Late at night, Thomas trudged up the stairs, exhausted from a long day at work. As he reached the landing, he heard his daughter’s soft, familiar voice coming from her room: “Daddy, can you close the door?” Without thinking, he turned, smiled faintly, and gently pushed her bedroom door shut. It was such a routine request that it barely registered in his sleepy mind. But when he lay down and the quiet settled around him, a chilling realization crept in—his daughter wasn’t home. She was staying with his parents for the weekend.

Heart pounding, Thomas sat up, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. Slowly, he made his way to his daughter’s room, each step heavier than the last. The hallway felt colder, darker. When he reached the door, he hesitated, then turned the knob. The room was exactly as she had left it—tidy, empty, untouched. But the door, which he knew he had closed moments ago, was wide open. From the darkness inside came a faint whisper, soft and sweet—“Thanks, Daddy.”