It was one of those peaceful evenings when the city seemed to slow down, everything wrapped in a soft blanket of tranquility. Adam, a 22-year-old law student with a reserved nature, wasn't exactly a social butterfly. He cherished the few close friends he had, especially Mark—a lively, ever-partying spirit.

Tonight was Mark's birthday, and Adam had reluctantly agreed to go. Despite his dislike for noisy gatherings, the possibility of seeing a certain classmate had swayed him, just a little. Mark had made sure to mention, with a teasing grin, that she would be there.

As he buttoned his shirt, a sharp knock rattled his bedroom door, breaking the silence.

"Hold on! I'm changing!" he called out, his voice edged with mild annoyance.

But then he heard his mother's voice, muffled and trembling from the other side. "Please, Adam... don't go tonight."

Something in her tone made his stomach twist. He opened the door to find her standing there—frail and pale, her face damp with the remnants of a lingering fever. She had been bedridden all day, but now her eyes held a deep worry that cut through her fatigue.

"Mom, you shouldn't be out of bed," Adam said, frowning with concern. "You need to rest."

She looked up at him, hesitation flickering in her eyes. "I know," she whispered, her voice faint and unsteady. "But... I had this awful dream..."

Noticing how unwell she appeared, Adam gently guided her to sit on the edge of his bed. She sank into the mattress, her gaze distant, as if reliving the nightmare.

"I saw you in a car... with friends," she continued, her words spilling out in a shaky stream. "It was so dark inside, and there was this light, flickering like it couldn't decide whether to stay on or off. Everything looked strange—shadows everywhere."

Adam sat beside her, his worry deepening. He'd never seen her this distressed. "Mom, it was just a dream," he said softly, trying to reassure her.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her fingers trembling. "You looked up at me, and you were smiling, but then... then you started vomiting blood," she said, her breath catching. "The light went out completely, and I was screaming your name, but you didn't answer. You just... disappeared into the dark."

Her other hand reached out to him, her grip weak but desperate. "Please, Adam... don't go tonight. I just... I have such a bad feeling."

He felt a pang of guilt, his excitement for the evening fading in the face of her fear. The thought of causing her more distress was unbearable. He covered her hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Alright, Mom," he said quietly, meeting her eyes. "I'll stay home tonight. Don't worry."

Relief washed over her features, her shoulders relaxing as she let out a sigh. "Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. The tension that had gripped her seemed to ease.

After helping her back to her room, Adam pulled out his phone to call Mark. As he explained that he wouldn't be able to make it, he could hear the irritation in his friend's voice.

"Why are you lying to me now?" Mark demanded.

Adam sighed. "I'm not lying, Mom's not feeling well. I need to stay with her tonight."

There was a brief silence before Mark spoke again, his tone sharp. “You know what, forget it. You do you man. See you around."

"I didn’t—" But the line went dead.

Adam stared at his phone. He hadn't meant to upset his friend, especially on his birthday.

With a heavy sigh, he put the phone away. Returning to the living room, he found his mother resting on the couch. "Everything okay?" she asked softly, noticing the troubled look on his face.

He forced a small smile. "Yeah, everything's fine."

They spent the evening together, the glow of the television casting a warm light as they shared quiet conversations. Laughter occasionally broke the silence as they reminisced about old memories. The anxiety that had clouded her eyes slowly faded, replaced with peaceful contentment.

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As midnight approached, Adam noticed his mother's eyelids growing heavy. "You should get some sleep, Mom," he said gently.

She nodded, stifling a yawn. "Only if you promise to get some rest too."

He managed a genuine smile this time. "I promise."

After helping her to bed, he lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as she settled under the covers. The steady rise and fall of her breathing was comforting, her face serene. Satisfied, he made his way to his own room.

Lying in bed, he couldn't help but think about his conversation with Mark. Guilt gnawed at him. "Maybe I should have tried harder to explain," he thought. But deep down, he knew he'd made the right choice. His mother needed him tonight.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the night lull him to sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Adam’s mother woke feeling refreshed, the heaviness of the previous night's worries seeming distant. Humming to herself, she began tidying up the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

As she wiped down the counter, the phone rang. She picked it up, cradling it between her shoulder and ear. "Good morning, Martha!" she greeted, smiling.

