Chapter 2

"Just asking? Who asked like that? Cursing my son in the middle of the night? You must have nothing better to do!" She snapped.

She grabbed the remote and cranked up the TV volume, making it clear she didn't want to talk to me anymore.

I stared at her back, and the tiny shred of hope I was clinging to shattered in an instant.

At eleven o'clock sharp, my phone buzzed with a video call.

Manuel's familiar smile greeted me from the screen.

"Honey, how was your day? Did Luka behave?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

The background was his home office in that so-called "Alakapo apartment," with a few foreign books on the shelves and a steaming mug of coffee perched on the desk.

Everything looked flawless, so perfect that it felt unreal.

I stared at him on the screen, searching his eyes and every little expression, hoping to spot even the tiniest sign that something was wrong.

But there was nothing.

He played his part perfectly, so gentle, so loving, just like the Manuel I remembered.

I started to doubt myself.

I wondered if I was going crazy. Maybe Luka's innocent words and Lilian's over-the-top reaction really got to me, making me paranoid.

"What's wrong, honey? You look a little off tonight. Are you too tired?" Manuel noticed my silence right away.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. "Nothing. I'm just a bit worn out. How about you? Are you settling in over there?"

"Everything's good, but I really miss you and Luka," he said and then blew a kiss at the camera.

I tried to smile, but it just wouldn't happen.

After hanging up, I couldn't sleep at all.

Luka's innocent words, Lilian's harsh rebuke, and Manuel's "perfect" video call kept haunting me.

Those three things felt like airtight nets, trapping me and making it impossible to breathe.

I walked barefoot into the master bedroom, quiet as a shadow.

The huge closet loomed against the wall, silent like a giant beast.

Moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, casting a cold white light across the smooth cabinet doors.

I reached out, gently resting my hand on the chilly handle, and tried to pull it open.

The door wouldn't move an inch.

It was like something inside was blocking it, keeping it firmly shut.

My heart was racing.

I got down on my knees, my face almost touching the gap at the bottom, barely daring to breathe.

A barely-there but impossible-to-ignore smell slipped right into my nostrils.

It was a cocktail of sweaty man, stale mold from a room sealed too long, and that unmistakable instant noodle funk, the dirty, living scent of a real person.

My blood froze on the spot.

My mind just blew up with a bang.

Luka was telling the truth.

My husband, who video-called me every night from "Alakapo," was really right here, inside the closet.

I spent the whole night on the floor of the master bedroom, leaning against the cold wall, fixated on that closet, not moving an inch.

The darkness faded to gray and slowly gave way to the first light of dawn.

My body was frozen stiff, but my mind had never been so clear.

Fear wrapped around me like a thousand icy hands, closing in from every direction.

But beneath that overwhelming terror, a stranger emotion began to stir. That was anger.

It was an overwhelming rage, the kind that surged up when the people closest to me conspired together to deceive and manipulate me, treating me like a pawn in their game.

The next morning, I got up like I always did, washed up, and made breakfast for Luka.

Lilian was already up, bustling around the kitchen, sneaking glances at me now and then, her eyes full of curiosity and a hint of guilt.

I acted like nothing had happened, though the exhaustion from my sleepless night was written all over my face.

After breakfast, I dropped Luka off at school and then headed back to the master bedroom.

Facing the closet, I deliberately raised my voice. "It's getting colder. Time to get out the thicker coats."

As I spoke, I reached for the handle.

"Stop! Don't touch that!" Lilian shouted.

She rushed in from the living room almost instantly, grabbing my hand like she had eyes in the back of her head.

Her grip was shockingly strong, and her face was openly tense and panicked.

Lilian said, "I just put a ton of mothballs in there. The smell's overpowering.

"It's bad for your health! If you need anything, just let me know. I'll grab it for you!"

As she spoke, Lilian hurriedly opened a small door at the edge of the closet, snatched a coat at random, stuffed it into my arms, and quickly slammed the door shut.

Just as she slammed the door shut, I heard a sharp, unmistakable click.

I looked down and noticed something I'd never seen before: a small, inconspicuous copper padlock attached to the outside of the closet door.

It was cleverly tucked away in the shadow of the doorframe, so well-hidden that I'd never spot it if not deliberately searching for it.

She actually put a lock on the closet!

A cold, mocking laugh echoed in my mind.