For a moment, she considered keeping it untouched until her husband, Noah, returned.
Friday evening arrived quietly.
When Noah finally stepped into the house, Margaret immediately noticed the tension in his expression.
"What happened?" she asked softly, stepping closer.
Noah exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead as if trying to push away a headache.
"Pack my bags," he said in a low, tired voice. "I have to leave for a business trip."
Margaret's heart skipped a beat.
"But it's already so late," she replied, her voice laced with concern.
"Weren't you supposed to go on vacation tomorrow? We planned that special trip…"
Noah let out a frustrated sigh, his jaw tightening.
"It's because of that stupid boy...George. He ran away, and now his father is pressuring people like us to find him."
Margaret frowned. "Ran away… where?"
"Into a ghost zone," Noah replied grimly.
