But tonight, as she descended the stairs into the underground, she had no idea that a single decision—to take the metro instead of the bus—was about to alter her life forever. The platform was almost deserted, a dull glow from the flickering lights casting shadows across the tiled walls. Clara rubbed at her temples, trying to clear the fog of fatigue.
That was when she heard it: thin, sharp, fragile. A cry. Her eyes swept the platform, searching, until they caught on a stroller pushed against the far bench. She frowned, her pulse quickening. The cry rose again, unmistakable. She walked closer, each step slower than the last, dread crawling up her spine.