, lighting up suddenly.

I sneaked a peek instinctively.

My heart skipped a beat.

The screen showed a chilling message: [When are you going to do it...?]

Mike was plotting to kill me!

"Jess?" His voice called out, sounding a bit strained as he quickly pocketed his phone, wary of me seeing too much.

"What's up?" I managed to ask, feigning calm.

"Let's stretch our legs and clear our heads with a walk," he suggested, grabbing his jacket from the table and signaling for me to follow.

As he threw on his jacket, something shiny slipped from the lining and clattered to the floor.

It was a knife!

Was he planning on using it outside?

A chill ran down my spine.

Panic set in, and every sense heightened.

No, I couldn't go outside—not with cameras everywhere here in the safety of the hotel.

He bent down swiftly, retrieving the knife.

As it caught the light, I instinctively stepped back, distancing myself while my hands searched behind me.

My fingers closed around a hotel umbrella, which I gripped firmly.

Mike examined the knife, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? How did this fruit knife get in my jacket?"

He casually placed it back on the table, pushing me, "Let's hit the road, come on."

My hands were sweaty, the umbrella handle slipping and falling with a thud.

I looked down and cleared my throat awkwardly, "I think I'll stay in... feeling a bit off, need to sleep early."

Mike paused, his disappointment clear as day.

"It's a perfect night for a stroll, come on!"

I shook my head again.

He pressed on, "Jess, I'm always swamped at work, we rarely get these moments. Let's make the most of it!"

I grew more agitated, raising my voice, "I said no! Go by yourself if you're so keen!"

He glanced down and sighed softly, "Alright, rest up then."

And with that, he was gone.

I tiptoed to the door and watched through the peephole as his figure receded down the hallway.

I finally relaxed, feeling a temporary relief.

"Phew..."

I slumped into the sofa, letting out a long, relieved sigh.

Now what?

Call the cops?

But that old woman's note was pointed inside—cameras couldn't have caught it.

And the incriminating text was on Mike's phone.

No concrete evidence.

Would the cops even take my word for it?

And if Mike knew I was onto him, what would stop him from acting right then and there...?

Thoughts swirling, I was lost in a sea of confusion.

My goodness!

Maybe it was best to pack up and make a break for it before deciding anything else.

"Knock, knock, knock..."

That sound again at the door.

The old woman, perhaps?

Just what I needed—I had a slew of questions for her.

Dropping my suitcase, I swung the door open.

"Jessica, looking pretty chipper tonight!"

It was a tall girl standing there.

"Mandy!"

My heart leaped—my best friend had come.

I yanked her inside and poured out everything that had happened tonight.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with feigned shock, then burst into laughter, shaking uncontrollably.

Finally, she pointed at me, laughing, "Jess, are you out of your mind?!"

My puzzled look prompted her to explain, "Wondering why I'm here?"

"Your husband sent me! He felt bad about not popping the question in style and wanted to set up a memorable proposal tonight. You wouldn't budge, so he sent me to fetch you."

That explained it. But the old woman—what was her deal?

Mandy rolled her eyes, "You're a grad student, for crying out loud. Everyone knows not to chat up strangers."

"She knew our names," I offered weakly.

Mandy scoffed, "Info leaks are a dime a dozen these days! Had you gone with her, who knows? You might've ended up in a real fix. You hear about it all the time—innocent people led astray, ending up who knows where. They'd have you married off in the sticks!" She laughed heartily.

That did make sense.

I laughed awkwardly, ashamed of my earlier panic, swiftly steering the conversation elsewhere, "Let's head over then."

"It's chilly out! I'll grab one of your coats," she said, heading to the bedroom.

I tidied my hair a bit.

The curtains blew in from the cold breeze.

A shadow was fixed outside the window.

It was the old woman again!

She was pressing a white paper against the glass, pounding it urgently, her eyes brimming with tears. She seemed desperate.

Driven by a sudden burst of curiosity, I moved closer to make out the words on the paper.

[Run! Or you'll die!]

"That green coat's new, huh? Looks sharp on you."

Mandy strutted out in a green coat, her smile a tad strained, her eyes catching an eerie glint in the dim light.

I was still reeling from the shock.

Just like that, the old lady had vanished again.

I flung open the window, the icy breeze snapping me back to reality.

We were on the second floor—how could she just vanish into thin air?

Mandy was admiring her reflection in the mirror, clearly digging into her look.

