At 3:42 a.m., Elena wakes to stillness that feels too alive. The room hasn't changed-but something has shifted. A breath in the dark. A hum with no source. A silence that watches.
As her world unravels through flickering lights, vanished memories, and the impossible pull of absence, Elena must confront not what is haunting her-but what has been quietly waiting to be remembered.
This is not horror in the usual sense.
This is the moment before.
The breath you didn't know you were holding.
The silence between.
A psychological descent into atmosphere, memory, and unspoken trauma-told in fragments, pulses, and stillness.