The nurse bought food for the homeless man every evening, but one day the old man suddenly grabbed her hand and said, “Girl, you’ve fed me so many times, so please don’t go home the usual way today. I’ll explain everything tomorrow morning…” The next morning, the girl learned something terrible from the old man.

Amanda closed the service door behind her and leaned against the cold concrete wall for a moment. After a twelve-hour shift, her legs ached terribly. It was around eight in the evening. Darkness was already enveloping the grounds of the regional hospital.

Amanda instinctively felt the keys to her rented apartment in her pocket and walked to the side gate, trying not to think about anything.

Three months ago, those keys had become the only thing she had taken from her former life. Everything else—furniture, dishes, even photographs—had been left to her ex-husband.

Now she had a small one-room apartment on the outskirts, creaking radiators, and the smell of cabbage emanating from the apartment next door. Her nurse’s salary barely covered her, but she felt no regrets.

He was sitting by the fence, as always. An elderly homeless man with a gray beard and tired, watchful eyes, covered in an old padded jacket.

He had arrived here at the end of August and had become a part of her evening routine ever since. Every day, Amanda bought him dinner and hot tea.

They exchanged a few words, the man thanked her quietly and sincerely, and this strangely made her loneliness less profound.

That evening, her shift was especially difficult. Amanda went into the hospital cafeteria, got food and tea, and went out to the gate. The old man was waiting, but today he was different. His shoulders were tense, and his gaze kept sliding somewhere behind her, into the darkness of the street.

She held out the bag, but the man suddenly set it aside and grabbed her hand, unexpectedly tightly. Amanda flinched and was about to pull her hand away, but she heard his voice—quiet, muffled, completely unlike her usual one.

“Girl, you’ve fed me so many times,” he said, not letting go of her. “Let me repay you. Don’t take the usual route home today. Take the detour through downtown. Right now. And tomorrow morning, I’ll explain everything.”

Amanda’s heart pounded. She looked at him in confusion, unsure if he was joking or insane. But there was no madness or pleading in his eyes. There was fear. Amanda didn’t argue. She nodded silently, turned, and walked away quickly, feeling a clenching of dread inside her.

That evening, she really did take a different route, meandering through the illuminated streets for a long time. And the next day, the old man told her the terrible truth

“Why?” she whispered the next day.

The old man looked around and spoke even more quietly.

“Because you’re being followed. Not for the first day. I saw them myself. Three of them. They were standing over there,” he nodded toward the dark alley, “and they thought I was sleeping. Your husband said you lived alone, that you came home late, and that it was dark outside anyway. They were discussing how to make sure your body wasn’t found right away. The apartment is in your name, and he needs it.”

Amanda felt a chill rise from her fingertips to her throat. She remembered the last few weeks: strange shadows behind her, the sensation of someone else’s gaze, the quickening of her steps when someone had been following her for too long.

“I overheard it all by accident,” the man continued. “They thought I was just some old trash. But I remembered every word.”

He finally let go of her hand and added, almost in a whisper:

“They were waiting for you there,” the old man said. “Until nightfall. And then they left. You did the right thing by listening.”