He called him "Dad," yet he kept staring at me, as if he was silently warning his father to stay away from me. It felt like there was a secret lodged between them, something Kiril would do anything to keep buried.
He rushed toward us. Each step Kiril took worked like fluorescent dye, revealing the restlessness surrounding my boss. He wrapped his hand around my boss's neck.
"Would you mind giving us some space? It seems we've reached the 'private matters' portion of the day," Kiril said in a firm voice.
"Aiden, I'll be taking my leave. I will talk to you later," my boss said in a trembling voice, as if he was forced to bid this farewell. I noticed an expression of relief and satisfaction on Kiril's face.
"The car's waiting. Let's go, Dad," Kiril said.
Hearing this, my boss extended his hand for a handshake. While shaking hands, he passed a piece of paper to me. Then he rushed towards the car where Kiril was waiting for him.
After their departure, I unfolded that piece of paper. On that piece of paper, an address was written—maybe of a restaurant or a hotel. Beneath it, a single instruction was written: to arrive at the location at 7 o'clock tomorrow, and to come alone.
It was quite strange. He had never acted like this before. A faint uneasiness settled in my chest. I kept staring at the address, as if the paper itself might explain what he couldn't.
Why would he call me somewhere so abruptly—and alone? The more I tried to make sense of it, the more the silence of the room pressed in on me.
"Sir, the car is ready to go. Shall we go ahead?" the peon said. I decided to go home and discuss it with my wife as well.
"Yeah! Let's go," I replied and walked towards the car.
After reaching the car, I noticed the reflection of a man standing on the rooftop. But when I turned back, he had vanished into thin air.
"Sir, we might encounter traffic again. Hurry," the driver said.
I shrugged off the thought of that man and stepped into the car.
As I reached for the seatbelt, my fingers brushed against something tucked beside the seat—a folded slip of paper I didn't remember leaving there. My heart skipped. Another message.
My heartbeat quickened. I decided to open it. While opening that slip, my fingers were trembling in an unusual rhythm, as if my body already knew something my mind refused to accept.
Later, when the paper straightened, I couldn`t read a single word. 'Cuz that slip was empty—nothing was written on it.
A blank slip. No ink. No instructions. No explanation. Somehow, that terrified me more than any threat could have.
I leaned out the window to see if there was someone lurking nearby. But there was no trace of anything strange.
I returned to my seat and told the driver to start the car. He didn't hesitate—his foot slammed on the accelerator, and we shot forward, racing toward my home.
Dusk had fallen by then, and a cool, steady breeze slipped through the window. The road outside buzzed with noise and movement, but it all felt strangely muted. It was as if a wide, invisible boundary had formed around me, keeping the world at a distance while my thoughts drifted somewhere far from reality.
I was lost in the thoughts of those slips and the series of incidents that took place. The more I tried to make sense of it, the more it drained every bit of strength from me.
I didn't even notice when I dozed off.
When I opened my eyes, the car was already standing at my door. My wife was standing in the courtyard waiting for me.
I got out of the car, waved my hand to bid farewell to the driver, and walked towards her. Seeing her there made my heart finally feel the ease it had been craving since morning.
But wait a minute. Was that a spray bottle in her hands?
Suddenly, her facial expression changed. She looked dangerous rather than lovely. She raised that water sprinkler again like a weapon, and the chase began.
"This time, I am not gonna spare you. You murderer!" Her shout was so loud that Leo burst out of the house, sprinting toward us.
"What happened, Mommy?" Leo shouted.
After hearing his voice, Bella stopped. "Baby, what are you doing out here?" Bella asked.
"Oh, it's Daddy. I thought a thief broke in. That's why I shouted," Leo replied.
"Like mother, like son."
"Leo, go to your room. Mumma will catch you later," Bella said. After hearing this, Leo sprinted towards his room, leaving me and Bella alone.
"What did you say— 'like mother like son,' huh?" Bella said fiercely.
"End this for today. I am too tired to run away from you," I requested, panting hard.
"Why? What happened?" Bella asked softly, worry tightening her expression. I headed towards her and gave her a hug.
"There is nothing to worry about. So, wipe that expression of yours ," I told her while pinching her cheeks. Her cheeks became red after this.
"Then tell me, what happened?" my wife asked softly.
"Sure. Why not? But before that I need an energy refill," I said humorously.
"Fine. Go freshen up. I'll warm the food in the meantime," my wife said.
We headed towards our house together. But in the hall, we split off in different directions for a while. She went towards the kitchen, and I went towards the bathroom to shake off all the exhaustion and tiredness from my shoulders.
After the bath, I felt as light as a feather drifting free from a bird's wing. I was about to doze off on the bed when I remembered that Bella was heating up food for me.
And she lacked the patience required to forgive a person twice a day for his "unforgivable mistakes"—according to her.
So, I shrugged off the idea of lying on my cozy bed and went towards the hall. Bella was placing plates on the table when I reached there. Leo was sitting in the chair beside her, waiting for his food.
I went toward them and took my seat. "So, what's for dinner?" I asked excitedly.
Bella glanced at me with a mock glare. "Something you'll finish without complaining, hopefully," she said, sliding a bowl toward me.
The aroma hit me first—warm spices, butter, something nostalgic.
Leo perked up. "It's pasta night!" he announced proudly, as if he'd cooked it himself.
"Honey, you are the best. You truly are an angel fallen straight from heaven," I said.
"That's more than enough buttering for one day. Save the rest for tomorrow," my wife replied as she took her seat.
"I really mean it, honey," I said.
"Oh, come on, I know everything already. Now hurry up and eat before it gets cold," she replied, stuffing a piece of bread into my mouth.
In the middle of all this, someone arrived at our doorstep and started hammering on the door like a madman.
It startled us. "Wait, I'll go check. Who could be at the doorstep at this hour?" I said firmly. A bad feeling crept over me.
"Daddy, don't go. It's a trap. A ghost is trying to fool us," Leo whimpered, trembling with fear. His innocence made me laugh, and I patted his head.
"There's no such thing as ghosts, idiot," I said to console him and walked toward the gate.
"Beware of ghosts," my wife called out mockingly while pulling Leo into her arms.
Then we heard, "Mr. Anderson, help!". The voice was familiar. It was our neighbor, Mr. Wittman—a sixty‑year‑old man living with his wife.
I rushed to the door. When I opened it, I saw him soaked in sweat and terror. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Mr. Anderson, help me—my shed is on fire!" he cried.
"It's fine. It's just a shed. Calm down. Why are you in such a panic?" I asked.
"She's in there," he replied.
"What! Mrs. Wittman is inside?" Bella shouted. "Have you called the fire brigade?"
"No. That's why I came here. Please call them," Mr. Wittman said desperately.
"But we don't have time for that!" I shouted. I grabbed the blanket from the sofa and sprinted toward their house. Bella, Leo, and Mr. Wittman ran after me.
By the time I reached the shed, it was already swallowed by roaring flames. I jumped into the fire—it was the only chance left to save Mrs. Wittman.
Inside, every corner was filled with thick smoke, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I covered my face with the blanket and pushed forward. My vision blurred, the smoke stinging my eyes, but I continued my search.
I felt something under my feet when I moved forward. It rolled away in forward direction with slightest pressure and bumped into something.
I moved closer to see what it had bumped into—and that's when I discovered something way too shocking.