Fernandez, 23, navigated the bustling subway station, phone pressed to her ear, promising her dad she'd be home in thirty minutes. The train screeched to a halt, doors hissing open, and a tide of humanity surged in and out. She squeezed aboard, clutching a handle, her mind already on the anniversary party and her brother's long-awaited return.

Suddenly, a familiar face cut through the crowd – Aries, her cousin, whom she hadn't seen in years. A wave of surprise washed over her, quickly followed by the easy rhythm of catching up. He spoke of Estella, his wife, and a new happiness, a new beginning.

Their conversation flowed until her stop approached. She said her goodbyes, but Aries, with an insistent charm, persuaded her to come to his place first, to see Estella. Despite her reservations, a strange curiosity, and the genuine warmth in his eyes, swayed her. She agreed.

Standing before Aries's door, a strange unease settled over her. The bell, she noted, was absent. 'Estella's probably sleeping,' he murmured, unlocking the door. Inside, an unsettling quiet pervaded the house. He disappeared, promising to call Estella, leaving Fernandez alone in the living room. The minutes stretched, turning into a tense, unsettling silence.