As soon as I returned home, my neighbor suddenly said: “There’s a man screaming in your house every day, he’s already gotten on everyone’s nerves.” But how is this possible if I live alone?

That night, I barely slept.

In the morning, I made a decision. I called work and said I was sick. At 7:45, I left the house so the neighbors could see me, started the car, drove a few meters, then returned, turned off the engine, and quietly entered through the side door. In the bedroom, I quickly crawled under the bed and pulled the covers up, trying to hide completely.

Time dragged on endlessly. I was beginning to doubt my own sanity when, around 11:20, I heard the front door open.

Footsteps walked down the hallway, calm and familiar, as if they knew this house. Shoes scraped lightly on the floor—the rhythm was strangely familiar.