The Door.

Chapter- 7 (Final Chapter)

Good Ending

We hurried back to our flat, anxiety palpable in the air. "He must have left by now," I said, trying to quell the sense of urgency clawing at the back of my mind. Dordan, his brow furrowed in concern, chimed in, "Should we go and meet him and explain what happened?"

With determination, I replied, "No, but we are going to go in and abduct that guy in the kindest way possible."

Dordan raised an eyebrow, and Pablo looked at me with confusion. "What do you mean?" Pablo asked, glancing nervously between Dordan and me.

"Listen, guys," I said, my plan starting to take shape in my head, "now that his mom knows me, I'm going to ask her if he can come with me for a walk. If she agrees, then we can take him out and try to ask him decently about this whole mess."

Grenade, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed slightly. "I didn’t understand anything you just said, and your idea seems childish, but who cares?"

Before we could discuss further, we were interrupted by a stern-looking security guard as we approached the entrance to the opposite building.

"Where do you think you guys are going?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing at our group.

"Inside," Dordan said simply, trying to push past him.

"You are not allowed in there; you need verification of your rights to enter," the guard continued, arms crossed over his chest.

"Verification?" I echoed incredulously. What was this, some kind of movie?

"Yes, now take out your passports," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Passports for verification? What in the bloody—" Pablo started but trailed off as he caught the guard’s glare, which could have frozen fire.

We exchanged awkward glances with one another before retreating to our building, hastily searching for our passports among the chaos of our messy flat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we dug them out and dashed back to the guard, slightly out of breath.

He took a long look at the passports as though they held the secrets of the universe. "Your passport photos don’t match your faces."

Of course! How could anyone look human in those coin-sized prison photos? I bit back a sigh of frustration. "O-okay?" I tried to maintain my patience.

"You guys are not allowed to go in. Get away," the guard said, shooing us as if we were bothersome flies.

Defeated, we stood on the side of the road, glaring at him from a distance. The tension hung thick in the air like the humidity of a summer day, while the guard remained steadfast, refusing to budge.

Desperate for a plan B, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number belonging to the guy I had seen on the balcony. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hello? Who's this?" he asked, his voice sounding curious yet cautious.

I altered my voice just slightly to keep things under wraps. "I am your mother’s friend, son. Could you pass the phone to her?"

"Yeah sure! Mom!" His voice rang out, calling for her with a certain enthusiasm.

Moments later, his mother answered. "Yes? Who’s this?"