The first thing my wife noticed was the blinking light.
It wasn’t loud or urgent—just a small, steady flicker coming from the smoke detector above the kitchen doorway.
At first, we assumed it was just a low battery warning. But something about it felt… off. Maybe it was the pattern, or maybe it was the quiet unease that had followed us since we arrived at the Airbnb.
That night, as the house settled into silence, she glanced up again and said, “Can you check that tomorrow?”
I nodded, not realizing how much that small moment would end up changing everything.
The next morning, curiosity got the better of me. I pulled over a chair, unscrewed the detector, and carefully opened it.
