At the time, I was home alone.
My parents had gone to a family event and wouldn't be home until that night.
Nothing seemed strange that afternoon. I watched TV while occasionally playing on my phone.
Around seven that evening, my phone rang.
Mom.
I picked up immediately.
“Hello, Mom?”
There was no answer.
“Hello?”
Still no sound.
I looked at the screen. The call was still connected. I heard something like wind coming from the other end.
“Mom?”
Then the call disconnected.
I figured there was something wrong with the signal. Not long afterward, my phone rang again.
It was Mom’s number again.
I quickly answered it.
“Hello?”
This time, I heard my mother’s voice.
“Don’t open the door.”
I fell silent.
“What?”
“Don’t open the door.”
Her voice was very quiet, and I started to feel uneasy.
“Why?”
There was no answer this time, and the call disconnected. I tried calling back, but it wouldn’t go through.
A few minutes later...
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Someone was knocking on the front door. I immediately remembered what Mom had said.
Don’t open the door.
I stood in the living room, staring at the door, and the knocking came again.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I didn’t answer. Then I heard a voice from outside.
“Open up.”
I recognized that voice.
Mom’s voice.
“Open the door, honey.”
I was about to walk toward the door when my phone rang again.
I looked at the screen.
Mom.
I answered it.
“Hello, Mom?”
My mother sounded panicked.
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t open the door.”
I stared at the front door.
“Mom... where are you?”
She didn’t answer. Not long afterward, Mom said,
“Don’t leave your room. Lock the door.”
I immediately ran to my room and locked the door. From the living room, the knocking continued.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Then Mom’s voice sounded again.
“Honey... open the door.”
I covered my own mouth so I wouldn’t answer. After several minutes, the voice stopped.
The house fell silent again.
I didn’t dare leave my room until my parents actually came home.
Around ten that night, I heard a car stop in front of the house.
Mom and Dad came inside.
I peeked out from behind my bedroom door to make sure it was really them before finally leaving my room.
I told them everything, and Mom looked deeply confused.
She took her phone out of her bag and showed me her call history.
There were several outgoing calls to my number, but she had no memory of making them.
Then I showed her the call history on my phone. Something made both of us fall silent.
There had been three calls from Mom’s number.
The first call was at 7:03 p.m.
The second call was at 7:07 p.m.
The third call was at 7:15 p.m.
But Mom said that at those times, her phone had been inside her bag, and the bag had been left in the living room at my grandmother’s house.
I thought it was all over.
Until a few days later, when Mom asked me,
“That night, when someone knocked on the door...”
“Yes?”
“What did you hear them say?”
I remembered.
“‘Open up.’”
Mom shook her head.
“That’s not what they said.”
I was confused.
“Then what did they say?”
Mom showed me something on her phone. There was a voice recording.
Somehow, one of the calls from that night had been saved as an automatic voicemail.
We played it.
At first, all we could hear was the sound of wind. Then came Mom’s voice.
Very softly.
“Don’t open the door.”
I got goosebumps—not because of her voice, but because after that sentence, another voice could be heard behind it. Someone was whispering very close to the microphone.
“I’m already inside.”
Ever since that night, whenever my phone rings and Mom’s name appears on the screen, I hesitate over whether she’s really the one calling.
Because I’ve learned one thing.
Sometimes, the person who appears on your screen isn’t necessarily the one calling you.