Chapter 2: The Secret Behind The Missing Weeks
The next morning, Elena went straight to the police station.
She expected disbelief.
Instead, the officer’s face changed the moment he saw her address.
“You’re talking about apartment 7B?”
“Yes.”
The officer exchanged a look with his partner.
“What?”
He sighed.
“Ma’am… according to our records, you haven’t lived there for almost a year.”
Elena felt the room spin.
“That’s impossible.”
The officer opened the computer.
“We have reports. Utility records. Building access logs.”
He turned the screen toward her.
Her name appeared.
But beside it was a strange note.
Resident temporarily relocated due to medical circumstances.
Elena stared.
“I was on holiday.”
The officer looked confused.
“Do you remember the last month before your trip?”
Elena opened her mouth.
But no words came.
Because suddenly…
She couldn’t.
She remembered leaving work.
She remembered buying train tickets.
She remembered packing her suitcase.
But the weeks before that?
They were blurry.
Fragments.
Missing pieces.
That afternoon, Elena returned to the apartment building.
She needed answers.
The elderly neighbor from across the hallway opened her door.
Mrs. Novak.
The woman’s face turned pale.
“Elena?”
“You remember me?”
The old woman looked around nervously.
“Of course I remember you.”
“Then why does everyone say I haven’t lived here?”
Mrs. Novak hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Because that’s what they wanted everyone to believe.”
Elena stepped closer.
“Who?”
The old woman looked down the hallway.
“Your brother.”
Elena froze.
“My brother died eight years ago.”
Mrs. Novak’s hands trembled.
“No.”
She whispered.
“He didn’t.”
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
“He came here three months ago.”
Elena felt dizzy.
“My brother is dead.”
Mrs. Novak shook her head.
“He came with another man. They changed the locks. They told everyone you had moved away.”
“Why?”
The old woman looked at her.
“Because they were looking for something.”
“What?”
Mrs. Novak reached into her drawer and pulled out a small envelope.
“I found this behind your mailbox.”
Elena opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Only one sentence.
If you come back, don’t trust anyone who says they’re helping you.
Her hands started shaking.
Because the handwriting…
Was hers.
That evening, Alex knocked on her hotel door.
Elena immediately stepped back.
“How did you find me?”
Alex looked exhausted.
“I found something inside the apartment.”
He handed her a small box.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know.”
Elena opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
A picture of herself.
Standing beside a man.
Her brother.
But behind them was something terrifying.
A moving company truck.
And a date.
The date was one week after Elena supposedly left.
May you like
Alex looked at her carefully.
“Elena… I think someone erased your life.”