Martha's voice, usually bright and cheerful, was subdued. "Good morning. I... I hate to bring bad news, but have you heard about the accident last night?"

Her smile faltered. "Accident? No, I haven't. What happened?"

"There was a car crash involving some of the neighborhood kids," Martha said gently. "Two of them didn't make it."

A cold sensation settled in her chest. "Oh my goodness... who?"

Martha hesitated. "One of them was Mark. I'm so sorry."

The room seemed to tilt slightly, her grip on the phone tightening. "Mark?" she whispered, disbelief washing over her. "Are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so," Martha replied softly. "I thought you should know."

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "Thank you for telling me. Poor Ela... I can't imagine what she's going through."

"I was planning to stop by her house later," Martha said. "I thought maybe you'd like to come with me."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, of course.”

An uneasy feeling stirred within her, the echoes of her nightmare resurfacing. She tried to steady herself, taking a deep breath. The room seemed to spin as she clutched the phone tighter. "Mark?" she whispered, her mind reeling. Images of Mark's infectious smile flashed before her. "I can't believe it..." she murmured. A sudden urgency gripped her. "I need to check on Adam," she said suddenly. "I'll meet you in a bit."

She hung up the phone, her hands trembling. Without wasting another second, she hurried down the hall, a sense of dread creeping over her.

"Adam?" she called softly, knocking on his door. There was no answer. Pushing the door open, she peered inside. His room was dim, the curtains still drawn, casting shadows across the space. He was still in bed, the blankets pulled up around him.

She stepped inside, her footsteps quiet on the wooden floor. "Time to wake up, sweetheart," she said gently. The air felt unusually cool.

Noticing how dark the room was, she moved toward the window and pulled back the curtains opening the window slightly, allowing the fresh morning air and sunlight to stream in. The room brightened, bathed in a warm glow.

Turning back to face him, she paused. The sunlight illuminated his face, and something looked off. His skin appeared unusually pale, almost translucent, and his lips were tinged with a faint bluish hue. A knot formed in her stomach.

"Adam?" she repeated, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. She approached the bed slowly, her heart beginning to flutter uneasily.

She reached out to touch his cheek—it was cool to the touch. Her hand lingered there for a moment, disbelief washing over her. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake. "Wake up, Adam," she said softly. "It's morning."

He didn't stir. The silence in the room was profound, amplifying the distant sounds of birds chirping outside.

"Adam?" she said again, her voice wavering. She leaned in closer, observing the stillness of his chest. No rise and fall of breath met her gaze. A chill ran down her spine.

Her mind flashed back to the nightmare she had shared with him—the dark car, the flickering light, his haunting smile before he began vomiting blood. The uneasy feeling from earlier now surged into a gripping fear.

"This can't be happening," she whispered, her throat tightening. "It’s just a dream..."

With trembling fingers, she pressed them to his wrist, desperately searching for a pulse. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears. Feeling nothing, she moved her hand to his chest, hoping against hope to detect even the faintest heartbeat.

Silence.

"Please, Adam," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Please wake up."

Denial clung to her as she gently cradled his face in her hands. "You're fine," she murmured, her voice breaking.

She sank onto the bed beside him, pulling him into her arms. The warmth she sought was absent, replaced by an unyielding cold. The finality of it all began to settle, her denial giving way to an overwhelming grief.

A solitary tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. "Adam," she whispered urgently, "wake up, it's morning." Her voice grew louder, panic seeping in. "Please wake up!" She shook him gently, then more vigorously, but he remained still. her eyes searching his peaceful face for any sign of life. The weight of her nightmare intertwined with reality, blurring the lines between fear and the present moment.

She nudged him repeatedly, each call of his name more desperate than the last. The unyielding coldness of his body confirmed her deepest fear. Her legs gave way, and she sank onto the floor, a silent scream caught in her throat as reality enveloped her.—