Still, I knew that sharing a home came with responsibilities. To balance things, I asked her for one small favor.
“All I need,” I said, “is for you to watch my three-year-old son while I’m at work from nine to five.”
And so, life moved on.
An Afternoon of Panic
Then came the day that changed everything.
It was an ordinary afternoon, but I happened to come home earlier than usual. As soon as I walked in, I noticed something unsettling. The house was far too quiet.
“Where’s my son?” I whispered to myself as panic tightened in my chest.
I searched every room—his toys scattered on the floor, his little shoes by the door—but no sign of him. My heart pounded. I rushed into the living room and found my best friend calmly sitting there.
She looked at me with a strange expression, then spoke softly:
“You can now… breathe.”
Her words froze me. For a moment, fear surged through me like a tidal wave. What did she mean? Where was my child?
