Days passed, punctuated by small domestic failures like light bulbs flickering, pipes groaning, the oven door refusing to shut. Familiar irritations kept her grounded. Sometimes the wall remained silent, and Lucy almost forgot. Then the faint, irregular knocks would answer from behind the plaster.
A colleague suggested she redecorate the bedroom. “Fresh paint’ll fix the mood,” he said. But as Lucy rolled the first coat on a weekend, she found the wall absorbed color strangely, darkening unevenly, as if concealing something porous beneath. When she pressed the brush too hard, a fine crack trembled through the surface.