That night, Murat tried to forget about it. He told himself it was nothing. An echo. A trick of sound. Something his mind filled in because the silence was too deep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Waiting to fall asleep. Minutes passed. Then a sound. Murat’s eyes snapped open. There it was again. Faint. Muffled. Voices.
He sat up slowly. Listening. They weren’t coming from outside. Not from the street. Not from anywhere distant. They were close. Too close. Murat swung his legs off the bed and stood up. For a moment, he hesitated. Then headed downstairs. The house was quiet. Still. But as he got closer to the garage door the sound grew clearer.
Murat stopped just before stepping in. His hand rested on the frame. He held his breath. Then stepped inside. The voices returned instantly. Low. Layered. Uneven. Murat stood there, frozen.
Because now… he was sure. He hadn’t imagined it.