But she always said green washed her out, swore she'd never wear it, and even advised me against it.

"Let's roll!" she called, snagging her purse from the sofa and signaling me to come along.

The image of the old woman's tear-stained eyes haunted me.

Suddenly, I wasn't feeling it anymore.

Before I could get a word out, Mandy had already swung the door open and stepped out. Reluctantly, I followed.

To my astonishment, the old woman was now lying motionless right outside our door.

Mandy breezed right past her, unfazed.

How could she just step over someone lying there?

A wave of fear washed over me, but the urge to help prevailed.

I had questions for the old lady, so I didn't chase after Mandy. Instead, I dialed for an ambulance right there.

Mandy circled back, clearly annoyed, "Jess, what's the hold-up? Let's go!"

I couldn't respond in time.

The old lady's eyes suddenly snapped open, pinning me with a stare that turned her pupils into tiny specks.

She lunged at me with gnarled fingers, as if trying to pull me in.

Startled, I stumbled back, barely avoiding her grasp.

"Stop dragging your feet, let's move!"

Mandy yelled from not too far off, her tone steeped in impatience.

If this lady died on my doorstep, that'd be a nightmare to explain.

What's the rush, anyway?

My irritation flared up, "I'm not going anywhere! We need to help her first!"

Mandy had changed. She was different.

Her own grandmother had died from a stroke on the street.

During her wake, Mandy had solemnly promised to help any elder in distress, scam or not.

What happened to that promise?

"Help who?" she retorted with clear frustration.

I pointed sternly at the woman on the ground.

She paused, then burst out laughing, "Jess, are you playing hero now? Help what? It's just a balloon!"

A balloon?!

I spun around.

The old woman was gone.

Where she'd been lying, a pink balloon now slowly rose into the air.

This was surreal!

A cold draft swept up, sending shivers across my skin and raising goosebumps.

Shaking, I pulled out my phone to call the police.

Hearing my call, Mandy's eyes widened, her expression uneasy, "I'm not sticking around for this. You catch up quick, don't keep folks waiting!"

The police were quick to arrive.

Hotel staff were cooperative, promptly bringing up the security footage.

In the video, neither the old woman nor I appeared at all.

She'd been there three times, and I'd been right by her side!

Yet, the footage only showed Mandy entering and leaving.

No trace of me stepping outside, nor of any pink balloon.

How could this be?

The footage must have been tampered with!

My unease grew.

If there was nothing to hide, why mess with the surveillance?

Was the hotel in cahoots with the old woman?

Trying to lure me out to harvest my organs, to sell me off...

But, I had no tangible evidence to show the cops!

Both Mike and Mandy had been acting off all day.

Now, who could I trust?

Beads of sweat dotted my forehead, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

A female officer noticed my distress, exchanged a look with her partner, and then softly patted my shoulder, "Take it easy. Maybe you're just under a lot of stress?"

They clearly didn't believe me.

They thought I was hallucinating.

My voice cracked, barely holding back tears, "No, please believe me. There really was an old woman. She warned that my husband was going to kill me. She knew our names..."

The cops were skeptical and eventually left.

My mind was a whirl, all I wanted was to pack up and leave this bizarre hotel as fast as possible.

In the midst of packing, my phone rang unexpectedly.

It was Mike.

Probably wondering why I wasn't there yet.

After everything that had happened tonight, I had no mood for romance.

I hesitated briefly, then pressed the answer button.

"Jess!" Mike's voice came through, tinged with excitement.

"Mike, I'm just too worn out, don't feel like heading out."

I tried to stay calm, but my voice betrayed my irritation.

"It's all good. The wind's picking up anyway."

"Fancy some grilled durian? There's a vendor nearby, and the stuff looks fresh. Noticed you barely touched your dinner..."

I froze, my response slipping out before I could think, "Aren't you proposing tonight?"

"Proposing?" he repeated, then softly chuckled, "Can't get anything past you."

Guilt washed over me, "Sorry, I didn't realize you had a proposal planned for tonight..."

"Hmm?"

"Who said it was tonight? It's tomorrow! I've booked the restaurant where we first met..."

What?

"Didn't you send Mandy to get me tonight?"

"Jess, don't scare me like that!" Mike's voice wavered, and then he sighed, "I wasn't going to tell you this, but I guess you should know."

"Mandy was in a car accident last night."

"She died at the scene."