Two years after losing my son, I heard someone knocking at my door… and calling me ‘Mom.’ Ever since my son passed away two years ago, the nights have been the worst—too silent, too long, too loud with memories. I distract myself the only way I know how: cleaning what’s already clean, wiping the same counter again and again just to keep my mind busy. It was almost midnight when it happened. Three soft knocks. At first, I froze. No one knocks at that hour. Nothing good comes at that hour. The hou

ØRKA - phantom