Mandine woke up the next day with a sense of reluctance. "Sleep is also a drug, but the law does not punish it," she thought to herself. "When we fall asleep, for the first time since we woke up in the morning, we get to think about nothing, to be a person without conscience or pain, just like a drug does. And then we wake up to face the world, to think again, to feel guilty for something we did or did not do, for that pain that grips us. We are lazy and try with all our might to cling to the bed. But every drug has its dark side. Going to sleep is an obsession for some people. Their hearts flutter before they fall asleep, and all the thoughts of the coming hours come together in that moment, along with the feeling of heartbreak, pain, and guilt. Then there is no way out: either you cross that barrier to sleep, or you get up, withdraw from the battle, and come back to face it later."
"I have to stop the existential questions with the morning," Mandine said, as she got up from her place and headed towards the kitchen after washing up, hoping to surprise no one in the house. "Ah, damn, I must have been late getting up," she muttered, glancing at the clock which pointed to 10:30. Then she noticed the food on the table, with a small paper next to it, placed horizontally. It was meant to catch her attention. She picked it up and read:
"Dear Mandine,
I will drop Sarah to school and buy some things on my way, I may be a little late. I've already made breakfast, and a letter with your name on it arrived this morning. You'll find it next to my note. Consider the house your home."
Mandine looked at the table again and noticed another letter. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. "To Mandine Warburg," she read aloud, noticing that it also mentioned Catherine's home address. Mandine wondered, she hadn't told anyone she was staying there. "Maybe Adam sent it," Mandine muttered as she opened the letter and began reading its contents:
"Not long ago, I started a blog to share my interests about history. That was my passion— not the history taught in schools or found in historians' books, nor the one written by the victors. The victors always see their views as right and everything else as wrong. I was interested in the dark side of history that is difficult to access. Once, I did a research paper on the history of the American continent and mentioned that what I wrote was not pure fiction, but based on a book of great historical value that I found and used as a source for my research. The story surprised me, so I thought of writing one of the local newspapers about it. But I was rejected by most of the newspapers I wrote to, as I had never published anything before. So, I decided to share it on my blog. After that, I received a lot of messages— some attacking my article, accusing me of falsifying history and spreading myths, while others confirmed what I had mentioned. Your letter was among them, asking me to send you a copy of the book. However, due to some circumstances, I could not send it. Instead, I placed the book in one of Egypt's libraries and mentioned it in my blog. I thought you were just a reader who wanted to read it. But you did not mention that you would come all this way to publish the story. Ms. Mandine, this is my first letter telling you that the story is true, that the book you have is worth gold, and that I will continue writing to you— a second and third time— as you progress through the book, to tell you what else I know."
Mandine felt a shiver run through her body. She flipped through the letter, which did not mention the sender's name or address. Could it be that someone was following her on her way home? She felt a rising panic. How did he know her name and address?
In a panic, she picked up her phone and texted Adam:
"I received a letter from the blog owner. Did you talk to him again? Did he write to you too?"
A few minutes later, Mandine received a reply:
"No, I haven't spoken to him. He hasn't responded to our messages yet. Did he text you? I'll be there in half an hour."
Mandine felt panic for the first time in a long time. "Someone was watching me," she said aloud. The thought terrified her, and she was unsure of who could be behind the letters or what their intentions were.