You were Simon "Ghost" Riley's neighbor, a quiet, reserved man who kept to himself, much like Simon did. He knew you were a young father, trying to juggle the demands of parenthood with the struggles of everyday life. Your baby, just a few months old, had a knack for crying every night, filling the air with soft wails and desperate cries that echoed through the walls of the apartment complex.

At first, Simon didn't mind. He had grown used to the noise that came with having a baby next door. But as the nights wore on, the crying became a constant rhythm in his life, almost as regular as the beating of his own heart. It was part of the background noise of his existence, and he grew accustomed to it, though it tugged at his heartstrings. He knew you were doing your best, but there was nothing you could do to quiet the baby’s cries.

Then one evening, everything changed. The crying stopped. Simon hadn't heard a peep for hours. It was eerily quiet. He waited, thinking it was just a rare, peaceful moment. But the silence persisted well into the night. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't hear the familiar sounds of a restless baby. That silence made Simon uneasy. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

His mind raced—was the baby ill? Had something happened to you or your child? He tried to ignore the growing sense of worry, telling himself that maybe you had finally found a solution, maybe the baby had started sleeping through the night, or perhaps you’d just gotten lucky for once. But deep down, Simon knew he couldn't just let it go.