QUESTIONS WITH NO ANSWER
A new day dawned—but not with peace.
It began with confusion and unease, as the weight of yesterday's events lingered in the air like a dark cloud. The children, too, were unsettled. Their young minds struggled to process what had happened. The fear was etched into their faces, and that haunted me.
I made my way to their room, hoping to soothe them. I tried to offer comfort—telling them it was merely a harmless accident, nothing more—but their eyes revealed a different story. Their expressions were pale and stiff, heavy with silent terror. It was clear that my words weren't enough.
I knelt beside them, forced a smile, and tried to lighten the mood.
Still, it was in vain.
Ashley, ever observant, looked straight into my eyes and asked, "Daddy… who were those people? Do you know them? Are they… connected to you somehow?"
Her question struck me like a blow to the chest.
I couldn't give her a real answer. I couldn't tell her the truth—not yet. So I constructed a half-truth. I told them it was likely someone I had fallen out with in the past. A man who was simply trying to scare me.
Jude accepted the explanation. But Ashley remained skeptical. Her eyes narrowed, reading between the lines. She didn't believe me—not fully. And that troubled me deeply.
I drew them into a warm embrace and whispered, "No matter what happens, I will always protect you both. I promise."
Just then, the doorbell rang.
I walked to the front of the house and opened the door—only to be met by a strange figure. A delivery man, if you could call him that. He wore a haunting, stylized mask—covered in symbols I couldn't decipher. He didn't say a word. In his hand was a plain box.
He handed it over without eye contact, turned, and walked away briskly.
"Wait!" I called after him. "Who sent this?"
He didn't respond. He didn't even turn his head.
Uneasy, I stepped back inside, clutching the box.
I placed it gently on the table, eyes fixed on it.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind.
Who sent this?What's inside?Why now?
The timing was too precise. The appearance too deliberate. The mask, the silence, the message from the van—all signs pointed to a connection.
But what kind of game was I being drawn into?
And more importantly… how much danger are my children really in?