The estate hall fell into a deep, frightening silence.
Every parent.
Every neighbor.
Every child.
All eyes were fixed on Mr. Dike.
Ada's heart pounded hard in her chest.
Chidi squeezed her hand nervously, his fingers cold with fear.
Slowly… Mr. Dike stood up.
His shoulders drooped, heavy with a burden that looked far older than him — like a secret he had carried for decades without rest.
"I never wanted any of this," he began softly, his voice trembling.
"I moved into Flat Seven hoping for peace… but what I found was something I never expected."
The hall held its breath.
"The flat is haunted."
Gasps tore through the room.
Some mothers pulled their children closer.
A few people whispered prayers under their breath.
Mr. Dike swallowed hard and continued,
"Years ago… a child disappeared in this compound. Her body was never found. Only…"
his voice cracked,
"only her spirit remained."
Ada's breath caught in her throat.
"She still lingers in Flat Seven," he said. "She is drawn to children who feel fear… loneliness… or sadness. I have tried to calm her. I have tried to stop her from harming anyone. But I could not make her leave."
Everything suddenly connected.
The missing children.
The red glow.
The midnight cries.
The voice calling from the corridor.
"The gifts… the biscuits… everything you saw me giving the children," Mr. Dike said with tears in his eyes, "was not meant to harm them. It was to keep her calm. Each time children came near, she would settle. I was trying to protect them… and protect the living."
Tears slipped down Ada's cheeks without her realizing.
Chidi's grip on her hand tightened.
Around them, even angry parents were now blinking back tears.
Mr. Dike bent slightly, almost to his knees, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"She is not evil. She is lost. She is scared. She is trapped. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I stayed… because if I left, her restlessness would grow… and the children would be in even greater danger."
A cold shiver ran through Ada's body.
This was not a human enemy.
This was pain that never
found peace.
This was grief that had never been laid to rest.