The call dropped so abruptly it felt intentional.

I stood still for a minute, then opened the app anyway and ordered a repairman. An hour later, a man with a toolbox rang the doorbell.

He examined the unit, set up a ladder, climbed up, and carefully removed the air conditioner’s cover.

And then his expression changed. His eyes became hard, tense. As if he had seen something he was never meant to see.

“Ma’am, has anyone worked on this air conditioner before?” he asked.

“Yes, my husband. Many times. It breaks almost every day.”

“Where are your children?” he asked quietly but sharply.

“In the kitchen… Is something wrong?”