After Raymond had waited for what felt like an eternity, sitting silently in the stillness of Maria's living room, the minutes stretching like hours, an uncomfortable weight began to settle in his chest. The longer the silence dragged on, the clearer it became—something wasn't right.
He checked the time. Again. And again. Still nothing. Not a knock at the door, not the sound of a car approaching, not even the creak of footsteps outside. Just silence. Cold, heavy silence.
At first, he told himself to be patient. That maybe they were running errands, maybe they were caught up somewhere. But the deeper the quiet sank in, the more his mind started racing. Why was no one here? Why hadn't anyone returned? Why had the house been so spotless—almost too clean?
Then the realization began to dawn on him like a creeping shadow.
They knew.
Somehow, they knew he was coming.
