I listened attentively to the soothing sounds. They came from outside.

During the night, I had left the window open so that fresh air could come in through the slit. Now, I regretted it, even if the melody was not bad at all. However, loud noises had kept me awake that night and as if that had not been enough, these were also replaced by loud annoying birds in the morning.

Of course, I had nothing against animals, not at all, even though I had already run over three, in my defense, unintentionally.

It was the familiar roar of the city that I was missing.

With a yawn, I rose from the edge of the bed.

I didn’t feel that rested. However, despite everything, I had gotten more sleep than in the last two weeks, when I had had to prepare everything for university and the move. Then Dr. Copeland had called on short notice to inform my mother that she was next on the patient list. This doctor... I swear.

The soft music brought me back to reality.

Curious, I crept to the window to take a look outside and search for the source of the harmonious sound. The neighboring house was only about four meters away from ours.

I tried to see something, but the rising sun on the horizon behind the trees blinded me.

Protectively, I raised a hand in front of my face so that I could see through the window.

What I spotted was a guy in sweatpants, sitting at a grand piano...playing the piano. He had no top on, which allowed me to see his defined masculine upper body, and I immediately wondered if he wasn’t freezing.

My gaze lost itself on the muscles over which the taut skin stretched, wandered over the traitorously broad shoulders down the arms where aesthetic veins stood out.

His fingers moved rapidly over the keys while he sat straight and stared in concentration at the notes that lay somewhat chaotically scattered on the grand piano.

I must have stared at him too long because he turned his head in my direction.

I winced.

It was none other than Julian Bardot.

Shit, shit, shit!

In shock, I yanked the curtain closed, tearing off at least one of the hooks and toppling the vase without flowers next to the window. Instantly, I felt the blush rise in my face.

Why did something so embarrassing always have to happen to me, of all people?

Hopefully, he was having the same difficulty recognizing me.

If I wasn’t mistaken, this was his room. The bad thing was that it was directly across from mine. When I had the curtain open, he could look over at me without difficulty.

I stared at the curtain in shock.

He could have watched me from over there yesterday…

At the thought, goosebumps came over me, slowly spreading over my whole body.

Julian could prepare himself for something.

I pulled open the door to the hallway and made my way to the bathroom. In the process, I passed the room where I had dropped the picture yesterday. The mere memory made the unpleasant feelings come up again. I still wished I had never entered that room. If there were any way it could be undone, I would do it.

Once in the bathroom, I drew all the curtains. Even though the windows only faced our other neighbors and our own backyard, I couldn’t deny that I felt discreetly watched since just now.

After showering, I returned to my room and put on some fresh clothes. In the background, I could still hear the soft melody, but I ignored it skillfully.

Just piano music, nothing special.

I went to the dresser where I had put my jeans last night and reached for them. Immediately, I felt something sharp.

What was in my jeans pocket?

Carefully, I pulled the item out.

It was the corner of the envelope.

My pulse rate quickened noticeably.

After my mother’s reaction last night, my curiosity had faded, and now I felt like a traitor.

Yesterday, I hadn’t had a chance to bring it back because the door had still been locked. Besides, I didn’t want to risk being caught by Mum. I didn’t want her to think that I was betraying her trust.

But I didn’t want to read it anymore, either. I was even ashamed that I had taken someone else’s belongings. What had gotten into me?

I decided to fight my curiosity and return it as soon as an opportunity arose.

Until then, I would have to hide the envelope somewhere. Somewhere in my room...

My eyes fell on the pile of books next to the window. I grabbed the first book I could find and put the letter inside. No one would find it here because who, except me, was interested in French philosophy?

More nervous than last night, I headed downstairs, where my Mum had already made breakfast. Radio music and a sweet scent came toward me and displaced the unpleasant feeling from just now.

When I saw what was waiting for me on the kitchen counter, my mouth watered. Pancakes with blueberries.

Mum always made me some when she wanted to apologize for something. It could only be about yesterday.

And there they were again, the feeling of guilt. Whatever line I had crossed, I felt bad. But I wasn’t going to let on, so I sat down and put three pancakes on my plate.

“Good morning, darling.” Mum smiled at me.

I didn’t know where she got her cheerfulness, but I didn’t want to ask either. She was in a good mood, and I didn’t want to ruin that. Not again.

“Good morning, Blairville! This is Joe Bexley with the morning news.” I glanced at the kitchen radio on the refrigerator. “Twenty-five-year-old Vanderwood student Anabelle Clayton is missing. Three days ago, she had been out in the inner city with her friends, who now report her missing. It is known that the student liked to go jogging in the woods behind Vanderwood, near Fogs Forest. The police department is not commenting further. However, a search party is being sent into the woods.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I looked at Mum, who was turning the last pancake in the pan with a grim expression.

“City authorities are warning people not to enter Fogs Forest. The DeLoughreys, who own the forest, also don’t want to comment.”

Those strange rich people again...