My apartment door clicked shut behind me, and for a moment, silence felt like peace.
I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag on the couch then froze.
There, on my bed.
A shimmering party dress. Black silk, sleeveless, beautiful.
Beside it a single white lily. My favorite flower.
My chest tightened. I picked up the note tucked under it.
Tonight. 7 Star Club.
-Yours, A.
My stomach flipped.
I told myself it was some sick prank. That maybe Mira was behind it.
Still, my fingers trembled.
I threw the dress aside, forcing a laugh that sounded too hollow.
"Nope. Not playing this game."
I changed into my bra and pantie, because who cared?
I lived alone.
The floor felt cold beneath my feet, grounding me as I poured water into the instant noodles cup.
Steam rose, filling the air with fake comfort.
Netflix played some crime drama in the background too ironic to be funny.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Same number.
You didn't like the dress?
You look damn hot in your undergarments. Without them… even better.
I froze mid-bite. The spoon slipped from my hand, clattering against the bowl.
My skin prickled. Every nerve screamed.
My eyes darted to the balcony. The window. The curtains.
Nothing.
"Okay… you're hallucinating,"
I whispered. But my voice was shaking.
Another buzz.
Don't try to search for me, my ruin. One word from you, and I'll be right in front of you.
I dropped the phone. It hit the floor with a thud.
My hands were cold. My chest hurt.
I grabbed a hoodie, throwing it over myself, as if that could protect me.
Checked every corner, Closet, Kitchen,Bathroom,Balcony.
Empty...
That stupid white lily.
Still on my bedside table, glowing under the lamplight like it belonged there.
I turned off my phone.
Enough.
Whoever he was, he wanted attention. I wasn't giving it.
I set my alarm clock, switched off the lights, and sank into bed.
But as I closed my eyes, the faint scent of the lily lingered sweet, familiar, almost comforting.
And that was the scariest part.
Because even though I threw the dress into the bin…
I couldn't throw away the flower.
Something dragged me out of sleep.
A sound soft, like a rustle on glass.
My eyes flew open. The digital clock glowed 2 : 43 a.m.
For a second, I thought it was the wind.
Then another sound light footsteps?
No… petals brushing?
My palms went slick. Still, I pushed the blanket aside and stepped toward the balcony.
The curtains swayed.
Beyond the glass door sat a bouquet-white lilies, perfect and fresh, dew still clinging to them.
A small card leaned against the vase.
You look beautiful when you sleep, my ruin.
- A
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Sleep? How would I sleep now?
I snatched my phone and typed fast.
Me: Mira, if this is your prank, stop it..! I'm serious...
No reply.
Minutes dragged.
The silence got heavier.
I turned on my desk lamp, trying to distract myself.
Opened my notes.
Started sketching diagrams for tomorrow's presentation. Pretend nothing happened. Pretend I wasn't shaking.
By dawn, I'd convinced myself it had to be a mistake..
maybe someone left the flowers at the wrong door.
I showered, dressed, tied my hair, forcing the world back into logic.
Whoever it was, the CCTV will catch him, I told myself. He'll regret it.
Downstairs, the morning guard looked half-asleep.
I explained, fast, words tripping over themselves. He nodded, rewound the footage.
Nothing.
No one.
Not a single frame of anyone bringing flowers to my balcony.
The monitor showed my hallway empty the entire night.
A chill ran through me.
Maybe stress. Maybe I was finally losing it.
"Maybe I should see a psychiatrist," I muttered.
Then my phone buzzed. Mira's name flashed.
Mira: Are you drunk already? What prank?
I stared at the screen, throat dry.
It wasn't her.
It was never her.
And that meant
whoever "A" was…
he really had been there.
Morning light made everything look almost normal again.
I grabbed coffee on the way to class, repeating in my head,
you're fine, Elina just focus.
In the lecture hall, the same noise, the same faces. Mira waved.
"You alive?" she whispered.
"Barely," I said, dropping into the seat beside her.
Professor Moran started pacing at the front, voice cutting through the room.
"Alright, tell me..blood supply of the visual cortex?"
I raised my hand before anyone else.
"Posterior cerebral artery, sir."
He nodded, half-smiling.
"Good. Seems you've recovered."
Relief flickered then my phone buzzed.
A new message from that same unknown number.
Proud of you.
My fingers went cold.
It wasn't supernatural.
Just someone who had my number and time to watch me.
During the next break I turned to Mira.
"I need to show you something."
I opened our chat, but the thread was clean. Every message from last night..gone.
Only our old memes and exam notes remained.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said quickly, locking the screen.
Maybe my phone glitched.
Or maybe I was losing it.
---
By afternoon I couldn't take the spinning thoughts.
After class I walked straight to the campus clinic.
The psychiatrist, Dr Leo, looked kind and a little too calm.
He listened while I talked about the sleepless nights, the strange texts, the break-up, the constant pressure to keep up in med school.
I skipped the part about the one-night stand.
He nodded, jotting notes.
"How regular is your period cycle?"
"What?"
"Just checking hormones. Stress and estrogen swings can amplify anxiety."
I sighed.
"So I'm not haunted, I'm hormonal?"
A faint smile.
"Extremely stressed, recently heart-broken, and yes, your cycle is due soon. That combination makes the brain see patterns where none exist."
He slid a small prescription pad toward me.
"Take these if you can't sleep. They'll calm you down. No social media after ten, and eat something that isn't instant noodles."
I left the clinic clutching the pills, half-relieved, half-ashamed.
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was all in my head.
The lilies, the messages, the missing chat...
just stress.
Still, when I reached my apartment door, I hesitated before touching the handle.
Because the air smelled faintly of white lilies again.