The TV in the corner was still on.A news reporter's voice filled the room, sharp and mocking:
"Another day, another failure from our so-called officers. No leads, no progress. How long will they hide behind excuses? Who killed Professor Jacobsi? And why?"
A panel of "experts" argued loudly on screen, blaming the police, speculating nonsense, throwing theories like a circus.
Reed glanced at the TV and looked away, jaw tight.Maya didn't even bother. She'd heard worse.
Then the narrator — your author voice — cuts in like a knife:
If only those fools knew…The answers aren't in their guesses.They lie buried somewhere else — hidden in the past.
The screen kept flashing sensational headlines.But none of them realized how close they already were…or how far.
Meanwhile... In the past...
Evelyn pushed open the door of the apartment.Schwann was on the couch, controller in hand, a half-won game paused on screen. His cat darted across the floor with a ball of yarn.
He looked up immediately.
"Hey! You're back!" he said, sitting straighter."How was the interview with the principal?"
Evelyn didn't speak.She lifted her hands and signed, crisp and fast:
First… clean the room.
Schwann blinked, then looked around at the mess — snack wrappers, clothes, tangled wires.
"Oh. Uh—yeah. Right. Cleaning. Got it."
He jumped up, scrambling to gather things, as the cat meowed like it agreed with her.
Evelyn watched him for a moment, emotion unreadable, then quietly walked to her desk, placing her notebook down — the same one she would one day fill with dark, irreversible decisions.
Cleaning took time.
Nearly half an hour passed with Schwann moving like a whirlwind—folding clothes, stacking books, dragging a broom across the floor while his cat chased dust instead of yarn.
When he finally dropped onto the couch, chest rising fast, he wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Done… I think," he said, exhaling hard.
Evelyn looked around the room—now neat, quiet, and finally breathable.She stepped closer.
Schwann waited, awkward, unsure if she liked it or hated it.
Then Evelyn suddenly leaned forward and hugged him.
A small, bright smile curved her lips, one of those rare ones she kept only for him.
Schwann froze for a second, then laughed softly.
"Okay… so I did good?"
She didn't sign anything.She didn't need to.
Her smile was answer enough.
Evelyn stepped back, then reached up and gently petted his hair, fingers slow, almost playful.
Schwann groaned. "Hey—don't mess it up."
Then he smiled and asked casually,"So… how was your day, adopted mom?"
Her expression changed instantly.
Evelyn pulled her hand back and signed sharply:
Don't call me that.
Schwann blinked. "What? I meant—"
She signed again, slower this time, calmer:
I accept being your mom.But don't call me adopted mom.
He stared for a second… then laughed.
"Alright, alright. Just mom then."
She rolled her eyes and sat beside him. They talked—hands moving, words overlapping, jokes half-spoken and half-signed. Schwann laughed too loud. Evelyn smiled too easily.
For a moment, the world outside didn't exist.
Then Evelyn stood up, cracked her knuckles dramatically, and signed:
Today… I make dinner.
Schwann's smile faded just a little."…Should I be scared?"
Her grin answered before her hands did.
Five minutes later, Schwann was running.
"WHY DO MOMS ALWAYS HIT LIKE THAT?" he yelled, dodging a flying kitchen towel.
Evelyn chased him halfway across the room, swatting him once more on the arm — not hard, just enough to make a point.Classic mother behaviour.
She dragged him to the kitchen by the collar and signed proudly:
I can cook too.
Schwann crossed his arms, suspicious."…Sure you can."
She grabbed a pan.Turned the stove on too high.Oil splashed. Something hissed aggressively.
Schwann leaned on the counter."That sound? That's fear."
Evelyn ignored him, cracked an egg — shell included — straight into the pan.
Schwann's eyes widened."…Mom. Stop."
She waved him off and added salt.Then more salt.Then a lot more salt.
Smoke rose.
The cat appeared, sniffed the air, and immediately walked away.
Schwann stepped in, grabbed the pan, turned the stove down, and sighed like a tired adult.
"Okay. You tried. That's enough."
Evelyn frowned and signed defensively:
It just needs time.
He tasted it.Paused.Swallowed.
"…It needs prayer."
Twenty minutes later, Schwann was the one cooking, moving smoothly around the kitchen while Evelyn sat on the counter, pretending not to watch.
He placed the plate in front of her.
"There. Dinner."
She tasted it.Her eyes lit up.
She signed slowly, honestly:
You win.
Schwann smiled."Obviously."
And for that night —they laughed, and forgot the world existed.
They ate quietly at first, the clink of cutlery filling the pauses.
Then Evelyn's hands began to move, fast and excited.
First day of college tomorrow.Real classes.Real students.
Her eyes shone with something rare—hope.
Schwann smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes."College isn't always nice," he said carefully."People can be idiots. Bullies… professors… anyone."
He leaned forward, voice lower."If anyone messes with you—anyone—I'll handle it. I don't care who they are."
For a moment, something dark passed over his face.
Evelyn noticed.
Her hands cut the air sharply.
No.You won't do anything stupid.No madness.
He looked at her, then nodded slowly."…Okay. I promise."
They cleaned up together.The mood softened again.
"Good night, Mom," Schwann said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes and signed one last thing:
Good night. Don't stay up late.
He disappeared into his room.
Evelyn went into hers.
The door closed.The world went quiet.
She studied—notes spread across the bed, lamp glowing low.Her eyelids grew heavy.The words blurred.
Eventually, she lay down and turned off the light.
Sleep came slowly.
Then—
A sound.
A low moan, distant, unclear.Not loud enough to place.Not clear enough to understand.
Evelyn's eyes snapped open in the dark.
She held her breath.
The sound came again—soft, strained… and gone.
The room fell silent.
And that's where the night ended.