Ciotka mojego męża przytuliła mnie przed ceremonią i wsunęła mi klucz do ręki – „Będziesz tego potrzebować szybciej, niż myślisz”

The pause bothered me more than the answer.

“What am I going to find?”

“You need to see it yourself.”

Then she hung up.

Ryan and I weren’t leaving for our honeymoon until the following evening.

Around noon, he went to pick up several things we’d left at the venue.

I told him I was going home to finish packing.

Instead, I drove to the address.

It was a small apartment building on a quiet street.

Nothing about it looked suspicious.

Three floors. Brick exterior. Children’s bicycles chained near the steps.

I sat in my car for five minutes.

Then I took out the key.

It opened the main entrance.

That was when I almost turned around.

Until that moment, part of me still believed Linda might be playing some bizarre family game.

But the key worked.

I climbed the stairs.

Apartment 3B.

I slid the key into the lock.

Click.

“Hello?”

No answer.

I pushed the door open.

The apartment was clearly lived in.