Chapter – 1 : “Just Another Normal Morning”

The bell above the clinic door gave a tired cling as Lina Hayes pushed it open with her shoulder, juggling a paper cup of coffee, her bag, and a folder that was already slipping out of her grip.

“Good morning to you too,” she muttered at the door as it creaked louder than necessary, like it had a personal grudge.

The smell hit her first—antiseptic, fur, and something faintly resembling regret.

“Lina!”

She didn’t even have time to look up before a blur of motion collided with her legs.

A small golden retriever—too energetic for eight in the morning—latched onto her like she’d personally invented joy.

“Hey—hey! Buddy—no, we’re not doing this today—” Lina tried to keep her coffee upright while gently prying the dog off her.

The owner, a flustered man in wrinkled office clothes, rushed over.

“I am so sorry, he just—he loves people.”

“He has excellent taste,” Lina said dryly, finally freeing her sleeve from the dog’s enthusiastic affection.

The dog sat. Then immediately stood. Then spun in a circle. Then sat again, like he was buffering.

Lina crouched down, eye level now, brushing her fingers lightly over his head.

“Okay, what’s the emergency?” she asked, glancing up at the owner.

“He won’t stop barking at my closet.”

Lina blinked once. “Your closet.”

“Yes. Every night. Same time. Two a.m. Exactly. He just stands there and—barks. For like… ten minutes.”

The dog wagged his tail proudly, like this was his greatest achievement “Right,” Lina said slowly. “And… anything in the closet? New clothes, old skeletons, cursed artifacts?”

The man didn’t laugh.

“…It’s just clothes.”

“Of course it is,” Lina murmured, standing up. “Bring him in. Let’s take a look.”

The clinic hummed with low, constant noise—phones ringing, metal clinking, the occasional bark echoing down the hallway like an argument nobody wanted to get involved in.

Lina slipped into the exam room, the dog trotting in beside her like he owned the place.

“Up,” she said, patting the table.

The dog leaped up immediately. Too immediately.

“Overachiever,” she muttered, setting her coffee down.

She ran her hands gently along his sides, checking for tension, injury—anything physical.

Nothing.

“Eating okay?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Sleeping?”

“Yes—well, except for the barking.”

“Of course,” Lina said, nodding like this was perfectly normal and not at all the beginning of a horror movie.

The dog stared at her.

Not unusual.

Animals stared all the time.

But this one didn’t blink.

“…You good?” Lina asked under her breath, tilting her head slightly.

The dog’s tail slowed.

For a second—just a second—it felt like he was waiting.

For what, she had no idea.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Maya:

Tell me you’ve had at least one weird case today. I need content. My audience is starving.

Lina huffed a quiet laugh.

Lina:

Dog vs closet. Possibly haunted wardrobe. Will update.

Three dots appeared instantly.

Maya:

YES. Ask the dog if it’s a ghost. Or a secret second family. Or both.

Lina shook her head, typing back:

Lina:

I’m not interrogating a dog.

She hit send, then paused, glancing back at the golden retriever.

He was still staring at her.

Unblinking.

Tail completely still now.

“…Okay, that’s new,” she murmured.

“Is something wrong?” the owner asked, shifting nervously.

Lina straightened immediately, slipping back into professional mode.

“No, no—he’s healthy. Physically, at least.”

She picked up her stethoscope, placing it gently against the dog’s chest.

Steady heartbeat.

Normal breathing.

Everything normal.

Too normal.

The dog’s eyes followed her every movement with unsettling precision.

“Sometimes,” Lina began, half-thinking out loud, “behavior like this can be triggered by environmental changes. New sounds, smells, routines…”

The dog’s ears twitched.

Lina paused.

“…Or,” she added slowly, “something specific in that location.”

The dog’s tail gave a single, sharp wag.

Once.

Then stopped again.

Lina frowned slightly.

“Did you… recently move anything in the closet?” she asked.

The man hesitated. “I mean… I did bring home an old suitcase from my parents’ house.”

“Old how?”

“Like… really old.”

Lina nodded slowly, glancing back at the dog.

“Okay. That might be worth looking into.”

The dog’s gaze locked onto hers again.

Intense.

Focused.

Like he was trying to—

Her grip tightened slightly around the edge of the table.

“…Okay,” she said again, quieter this time.

The dog didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t look away.

And for the briefest moment—

It felt like the room had gone just a little too quiet.

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