Aria barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, the whisper replayed in her mind, curling around her thoughts like smoke.
You'll understand soon. I'm only here to get you back.
She hadn't imagined it. She knew she hadn't.
By morning, her body moved on autopilot — brushing her teeth, fixing her hair, tugging her jacket on — but her mind was stuck in the dark silence outside her window. She avoided looking at it now, the blinds shut tight, as if the gap between them might stare back.
At school, things weren't much better. The chatter of classmates felt distant, muffled under the weight pressing on her chest. She caught Kael watching her more than once across the hall. His gaze wasn't threatening — it was warm, steady, almost too steady. Like he wanted her to believe he belonged there.
When she passed by, he gave her a smile that should've been harmless. Instead, it set her nerves on edge.
"You look tired," he said softly during lunch, when he slid onto the bench across from her without asking. "Bad dreams?"
Her fork stilled halfway to her mouth. She hadn't told anyone about last night. Not even her mom.
"I'm fine," she muttered, dropping the fork and pushing her tray away.
Kael tilted his head, studying her like he could read the thoughts she fought to hide. "You don't have to pretend around me, Aria. You never did."
The words struck her like a slap. She swallowed hard, refusing to ask what he meant. Refusing to give him the satisfaction.
By the time the final bell rang, her nerves were frayed raw. She hurried home, locking the door behind her, and sank onto the couch with her knees pulled tight to her chest. For hours, she tried to focus on homework, then music, then anything else — but her mind wouldn't let go of Kael's knowing smile… or the voice outside her window.
The house was quiet when night fell. Too quiet. Every creak in the walls made her heart jump. She left the TV on for background noise, but even that couldn't mask the sense of being watched.
Her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.
At first, she thought it was a friend. But the number flashing across the screen wasn't saved in her contacts. No name. Just an unknown string of digits.
Her pulse hammered as she opened the message.
> Stop pretending you don't feel it too. You're mine, Aria. Always were.
The phone slipped from her hands, landing on the carpet with a dull thud.
She stared at it, breath trapped in her lungs, while the room seemed to close in around her.
Someone out there wasn't just watching.
They knew her.
And they wanted her back.