We pulled up to the house just as the last of the daylight faded, the windows glowing with a familiar, warm light. My brother bolted out of the car the moment it stopped, already hollering for Dad, probably eager to flaunt his collection of snacks and trinkets from town. Mom, for her part, looked frazzled but satisfied, turning back to me only to say, "Help with the bags, will you?"

Of course. I grabbed the remaining bags from the trunk, letting the car door thud shut behind me, already regretting the weight of this day. The pendant felt heavy against my chest, and the strange encounter kept replaying in my mind—especially that woman's cold, piercing stare, like she could see right through me.

Stepping inside, I shut the door, sealing off the chill outside, and inhaled deeply. The familiar scent of home wrapped around me: the faint lavender of the air freshener, the lingering aroma of whatever Mom had baked earlier, and the subtle undercurrent of... normalcy. The quiet, dull hum of it. Like everything was as it should be. Yet, here I was, feeling more out of place than ever.

My brother had already rushed off to the living room, where he was showing Dad some trivial thing he'd picked up. Meanwhile, Mom brushed past me, taking the bags and starting to sort through them, not even sparing a glance in my direction. I hovered awkwardly, feeling that sharp, familiar sting of being... sidelined. Again.

I cleared my throat, mostly out of frustration. "So, is everyone just done pretending I exist?"

Mom didn't look up, just muttered, "I asked you to help with the bags, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I did that. You're welcome," I said dryly, folding my arms. "But thanks for the heartfelt 'how was your day, Alexia?'"

She looked up, eyebrow raised. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," I replied with a shrug, trying to keep my tone casual. "Just nice to be acknowledged once in a while, you know?"

My dad, who had been half-listening, chuckled a bit too loudly, his attention already drifting back to my brother. "Oh, Alexia, always so dramatic. It was just a little family outing. No need to get all moody."

Ah, yes. Of course, I was the moody one. That was my role in this family, wasn't it? The overly dramatic, sassy daughter who just couldn't seem to go with the flow.

"Right, because it's always my fault," I muttered, louder than intended. My voice had an edge to it now, one I couldn't quite mask.

Before I could stop myself, the words spilled out. "You know, maybe if you guys actually paid attention to me for once, I wouldn't have to 'act out' or whatever you think I'm doing."

Mom shot me a withering look. "Alexia, stop this nonsense. We went out as a family today. Isn't that enough?"

I bit back a frustrated sigh, forcing myself to stay calm. "Mom, we went out today because you and Jason wanted to. You guys didn't even notice when I was nearly harassed by some random woman at a stall."

That actually got her attention. Her eyes flicked up sharply, concern flashing briefly. But just as quickly, she seemed to dismiss it, brushing off my words with a shake of her head.

"Oh, Alexia, you're overreacting. It was just someone being friendly. You know how market vendors are."

Friendly? That woman's gaze had been anything but friendly. But there was no point arguing. It was like talking to a wall. Or a mannequin, I thought dryly. They were all so wrapped up in their version of reality that mine might as well have been a dream.

Just as I was about to drop it, a soft voice spoke up from the hallway. "I'd like to hear about it, Alexia."

Grandma. She stood in the doorway, looking at me with that soft, knowing gaze that could see right through me. She always had a way of stepping in at just the right time.

I smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Grandma. It was... weird, honestly. This woman at the market seemed way too interested in my necklace. Kept saying strange things like it 'carried power' and that I should keep it safe."

My mom let out a sigh, already dismissing the topic. "See? Just some local folklore nonsense. Honestly, Alexia, I don't know why you let these things get to you."

But Grandma tilted her head, her gaze sharp, thoughtful. "And how did that make you feel?"

A simple question, but it held layers. I hesitated, unsure how to express it. "I don't know. It felt... personal, like she knew something about the necklace that I didn't. And the way she looked at me—it just felt wrong. Like she was watching me the whole time we were there."

Grandma nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. She crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Well, you're right to trust your instincts, dear. Sometimes, there's more truth in what we feel than what we see."

My mom let out a dismissive scoff. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Mother. You're encouraging this nonsense?"

"Encouraging?" Grandma turned her gaze to Mom, cool and calm. "Perhaps I'm simply listening. Something I think we could all benefit from."

Mom's mouth tightened, but she didn't argue. I could tell she didn't like Grandma taking my side, especially when it challenged her own dismissive attitude. A small, satisfied smile crept onto my face as I glanced at Mom, who was now suddenly busy with a grocery bag, trying to pretend the conversation wasn't happening.

"Thank you, Grandma," I murmured, genuinely grateful. It was the first time all day someone had actually listened to me, rather than brushing me off or dismissing my concerns.

But even as the tension in the room ebbed slightly, the weight of the pendant on my chest remained. I fingered it absently, the memory of that woman's voice echoing in my head, still chilling, still unsettling.

Keep it safe.

But safe from what? Or... whom?

I sat on my bed that night, staring at the necklace. It still felt warm against my skin, humming almost, as if it was trying to speak in some quiet way I didn't fully understand. My mind kept going back to that encounter, the woman's look, her intensity, and her cryptic words. It didn't make sense, but something about it was sticking with me like a stubborn splinter.

Just as I was lost in thought, there was a soft knock on my door, and Grandma peeked in. "Hey, sweetheart. You alright?"

"Yeah..." I trailed off, uncertain. She took it as an invitation and came to sit beside me.

"I thought I'd check on you," she said gently, her eyes warm and wise. "You seemed a little shaken when we got back. Do you want to talk about it?"

I let out a long sigh, absentmindedly fiddling with the pendant. "It's... I don't know, Grandma. That woman at the market was just so strange. She kept saying things that didn't make sense, about how this necklace was something important. And her eyes... she looked at me like I was—" I broke off, feeling a little silly. "Like I was some kind of thief.... you should have seen her. That woman wanted it soo badly. I .... it is a present you game me... I couldn't and I won't ever give it away."

Grandma smiled, amused but in that gentle, reassuring way. "The markets do tend to attract some eccentric characters, hon. You know how people can get when they see something they want. But this necklace? It's yours now. Doesn't matter what she said or what she thought."

"Yeah, maybe," I mumbled, unconvinced. "But it just felt... real. Like she knew something I didn't. And what if she tries to come after me or something? Or if someone else does?"

Grandma took my hand, her gaze steady and warm. "Listen, Alexia. If you're ever in doubt, remember that you're not alone. Not with me, and certainly not with this family. And as for the necklace, it's yours to keep close, if it makes you feel better. But don't let it keep you up at night."

She paused, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "Sometimes people see what they want to see, even in simple things. It doesn't mean you're some... mystical bearer of ancient secrets." She laughed softly at her own words. "But if you feel it's special to you, then keep it as a reminder that you're not alone. That's what really matters."

I nodded, her calmness washing over me, dissolving the tension in my shoulders. Maybe I was just reading too much into things. Grandma was right; the woman was probably just one of those people who think everything has some hidden meaning. But somehow, it felt more meaningful to me now, hearing her tell me to keep it close as a reminder.

"Thanks, Grandma," I murmured, resting my head against her shoulder.

"Anytime, sweetheart." She gave my hair a gentle pat and stayed for a moment before getting up to leave.

As she closed the door behind her, I clutched the pendant, feeling the warmth of her words mix with the necklace's quiet hum.