After her husband’s death, a grieving architect retreats to a decaying seaside hotel, where she falls for a man who died there long ago. As the house twists her grief and desire, she must confront her past or become part of its haunted legacy.

SYNOPSIS:

"All this sadness, all this grief, it doesn't need to be fed. It needs to be seen, held, let go." - Isobel Sutter

Isobel Sutter arrives at the crumbling Carolyn Resort not to escape grief, but to reorganize it. A failed architect burdened by the death of her husband Rob, a man she didn’t fight to save, she’s sunk everything into restoring this forgotten seaside hotel. The hope: rebuild something broken. The truth: rebuild her broken spirit.

"Maybe if I gave something else a second chance, it would give me one too." - Isobel

The Carolyn resists her. Doors creak open on their own. Music drifts from locked rooms. Then she meets Elijah Moss, the quiet, kind maintenance man who seems to appear just when she needs help. They share a slow, intimate rhythm, until Isobel discovers an old newspaper clipping revealing Elijah died in the hotel fire seventy years ago. He doesn’t deny it. But he doesn’t leave either.

"I don’t remember the pain. Just a moment where I realized I wasn’t going to get back out." - Elijah Moss

As their bond deepens into something intimate, the house shifts with them. It shows her visions of a future she desperately wants—Elijah and Isobel married, running the hotel together, at peace. The illusion is seductive, comforting. But then Elijah begins to change. He becomes overly affectionate. Too perfect. Off.

She starts to notice inconsistencies. Strange lapses. Then one night, he tries to force himself on her. She realizes this isn’t Elijah at all. It’s the house. A doppelgänger, crafted from her longing. When she fights back, it vanishes in a burst of ash. Worse: the real Elijah has been missing. And when she finds his toolbox and hears his voice muffled behind a wall, she realizes he’s trapped. The Carolyn is holding him back. When she tries to reach through the wall, rusted nails shoot out and pierce her palms. The house wants her too. And it’s getting desperate.

Panicked and bleeding, Isobel flees to the emergency clinic in town. But while waiting in the lobby, she sees a man rushed in on a stretcher…just like Rob that night. She watches a woman sobbing into a phone and sees a mirror of her own collapse. She realizes she’s doing it again: running when it matters.

This time, she turns around.

"I used to think that love was just holding on tighter. Even when everything hurt." - Isobel

She returns to the Carolyn, angry, and forces open the sealed service stairway Elijah warned her away from. The house floods her with psychic noise—visions of the fire, screams, smoke—and then drops her into a single, quiet moment:

Rob’s death. Through his eyes. She sees herself, refusing to answer the phone. Rob's heartbreak. The crash. The silence. And still, even in that final moment, his love for her.

The house takes the form of Rob. Gentle, apologetic, and inviting her to take her own life and join him forever. But Isobel sees through the illusion. This isn’t Rob, he would never ask her to do that. It’s the Carolyn. As a broken vision of Rob tries to lure her toward a fatal end, she refuses. Instead of giving in, she sits with it. She asks why it’s doing this. She listens. And then, she forgives: the parasite, Rob, and most of all, herself. That act of compassion severs the parasite’s hold on the house.

She finds Elijah’s body beneath the wreckage where he died trying to save others. When she touches his bones, he returns—not glowing, not restored, just real. He tells her he has no unfinished business, but finally has a reason to stay. They dance together in the now-repaired ballroom. Not to forget—but to live beside what they can’t change.

"I’m not asking you to leave this place. I’m asking you if I can stay." - Elijah

In the final scene, The Carolyn is open again. Guests check in. Isobel’s sister visits and meets the maintenance man—and her new lover—Elijah Moss, kind and quiet. She happily shakes his hand.

THE MOURNING HOUSE