Not a person.
A room.
A fully furnished room.
My breath caught instantly.
There was a bed neatly made with floral blankets.
A bookshelf.
Family photos.
Children’s drawings taped carefully to the walls.
And at the center of it all—
a large framed portrait of Daniel’s late wife, Rebecca.
Candles surrounded the picture like some kind of shrine.
I stared in disbelief.
This wasn’t storage.
This was obsession.
Behind me, little Emily smiled innocently.
“Daddy brings flowers down here every week.”
A chill ran through my entire body.
I stepped further inside slowly.
There were dozens of notebooks stacked neatly beside the bed.
One lay open.
My hands trembled as I picked it up.
Leave a Comment