As soon as the front door closed, the “sick” girl jumped out of bed, put the thermometer — which she had secretly warmed on the radiator — back in its place, and turned on her favorite shows. The day promised to be perfect: a test at school, silence and freedom at home.
But exactly at noon, a sound echoed through the apartment — like someone opening the front door. The girl immediately hit pause, her heart dropping. It definitely wasn’t her mother — she always called first and never came home this early.
To understand what was happening, the girl carefully peeked into the hallway. Standing in the doorway was her father’s sister — a strict, cold woman the girl had never trusted. But now the aunt looked different: tense, nervous, as if she were hiding something.
The strangest thing — where did she get those keys? No one had ever given her a copy.
The aunt glanced around, checked the rooms as if afraid of catching someone inside. Once she was sure the apartment was empty, she took the mother’s coat from the hook and quickly, almost harshly, stuffed something into the inner pocket. Then she pulled out her phone and said quietly:
