The house was silent, but from the kitchen came a faint female whisper, as if someone were crying. She listened — the sound stopped. She thought she imagined it.

A few minutes later — again, crying, a rustle, then a man’s voice, barely audible. My mother-in-law shot up in bed, her heart pounding.

“Who’s there?!” she shouted.

No answer. Only a faint tap on the wall, then silence again.

By morning, she hadn’t slept a wink.

“Didn’t you hear someone talking last night?” she asked me in the morning, her eyes wide with fear.

I smiled innocently:
“No, Mom, I was up all night reading, but I didn’t hear any voices. Maybe you were dreaming?”

The next night, it happened again. Whispers, knocks, a baby’s soft cry.

My mother-in-law began crossing herself and murmuring prayers. She thought her late husband had come for her.

By morning, trembling, she came to me.

“I can’t take it anymore. There’s something going on in this house…”

I looked at her calmly and said softly:
“Maybe God is punishing you. Maybe you should try being a little kinder to others.”

From that day on, she changed. She stopped yelling, stopped scolding, stopped waking me up in the mornings. On the contrary — she brought me tea and asked how I was feeling. And at night, the house was perfectly quiet. The voices had vanished… because I had turned off the speaker.