Episode 3

Mary’s voice pulled me back to reality like a taut rope.

I found myself standing at the front door. It opened, and there she was—Mary, with her usual warm, worried eyes fixed on me.

I caught her gaze and pulled myself together. Mary was the one who had filled the silence after my father’s death and my mother’s departure.

That day—when my mother handed me over to Mary—still lived vividly in my heart. The day everything changed.

Mary’s voice distracted me again:

“You’ve been thinking too much lately… You need to work on yourself a bit!”

I gave her a crooked, tired smile and said hello.

Just as I was about to step inside, something flashed in the corner of my eye—like someone was watching me.

I turned around… but no one was there.

I brushed it off and closed the door behind me.

I walked into the kitchen, and music flooded my ears. A cheerful, upbeat song—the kind I always loved to play while cooking.

I washed my hands thoroughly and started preparing dinner. Nothing fancy, but made with care.

Mary joined me, wearing that same comforting smile.

We sat together, shared the food, talked, laughed.

Later, we curled up in front of the TV, picked out an old comedy to lighten the mood.

After all the laughter, the dinner, and the movie, Mary stood up and said she was heading to bed.

I smiled, leaned in, kissed her cheek, and whispered:

“Goodnight, my sweet old lady. I love you.”

She chuckled in her warm, worn-out tone:

“Goodnight, little rascal… Don’t overthink. Just sleep.”

I opened my bedroom door and stepped inside gently.

The room smelled familiar and comforting—like the dried flowers on the corner of my desk, and the soft glow of my bedside lamp painting dreams on the wall.

I played a song—a melody that always made me feel alive.

I tied my hair up in a messy bun and stood in the center of the room.

Slowly, as if the world belonged only to me, I began to twirl.

My steps were light, like feathers. My hands sliced through the air. A small joy bloomed in my chest.

One more spin, and my eyes landed on the window.

I stopped.

Felt like I was being watched.

Slowly, I walked over and opened it.

Cool night air brushed against my face, but the street outside was quiet and dark… no one was there.

Just the rain. Just the silence. Just me.

I squinted, trying to see through the darkness.

But no.

Just my imagination.

I shut the window.

The click of the glass sounded like the end of a dream.

I was tired.

I turned off the music and dropped onto the bed.

My hand reached for the stuffed toy that always sat there—the one my dad had given me, back when the world felt kinder.

I hugged it close, as if that fragment of memory could still soothe me.

My eyelids grew heavy.

But just as sleep was pulling me under…

A sound echoed through the night.

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