Every Sunday For three years, Daniel believed his wife, Sophie, visited her sick mother every Sunday. She always left at 9 a.m. and returned by 6 p.m. One Sunday, Daniel decided to follow her. He watched her enter a small house on the outskirts of town. After an hour, she came out carrying a baby. Daniel was confused. His wife had told him she couldn't have children. He confronted her that evening, but she broke down before he could finish speaking. “The baby isn't mine,” she said. “I'm only protecting him.” “Protecting him from whom?” She looked toward their bedroom, where their eight-year-old son was sleeping. Then she whispered, “Your son has been asking about his little brother, hasn't he?” Daniel's heart stopped.

When Sophie moved into her new apartment, her landlord warned her never to enter the locked room at the end of the hallway. She agreed and forgot about it. Three weeks later, she returned home from work and found a man sitting in her living room. She screamed and reached for her phone, but he calmly told her he lived there. He showed her a rental agreement with her apartment number and the landlord's signature. Sophie immediately called the landlord. When he arrived, the man had disappeared. The landlord insisted she was imagining things and told her to stop asking questions. That night, Sophie heard someone moving inside the locked room. She found the key beneath the landlord's office door and unlocked it. Inside were photographs of every tenant who had lived in the apartment for the past fifteen years. Some were crossed out. Others had dates written beside their names. She found her own photograph at the bottom of the pile. Beside it was tomorrow's date. Then she noticed a photograph of the mysterious man. His name was written underneath, followed by one chilling sentence: “Missing since 2011. Last seen inside Apartment 14.”