NUMINOUS | Harry Styles

NINE

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The tea, the one Harry insisted she drink every night, had always worked wonders for her. From the first sip, its warmth would spread through her body, making her feel safe, relaxed, and ready for a deep, dreamless sleep.

But tonight, it was different.

She had brewed it as usual, inhaled its comforting aroma, and drank it slowly, expecting the familiar wave of calm to wash over her. Yet, as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the unease only grew.

Why isn't it working? Vera thought, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly.

The wind outside was particularly fierce that night, howling against her windows and making the branches of the large oak tree scratch the glass like nails on a chalkboard. The rhythmic tapping should've been a background noise she could ignore, but it felt louder, sharper tonight—as though someone, or something, was out there.

Her mind started to spin, replaying strange memories: the way Harry seemed to finish impossible tasks in record time, the odd plants he kept insisting she place around her home, the cryptic looks he gave when she asked him innocent questions. And now, this—the tea that suddenly wasn't working.

Vera tossed and turned, trying to shake the feeling creeping up her spine. She flipped onto her side, pulling the covers higher around her neck, trying to block out the noise. But the moment her eyes shut, she swore she heard footsteps outside her window, the crunch of leaves underfoot. Her heart jumped, and her eyes snapped open.

No, no, it's just the wind. It's just the wind. She repeated the thought like a mantra, willing herself to believe it.

But the feeling in her chest—the dread, the unease—kept building, stronger than ever before. She felt...watched.

Vera forced herself to peek out from under the blankets and glance toward the window, her heart racing. The shadows outside seemed to move, shifting and bending in ways that didn't make sense. And there—just for a split second—she saw it again. A faint glow, like the outline of eyes, watching her from the darkness.

Her breath caught in her throat. Was that real? Am I imagining things again?

Quickly, she shut her eyes and rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow. Her body trembled with a fear she couldn't fully explain. It wasn't just the wind or the creaking of the old house. It was something else. Something wrong.

The tea should have calmed her by now. But instead, her mind felt more awake, more alert, as if her body was trying to warn her of danger. The unease swirled inside her, growing heavier with each passing minute. Her room, usually a sanctuary, felt foreign and unsettling. She could feel the shift in the air, thick with something she couldn't name.

Harry... She thought of him then, of his insistence on her drinking the tea, of the way his visits had become more frequent as if he was watching over her in his own strange way. But tonight, without him coming into the shop, without the tea working, it felt like the invisible barrier that kept her safe had disappeared.

Vera's breath came in shallow gasps. She sat up, gripping the edge of her blanket, her eyes darting around the room. She half-wanted to call Harry, but what would she even say? Hey, your tea that I now depend on to sleep isn't working tonight, and I'm pretty sure something's lurking outside my window? He'd probably just tell her she was overreacting again, or worse, give her one of those cryptic stares before hanging up.