I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I had lived next door to Mark for almost six years.
He seemed like the nicest man imaginable.
“What did you do?”
“I asked him to explain.”
“And?”
“He gave me this.”
She placed an envelope on the table.
Inside was an old photograph.
It showed Mark and Michael as teenagers.
But written on the back was a date.
And beneath it, four words:
“Ask him about the fire.”
I stared at her.
“What fire?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then she looked directly at me.
“But Michael said Mark had lied about what happened twelve years ago.”
I left the coffee shop more confused than ever.
That evening, I saw Mark outside his house.
He waved.
“Everything okay?”
I forced a smile.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
He smiled back.
But something about him suddenly felt different.
That night, I barely slept.
The next morning, there was a knock on my door.
It was Mark.
He looked terrified.
“Did you talk to my wife?”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“Yesterday.”
I didn’t answer.
He stepped inside.
“Please,” he said. “You have to listen to me.”
I closed the door.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then whispered,
“Michael is alive.”
I already knew.
But hearing Mark say it made everything real.
“Why did everyone think he was dead?”
Mark sat down.
“Because I told them he was.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
He stared at the floor.
“Because twelve years ago, Michael tried to kill me.”
I froze.
“He was obsessed with my life. My job. My girlfriend. Everything.”
“Your wife?”
Mark nodded.
“Back then, she wasn’t my wife yet.”
He told me that Michael had become increasingly unstable.
One night, the brothers had gotten into a violent argument.
There was a fire.
Michael disappeared.
Everyone assumed he had died.
But Mark had never reported seeing him escape.
“He survived,” Mark said.
“And he’s been blaming me ever since.”
I remembered the photograph.
“The fire.”
Mark nodded.
“He started it.”
For the first time, his hands began shaking.
“Then why is he back now?”
Mark looked at me.
“Because he wants revenge.”
I didn’t know who to believe.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
“Don’t trust Mark.”
A second message appeared.
“Ask him what happened to your neighbor two years ago.”
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Mark.
“What happened to Mr. Lewis?”
His face changed.
Mr. Lewis had lived across the street.
He had suddenly moved away two years earlier.
Mark had always told everyone that Lewis had moved closer to his daughter.
Mark stood up.
“You need to stay out of this.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t understand what you’re involved in.”
