The apartment felt too still.
Not silent — just… waiting.Like walls could hold their breath.
I dropped my bag onto the couch and stood there for a long moment, listening. The rain outside softened into a steady patter, tapping against the windows like fingertips tracing a pattern I couldn't read.
I shouldn't have texted him.Are you here?
I shouldn't have written that.
But part of me needed to know whether the presence I felt outside was real, or just my mind trying to make sense of the day.
I slipped off my shoes, set them by the door, and turned on a single lamp. Warm light pooled across the room, brushing over the furniture in soft shapes. Normally it made me feel safe.
Tonight it didn't.
Not unsafe — just observed.
I walked to the window and peeked through the blinds.
Nothing.
The parking lot glistened with rain, reflecting the dim streetlights. A few cars. Empty sidewalk. The sedan was gone. No one stood under the awning. No shadows moved behind the dumpsters.
Nothing.
And yet…I still felt that gentle pull, like someone's attention hovered just outside the edges of sight.
I let the blinds fall closed.
A knock on my door.
It came softly.A single, light tap — so quiet it could've been the rain.
My breath caught.
I turned slowly toward the door.
No one ever came to see me unannounced. Not neighbours, not coworkers, not friends. No one.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Unknown Number:Don't open it.
A chill washed down my spine.
I stared at the door, pulse thundering in my ears.
Another knock.Slightly louder this time.
My phone buzzed again.
I said don't.
The words were calm, but underneath them was something sharper — not anger, but certainty. Confidence. Control. The feeling of someone who knew exactly what was happening on the other side of my door even though he wasn't—
No.I couldn't assume that.
Could I?
The knock came a third time.Three soft taps. Not threatening — almost polite.
I stepped closer, heart pounding.
"Hello?" I called, my voice unsteady.
No answer.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
I checked the peephole.
Nothing.Absolutely nothing.
Just the hallway.Empty.Still.
But I had definitely heard the knocks. I wasn't imagining them.
I swallowed hard and backed away from the door.
My phone buzzed a third time.
Good.
Time stretched.
Five minutes passed.Then ten.
No more knocks.No voices.No footsteps.
Just the soft hum of the refrigerator and the whisper of the rain.
My heart slowly began to settle, though a knot still sat tight under my ribs.
I sat on the couch, hugging a pillow and staring at the ceiling. Every shadow looked sharper tonight. Every creak in the building sounded like a signal, not a coincidence.
Finally, I typed:
Me:How did you know someone was at my door?
The typing dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Then reappeared.
As if he were deciding how much to reveal.
Finally:
Unknown Number:Because I pay attention.
I stared at the words, unsure if they were meant to comfort or unsettle.
Another message arrived before I could reply:
And because you shouldn't answer the door for anyone this late.Not when I haven't told you it's safe.
The breath left my lungs in a shaky exhale.
This wasn't about danger.This was about control.Quiet, thoughtful, calculated control.
And somehow, impossibly, I wasn't sure if I hated it or needed it.
Before I could think too hard about that, another message arrived:
Check your lock.
I stood slowly and walked to the door.
My hand hovered over the deadbolt.
It was locked.
I typed back:
Me:It's locked.
His reply came instantly.
Good girl.
The words hit me like a sudden rush of cold and heat, the kind that makes your stomach flutter for reasons you don't understand.
I backed away from the door again.
Then, one last message:
Get some sleep.I'll make sure the rest of the night stays quiet.
I didn't ask how.Or what that meant.Or whether he was nearby.
I just stood there in my dim apartment, rain whispering at the windows, feeling the strange, impossible truth:
He wasn't here.
But his presence filled the room anyway.