․․․The truth turned out to be more terrifying than any suspicion.

The man was not a criminal and had no evil intentions. He turned out to be a grandfather who had been erased from his own family’s life many years ago.

After a bitter divorce, he was forbidden to see his grandson; addresses and phone numbers were changed, and they disappeared without explanation. The only thing he knew for certain was that the boy was supposed to attend this very school.

Every morning he came here not out of curiosity, but out of desperation. He didn’t wait for a specific child because he was afraid of being wrong.

He studied the way they walked, their gestures, the tilt of their heads. Sometimes he thought he recognized a familiar smile, but a second later the hope fell apart.

He didn’t dare approach, because he understood that a single wrong word could destroy everything.

The police found no threat in his actions. The school administration allowed him to sometimes sit on the bench by the entrance. He began to come less often, but never stopped completely.

Because for him, this place was the last thread connecting him to his grandson. And he believed that one day the boy would look at him himself and feel something familiar.