Patience descended the stairs slowly, hand in hands with Chris every step an effort to push away the echo of the whisper that had clung to her mind like a stubborn mist. The party hall—formerly their sitting room—was now filled with giggling children, music, balloons, and vibrant chatter. Laughter bounced off the walls, but to Patience, it all felt distant… like watching a celebration from behind glass.
"There she is!" the MC boomed as he spotted her. "Our beautiful big sister of the celebrants!"
Everyone cheered and clapped. Patience forced a bright smile and waved as she stepped onto the edge of the open space cleared for games.
Her mum stood near the twins, looking proudly at her. Patience could feel Chris's eyes on her too—from the corner of the room, where he leaned casually against a pillar, arms crossed, watching her like he could see past the façade.
"Now, let's begin the 'Wrap Me Up' game!" the MC announced. "One adult will be wrapped up in tissue paper by two kids—fastest team wins!"
Children screamed with joy and rushed forward.
"Patience, come help your siblings!" someone yelled.
"Big sister duty," she muttered under her breath, stepping up beside the twins.
Patrick and Peace grinned as they started wrapping her in rolls of tissue, stumbling and giggling through the process.
As the MC counted down the final seconds, Chris suddenly moved closer. "You wear toilet paper well," he said teasingly, giving her a small wink.
She snorted, barely able to reply under the layers. "Thanks. It's designer."
The crowd clapped as the game ended and someone took a photo of her mummified self, which she immediately tried to delete. Laughter roared across the room again.
Later, while drinks and party packs were being shared, Patience slipped away toward the back porch for a breath of fresh air. Her smile had worn thin. She stared out into the open sky, hands gripping the rail.
A few seconds passed before Chris quietly joined her. He didn't speak at first—just stood beside her, the way he always did when she didn't want to talk but didn't want to be alone either.
"I know that look," he finally said.
"What look?"
"The one where your mind is not at the party but trapped in a question you're afraid to ask."
Patience exhaled slowly. "I heard them again, Chris. The voices. Upstairs. The same whisper. Same tone."
He turned to face her. "Did you make out what they were saying?"
She hesitated. "Just part of it... something like, 'She doesn't even know... she'll find out soon enough.'"
Chris's jaw tensed. "Are you sure they weren't talking about someone else?"
Patience shook her head. "No. And the way they stopped talking when I approached—it felt like they were hiding something. About me."
Chris stepped closer, gently placing his hand over hers on the rail. "Then we'll find out. Together. Whatever truth they're hiding, you won't face it alone."
For a moment, the noise of the party faded completely. All Patience could hear was the pounding of her heart.
Their eyes met. The space between them grew thinner.
But before anything more could happen, her mum's voice cut through the air.
"Patience! Peace is crying over the missing gift bag! Please come!"
She pulled away, flustered. "I'll be right back."
As she disappeared into the house, Chris stared after her, feeling the weight of something he couldn't quite name. This was no longer just about school stress or party jitters. Something bigger was unravelling—and it had Patience's name written all over it