THE CALL THAT NEVER HAPPENED

My mom called, asking me to pick up my brother Santi from school, sounding tired. I got him home, but Mom turned pale, insisting she never called—her phone showed no record. Yet my phone had the call, timestamped, and Santi heard it too. Unease settled in, especially when Mom got a call from my dad’s number—he died three years ago. She didn’t answer, and I dismissed it as a glitch, but strange things continued: phantom knocks, voices, and a family photo turned backward.

My friend Nessa mentioned “grief echoes,” unresolved energy from sudden loss. Listening to the saved voicemail, Mom’s voice sounded rehearsed, not natural. Then I found a letter from Dad, written before a 2019 surgery, promising to protect us. Checking the news, I learned a man was arrested near Santi’s school at 3:30 p.m. that day, luring kids. The call at 3:12 p.m. ensured I got Santi early.

The weirdness stopped after. Maybe it was coincidence, but I believe Dad’s love lingered, protecting us. Some bonds don’t break, even after death. Trust your gut—it might know what logic can’t explain.