I woke up to silence the next morning. Not just quiet, but that heavy kind of quiet that gets under your skin. Like a secret you can't shake off. Daniel was gone already. Again, not even a note. No sorry I'm a jerk or anything. Just… gone. Real loud and clear.
I stared at the ceiling, letting everything from last night hit me all at once. The weird texts, the dude in the coffee shop, and that I'm watching you message stuck in my head. My phone was right there, looking like trouble. I didn't block the number, but I didn't answer either. Did that make me part of the problem? Like I was leaving the door open, even if I wasn't walking through it yet.
I finally got up, feeling tight as a drum. The mirror showed some lady I barely knew. Messy hair, tired eyes, and a mouth that wasn't even trying to smile. But something was cooking inside. Not just sad, not giving up. More like a slow burn. I was changing big time, and I knew there was no going back.
I spent the day trying to get away from my thoughts. Did dishes, vacuumed, and scrubbed the floors like crazy, hoping they'd give me some answers if I did it right. But the same thoughts just kept coming back.
Was that stranger watching me right now? Every little creak, every shadow made me jump. I kept telling myself I was just being paranoid. But deep down, I knew better.
He was close.
When the doorbell rang, I jumped so hard I almost dropped my wine.
Outside: just a plain white envelope. No name, no address. I opened it, hands shaking. Inside was a photo. Me, yesterday, sitting at the coffee shop. The shot was from outside, through the window—like he was right there, watching me. I was holding onto my coffee for dear life. And I looked haunted.
On the back was written in nice, smooth ink: Even when you're hurting, you're beautiful.
I couldn't breathe for a sec. My knees got weak. Part of me wanted to scream. The other part wanted more.
I didn't show the envelope to anybody, not even my shrink. What was I gonna say? Some guy I don't know is stalking me, and I was kinda into it? Nope. I folded the picture real careful and hid it in the back of my journal, between all the sappy love poems I haven't read in forever.
That night, I lit candles—not for Daniel. This was for me. I filled the tub with hot water and all those bath oils I save for "special" nights. I got in slow, letting the heat relax me. The candlelight flickered above me, and I just lay there, as bare as could be, wondering what it feels like to be really seen.
My phone buzzed.
He doesn't see the way your eyes glow in candlelight. But I do.
I shouldn't have smiled. But I did. Because for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like I was invisible. I felt wanted.
Daniel showed up the next morning, this time with flowers. Roses. Red ones, of course. Like the color could cover up the fact that we're done.
"I thought we could maybe go to dinner," he said, smooth as could be.
I stared at the flowers. Pretty but dead—just like our marriage.
"What made you change your mind?" I asked, no emotion.
He just shrugged. "You've been acting differently lately. I noticed. I thought I should spend some time with you."
Now he notices? Seriously? I wanted to laugh, scream, or shove those stupid roses down his throat. But I didn't. I just smiled. Soft, sweet, and fake.
"Dinner sounds nice."
Let him think I'm still his. Let him imagine flowers can fix us. Because there's nothing scarier than a woman who's done pretending.
Dinner was at this fancy place on a rooftop with a view of the whole city, and a menu full of stuff I couldn't even say. Daniel talked about work, chuckled at junk on his phone. Sipped his wine, looking like he was in a commercial. I just watched him, wondering how many women have sat across from him, thinking he's so great—not knowing they're just placeholders.
Halfway through, I said I needed to use the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, touched up my lipstick, and stared into my own eyes. Empty, tired, and glowing with a fire I hadn't seen in a long time.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You deserve more than cold dinners and fake smiles.
No name, but I knew who it was. And even worse—I agreed.
We left the restaurant without saying a word. Daniel didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't even notice. Or maybe being clueless was better for him.
In the car, he grabbed my hand, and I let him. Just for a sec. His fingers were warm. Normal. But they didn't do anything for me.
When we got home, he went straight to his office. I went upstairs and ripped off that dress. I stood in the closet. Naked. Real. Alive.
The phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: I dream of touching you like you're sacred. Not like you're mine.
I gasped. Heat rushed through me. I felt ashamed—but it was too late. I didn't delete the message. I saved it.
The little ding of the bookstore door almost made me feel good. I walked around, not even looking at the books—just touching them. My mind wasn't on stories. It was on him.
Who is this guy? Why does everything he writes mess with my head?
The phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Do you want a love that lights you up or the kind that burns you to nothing?
My knees almost gave out. I stared at the message, trying to catch my breath.
Me: Who are you?
Three dots popped up. Then… nothing.
Daniel was on the couch when I walked in, scotch in his hand, eyes glued to the TV. Didn't even look up. Didn't even say hi.
"Hey," I said quietly.
"Mmh," he mumbled. That was it. Didn't ask where I'd been. Didn't even see the heels, the makeup, the fact that I was starvin' for somethin'.
I stood there for a sec, waiting for him to notice. But he didn't.
So I went upstairs, each step louder than the quiet between us. I fell on the bed, still holding my phone like it was the only thing keeping me here.
Then, the buzz.
Unknown Number: He doesn't see you. But I do. Every breath, every little look—I'd remember it all if you let me.
I gasped.
Me: Why are you watching me?
Unknown Number: Because you don't know how beautiful you are when you think nobody's looking.
I felt it in my gut. God. What is happening to me?
I pulled the blanket around me, hardly breathing. The room was cold, but I was burning up. I stared at the message.
Unknown Number: I want to know everything about you. Even the stuff you don't show people.
Something broke inside me. Not because I was scared. But because I wanted it.
Me: Why me?
Unknown Number: Because even when you don't say anything, you're louder than most people. And I'd do anything to hear you say my name.
I made a weird sound—part gasp, part sob. I bit my lip hard and squeezed my legs together. This was wrong. Messed up. But my body didn't care.
Because for the first time in forever, I felt like I mattered.
Not just owned.
Not pushed aside.
Desired.
The hallway was dim and silent, but the air felt heavy—like I wasn't alone.
I walked past the guest room. The door was cracked open a little. I saw a flicker of light—warm, soft, like a candle. My heart started pounding.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You look amazing when you can't stand still.
I stopped. The light in the room moved. A shadow. Someone was awake—and was watching.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
Was it him?
Caleb?
The way he looked at me at the coffee shop. The way he said my name last night.
No. No way.
I took a step back, pulse racing, arms shaking.
The door opened a tiny bit more—but I couldn't make myself look. I got back to my room fast, then closed my door, like if I made too much noise everything would fall apart.
The air felt weird. Still. Electric.
Another text.
Unknown Number: You're not alone tonight, Sophia. Not really. And you won't get any sleep until I say you can.
I turned around fast, looking at the door.
Footsteps. Slow ones.
Then a soft knock. Quiet on purpose. Twice.
My heart was going crazy.
"Sophia…" His voice was deep. Kind of rough. Definitely Caleb. He was right outside my door. Not guessing. He knew.
And my body didn't move.
It kind of went toward him. Toward danger. Toward the one thing I sh
ouldn't want.
His shadow was on the floor, under the door.
"I couldn't sleep," he whispered.
Then it was quiet.
I moved closer and whispered back:
"Me neither."