Before I could respond, Maria entered holding a small medical box.
"If you won't tell me what happened," she said firmly, "at least let me clean your wounds."
Her tone left no room for refusal.
I didn't argue.
She sat beside me on the bed, gently cleaning and bandaging my injuries with careful hands.
She didn't ask questions.
But I could feel her worry.
After a while, she quietly left the room.
And I finally drifted into restless sleep.The next morning, I opened my eyes slowly.
The space beside me was neatly made.
No one had returned.
After breakfast, I used the home computer to request a day off.
Then I left the house and handled everything one by one—reporting my lost phone and bank card at the police station, visiting the bank, and going through the service center to block and replace my accounts.
I bought a new phone afterward.
Step by step, I re-downloaded my apps and logged in with my new number.
