MasukI wasn’t going to hide anymore. Not tonight. Not after the notes, the moved backpack, the shadows I couldn’t explain. Whoever had been creeping into my life… I needed answers. I stayed up late, apartment silent except for my own breath, and waited. Every creak of the floor, every faint rustle made my heart race. But I forced myself to stay calm, eyes scanning the room. Then I heard it—the softest movement near the window. My pulse spiked, but I didn’t panic. Instead, I stepped forward, voice low but firm. “Who’s there?” Silence. “Stop hiding. I know you’re here. I know what you’ve been doing!” My voice was stronger now, shaking slightly but filled with resolve. “If you want to scare me… fine. But I need answers!” A shadow shifted near the balcony door. My heart thudded in my ears. “You think this is a game?” I whispered, more to myself than them. “I’m not afraid anymore.” Then the figure stepped into the dim light. Still far enough away that I couldn’t make out the fac
After classes ended, I headed to the library to get some quiet time to study. The usual chatter of students had thinned, leaving the room eerily still. I tried to focus on my notes, but my eyes kept darting to the shadows in the corners, convinced I was being watched. I reached for my notebook, planning to jot down everything that had happened over the past few days. That’s when I noticed it: a pen. Sleek, black, and unfamiliar, lying across my desk. I knew every pen I owned. This wasn’t one of them. My hands shook as I picked it up. Beneath it was a small slip of paper. I unfolded it with trembling fingers: "You’re looking too hard. Don’t let them see you sweat." My stomach dropped. