I am Vy.
It was that night, exactly midnight, while I was arranging the clothes in our walk-in closet here in Quezon City, when I saw something that made my head heat up until I went numb.
On the clothesline, in the middle of the freshly washed laundry, hung the bra of our maid—Hani.
And inside it, wrapped like a gift…
…was my husband Tomas’s brief.
The same brief I’d been searching for for days.
It felt like an electric shock shot straight up to my head.
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I walked up to Hani and slapped her hard.
“You shameless girl! You’re sleeping with my husband?!”
She collapsed onto the cold floor, her lips trembling, tears welling in her eyes.
“No… no, Ma’am Vy… please, please listen to me…”
But I didn’t want to hear a single word.
Blinded by anger, I threw her things out into the yard and screamed:
“GET OUT! RIGHT NOW!”
Outside, the cold wind sliced against the skin. The night howled like it was crying.
She stood by the gate, shivering and sobbing, while I shut the door, still burning with rage.
Ten minutes later, headlights flooded the yard.
My husband—Tomas—came home earlier than expected.
He saw the open gate, her scattered belongings, and me—furious, face red, hands shaking.
“Vy… what did you do to Hani? Why is she outside in the cold?”
I threw the bra and brief at his face.
“You still don’t get it? There! Evidence of your stupidity!”
Tomas stared at the two pieces of clothing…
And suddenly, his face drained of color.
Not the look of a guilty man.
But the look of a man who was… afraid.
He stepped back, breath unsteady.
“Vy… listen to me first. This isn’t about Hani.”
I scoffed, dripping with sarcasm.
“It’s not? Your brief is wrapped inside her bra and you’re telling me it isn’t? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
I glared at Tomas, waiting for him to defend himself. But he didn’t. He stood frozen—pale—like something was haunting the air behind him.
“It’s not about Hani…” he repeated, voice barely audible.
“Tomas, don’t play with me. I saw the evidence!” I snapped.
But he wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the bra and brief on the floor as if they were bombs about to explode.
“Vy… please… just listen before you decide anything,” he whispered.
“Explain. Now.”
Tomas turned to the gate. He saw Hani still trembling in the cold, clutching her small bag. He walked closer and spoke softly:
“Hani… come inside first.”
“NO!” I screamed. “She’s not stepping into my house!”
Hani stopped, crying harder.
“Ma’am Vy… I really didn’t—”
“SHUT UP!”
But Tomas looked at her with that strange fear again.
“Hani… tell her. It’s time. Before it’s too late.”
My body froze.
“What needs to be told? Tomas, what is this?”
Hani shook her head, trembling.
“Sir… I can’t… I’m scared… what if—”
“Say it!” Tomas barked, his voice cracking.
Hani’s knees finally gave out. She fell to the cement, sobbing like a child.
“Ma’am… I didn’t want this… I swear, I didn’t…”
“What didn’t you want?!” I snapped.
She lifted her tear-filled eyes to me.
“Ma’am… your husband’s brief… it didn’t come from your room. I didn’t take it. Someone… someone put it inside my clothes…”
“WHO PUT IT?!”
Hani froze.
She couldn’t look at me.
She couldn’t look at Tomas.
Her lips parted slowly.
“Ma’am… someone is entering the house even when everything is locked.”
A chill shot down my spine.
“What? Hani, what nonsense—”
But Tomas answered, voice cracking:
“Vy… I’ve been wanting to tell you. Something’s happening in this house. Something not normal.”
“What do you mean—not normal?!”
Tomas inhaled deeply.
“Hani… tell her everything.”
Still trembling, Hani spoke:
“Ma’am… someone goes into your bedroom when you’re not home. Even when it’s padlocked. Even with the deadbolt.”
My neck turned cold.
“That’s not true—”
“It’s true, Vy,” Tomas said. “And I have the CCTV footage.”
My world stopped.
“CCTV? What—?”
Tomas walked to the study. I followed, still angry, but fear was already swallowing it. He opened the computer and showed the folders:
CAMERA_BEDROOM
CAMERA_CLOSET
CAMERA_HALLWAY
“Tomas… when did you install cameras?!”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw real fear in his eyes—fear I had never seen before.
“Because… I didn’t know how to tell you that… your things were moving. That someone was walking around at night. And I didn’t know who.”
A block of ice formed inside my chest.
He opened the video.
On the screen—night. Dark. Only the sound of dogs barking outside.
Then…
The closet door opened.
By itself.
“This isn’t real…” I whispered.
On the video, a shadow appeared. Small. Thin. A silhouette of a person.
Not clear.
It walked to a drawer.
Opened it.
Took…
one of Tomas’s briefs.
Then—
A hand.
A woman’s hand.
Thin. With long nails.
The hand stuffed the brief inside the hanging bra.
And before leaving… the shadow turned toward the camera.
The face wasn’t clear.
But the voice—
Faint. Raspy.
“That’s his… not hers…”
I stepped back.
“Who was that?!” I shouted.
Tomas and Hani remained silent.
Then slowly, Hani spoke:
“Ma’am… I’ve been seeing that for a long time. I thought she was a ghost. But once… I saw her more clearly…”
“What did you see?”
She swallowed hard.
“A woman. I think… you know her.”
My jaw tightened.
“You think I know her? Hani, don’t play with me.”
She shook her head.
“I’m not joking, Ma’am. Her hair… long. A bit wavy. And she always wore this white… nightgown.”
I looked at Tomas.
“We don’t know anyone like that.”
But Tomas’s face froze.
“We do,” he whispered.
“Who?!”
He took a deep breath, like there was a stone in his throat.
“Vy… remember when we bought this house? The previous owner told me something.”
“T-told you what?”
“That someone lived here before us. A woman. She died.”
Cold prickled across my skin.
“But Tomas… why would she take your briefs? Why bras? Why does she look… jealous?”
He looked at me—weak, almost pleading.
“Because… according to the old records… before she died…”
“What?”
“Her husband’s name… was also TOMAS.”
I felt like ice water was poured over me.
“No. No. That’s not possible. You’re telling me the woman haunting this place was also your wife?!”
Tomas shook his head quickly.
“No! I don’t know her! Same last name, same husband’s name—pure coincidence! I swear!”
But I wasn’t listening anymore.
My chest thundered.
“This isn’t coincidence. Tomas… someone else is still living here.”
Hani was crying.
“Ma’am… I never wanted to get involved in your problems. But there’s… there’s something else I haven’t told you.”
“What NOW?!”
She trembled.
“Ma’am… she doesn’t just take his briefs.”
“What do you mean?”
Hani inhaled shakily.
“She hides… your photos.”
My eyes widened.
“What photos?”
“Your photos in your phone… your Messenger… even pictures of you in the car, at the mall, at work… even your childhood photos. She keeps them all in a box under the closet floorboards.”
“How do you know that?!”
“Ma’am… I saw her once. Sitting on the floor. All your pictures spread around her. And she kept repeating…”
“What was she saying?”
Hani’s voice cracked.
“‘She doesn’t deserve Tomas. It should be me. It should’ve been me.’”
My heart seized.
“That’s not true.”
But Tomas—Tomas wasn’t looking at me. His head was bowed, like he was hiding something.
“Tomas…” my voice trembled. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
He didn’t answer.
“TOMAS!”
When he finally raised his head…
He was crying.
“Vy… I don’t know how to say this. But there were nights… when something would lie down beside me.”
My knees nearly buckled.
“That was ME!” I screamed.
He shook his head.
“No. It wasn’t you. Because when I looked beside me… there was no one. But I could feel… a hand on my chest… hair brushing my face… someone breathing against my neck.”
I screamed in horror.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”
“Because I didn’t want to scare you! I thought I was hallucinating!”
But it wasn’t just that.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
I answered with shaking hands.
“H-hello…?”
A woman’s voice on the other end.
Soft.
Raspy.
Familiar.
“You don’t deserve him…”
My phone slipped from my hand.
“TOMAS. HANI. SOMEONE CALLED.”
“What did she say?”
I pointed at the phone.
“She said… I don’t deserve Tomas.”
Silence.
The whole house went dead silent.
Until—
Tok. tok. tok.
The closet door knocked.
Slow.
Long nails tapping the wood.
Tok… tok… tok…
“This can’t be happening…” Tomas whispered.
I clutched my chest, barely breathing.
Tok…
Tok…
Tok…
“Ma’am…” Hani whispered. “That’s not—”
BAM
BAM
BAM
The door suddenly pounded violently—
As if something wanted to BREAK IT DOWN.
I screamed. “TOMAS, WE NEED TO LEAVE!”
“Wait—”
But before he could stand—
THE CLOSET DOOR SWUNG OPEN.
Slowly.
A cold wind spilled out from inside.
And from the darkness…
a woman emerged.
Her hair was long.
Her dress was pure white.
And in her hand…
was my photo.
Torn.
She moved slowly, like she was walking through water.
“Tomas…” she whispered.
Goosebumps crawled up my spine.
“T-Tomas…” I stammered. “Who is she?!”
But Tomas didn’t answer.
Hani didn’t move either—she was on her knees, trembling, crying.
The woman approached Tomas.
My heartbeat was out of control.
She cupped Tomas’s face.
His shoulders shook.
“Why did you choose her?” the woman whispered.
Tomas shook his head, terrified.
“I don’t know you…”
The woman smiled—cold, bitter.
“But I know you. And I didn’t agree. Our story isn’t over.”
Then she turned to me.
“And you… you took what isn’t yours.”
I tried to run, but it felt like my feet were glued to the floor.
She raised her hand.
Blood.
I screamed.
“TOMAS, HELP ME!”
But the woman looked at me and smiled.
“It’s over.”
She was about to bring her hand down on me—
When suddenly…
BAM!
A loud noise erupted from behind.
It was Hani.
She struck the woman with a big 1.5L bottle of soft drink.
“GET OUT! DON’T HURT THEM!”
The woman screamed—a sound like a broken radio.
And then—everything changed.
Tomas shouted:
“VY! BEHIND YOU!”
I turned—
THE WOMAN IN WHITE WAS GONE.
Vanished.
Like smoke.
But we heard a voice… from the floor.
Under the closet.
A box.
Thumping.
“Vy…” Tomas said, trembling. “The box… we need to open it.”
“I don’t want to—”
“If we don’t open it, this won’t end.”
We looked at each other.
I took the box.
Opened it.
And the contents—
Ripped a scream out of my throat.
Not a ghost.
Not a spirit.
Not a shadow.
But…
A REAL LIVING WOMAN.
Topless.
Skinny.
Filthy.
Bound inside the box.
She screamed:
“Don’t take Tomas from me! He’s mine! He’s mine!”
I stumbled back in terror.
“Tomas… WHO IS SHE?!”
But Tomas…
couldn’t speak.
Until the truth finally broke him.
Crying, Tomas whispered:
“Vy… she’s my ex-girlfriend. I thought… she was dead.”
“YOU THOUGHT?!” I shouted.
“S-she faked her death… years ago. And… she’s been following me everywhere I move…”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Tomas… you mean… ever since we moved here—?”
“Yes. She’s been living under our closet… inside the house… this whole time.”
That was the moment I broke down.
Not because of jealousy.
Not because of fear.
But because…
We had been living inside the same house…
with my husband’s deranged ex…
who was willing to kill for him.
I froze in the middle of the living room, still holding the damp cloth I used earlier to wipe Hân’s tears before letting her back inside the house. We still hadn’t recovered from the shock of what Thắng said when suddenly he collapsed on the floor—as if some heavy truth finally crushed him.
“Vy… you don’t understand… those clothes… they’re not mine.”
I could barely breathe.
“What?”
I stepped closer, my voice shaking.
“Not yours? Then whose boxers are those?! And why were they inside Hân’s bra?!”
He shook his head hard, desperate.
“They’re not mine… not hers either… Vy, please, just listen first.”
But before he could explain, his phone vibrated in his pocket. On the screen:
“Bro, where are you? We have a problem.” – Tin
I frowned. Tin? Thắng’s younger brother… but why now? And why call at midnight?
Thắng snatched the phone so I couldn’t read the next messages, but what I had seen was enough to make my heart race.
“Thắng… what is actually happening?!”
But instead of answering, he stood abruptly and grabbed his coat.
“I need to go to Tin. I can’t explain here. You’re both in danger.”
“DANGER?!”
I shouted as he headed for the door.
“Thắng, what does your brother have to do with those underwear?!”
He stopped at the doorway, not turning around, but I could hear the tremor in his voice:
“Vy… someone has been entering this house. You can’t see them… but we can.”
When the door slammed shut, Hân and I were left staring at each other, stunned.
“Ate Vy…”
Hân whispered.
“I’m not lying. I really didn’t touch your clothes. But… some nights… I hear the guest room door opening.”
A cold hand crawled up my neck.
“What time?”
“Around… two in the morning.”
And then I remembered—how many nights I had woken up at 2 AM because someone seemed to be twisting our doorknob.
I ignored it.
Until now.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the garage keys and followed Thắng.
When I reached the garage, his car was just pulling out. But another motorcycle was parked at the side—just arrived—and a woman was leaning against it, trembling, crying.
It was Tin.
“Tin?!”
I rushed toward him.
“What are you doing here? Why are you crying?”
But instead of answering, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me so tightly I could hardly breathe.
“Ate Vy… I’m sorry… I can’t keep it a secret anymore.”
He stepped back, wiped his tears, and pulled a small pouch from his pocket.
When he opened it, my eyes widened.
Inside were the three missing pairs of Thắng’s boxers… and two of Hân’s bras.
“T–Tin… why do you have those?”
He broke down crying.
“Ate… I’m not a thief. Kuya isn’t either. But you need to know something… before he reaches my condo.”
He stopped talking, glanced around, then whispered:
“Ate… your clothes weren’t lost. SOMEONE ELSE TOOK THEM.”
“Who?!”
His voice shook.
“The person… who shouldn’t be living here.”
Before I could ask more, the laundry room door inside the house slowly creaked open. Deliberately. Too slowly.
KRRRRRK.
Hân ran out, pale as a sheet.
“Ate Vy! Something’s moving behind the washing machine!”
The three of us froze.
“Tin…”
I whispered.
“What do you mean ‘someone who shouldn’t be living here’?”
He cried harder.
“Ate… we have a cousin who ran away from the province. He’s an addict. He’s broken into other people’s homes before. Last we heard… he was in Manila.”
“AND?!”
“Ate… I saw the CCTV of my condo yesterday.”
He took a deep breath and showed his phone.
And there it was.
A skinny man, bloody hands, crawling toward the door of Tin’s condo… wearing THẮNG’S T-SHIRT.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
After that, the man sent a message to Tin:
“Tin, I found a better house. Bigger. More clothes. I’ll sleep there tonight. Don’t worry.”
And the address he sent…
was our house.
We hadn’t even reacted yet when my phone rang—Thắng calling. My hands shook.
And the first thing he said was something I’ll never forget:
“Vy… RUN OUT OF THE HOUSE. NOW.”
“Why?!”
His voice was ragged, like he’d been fighting.
“That’s not my cousin in the video.”
My world stopped.
“What do you mean?”
A brief silence.
“Vy… that’s not a human.”
“What?!”
He spoke slowly:
“…That’s the same man who entered our home last year. The one who tried our bedroom door.”
My knees almost buckled.
“I thought he left. But… Vy… he came back because he left something here last time.”
“LEFT WHAT?!”
Thắng swallowed hard.
“Vy… check under our bed.”
I couldn’t stop myself.
“THẮNG, WHAT’S UNDER THE BED?!”
His answer stabbed into my stomach like a knife:
“Vy… that’s where all the clothes are.”
“… AND SOMEONE’S BEEN TAKING THEM WHILE WE SLEEP.”
I didn’t know how I was even standing. My hands trembled as I slowly turned toward the hallway. Hân clung to my arm, and Tin pressed himself close beside me, pale and breathless.
On the line, I heard Thắng’s broken, desperate voice:
“Vy… please. Don’t go alone. Wait for me—”
But it was too late.
A loud thud echoed from our bedroom upstairs.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Like something crawling.
Or walking.
Or both.
I stood at the foot of the stairs.
“Tin…” I whispered,
“…are you sure that was your cousin in the video?”
He shook his head, tears drying on his face.
“I—I don’t recognize him anymore… he looks…”
He swallowed.
“…drugged… not human.”
And then I heard it.
A faint voice.
From our bedroom.
“…Vy…”
Not Thắng’s voice.
Not Hân’s.
Not the woman’s.
A man’s voice—low, raspy, like there was a wound in his throat.
“Vy… that’s mine…”
Thắng screamed through the phone:
“DON’T GO UP! VY! DON’T—”
But something was pulling me toward the door of my own bedroom.
Hân grabbed my arm.
“Ate… don’t…”
But I had to end this.
I had to know.
I slowly pushed the door open.
And there he was.
A skinny, filthy man with bloody fingernails—kneeling under the bed like an animal. In front of him…
…were all the missing underwear from the past weeks.
He held one of Thắng’s boxers.
And when he saw me, he smiled—a torn, deranged smile, one cheek barely moving.
“Finally…”
he whispered.
“I finally see you, Vy.”
Before he could lunge at me, something crashed behind us.
Thắng burst in, panting, gripping a heavy metal bar from the garage.
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
The man charged. Fast. Violent.
Not human.
They fought in the room—lamps smashing, furniture crashing, our screams filling the hallway—until one brutal strike to the man’s head brought him down.
He collapsed—but was still breathing, whimpering like an animal.
Thắng shouted:
“I ALREADY CALLED THE POLICE! EVERYONE OUT, NOW!”
We rushed Hân and Tin to the living room. I was the last to leave the room. My final glance at the man… his face barely recognizable.
He looked at me, smiling crookedly:
“I won’t hurt you…”
he whispered.
“…I just sleep here.”
When the police arrived, they restrained him immediately. He thrashed, screamed nonsense, but rage twisted in his eyes.
An officer approached us.
“Do you know he’s broken into your house before?”
I shook my head.
Thắng answered:
“It happened a year ago… he came in at dawn. I thought he was gone for good.”
He took a long, shaky breath.
“But he came back… and he’s been hiding here the whole time.”
The next day, police searched the entire house.
Behind the washing machine?
Candy wrappers, an old phone battery, and a small pillow.
Under the stairs?
A hole big enough for a thin man.
In the attic?
An old jacket that wasn’t ours.
He had been living inside our home for over two weeks.
And stealing our clothes while we slept.
After everything, the house was quiet again.
Hân returned to work.
Tin stayed with us while dealing with trauma.
Me?
Every night, I check under the bed before sleeping. Not because I think someone is still there…
…but because now I understand how easily a stranger can slip into our lives.
Thắng walked over and hugged me tightly.
“It’s over, Vy.”
I breathed deeply.
“Yes… it’s over.”
And for the first time in many nights, I slept soundly—
no rustling,
no doorknobs turning,
no eyes watching from the dark.
At last…
the nightmare was over.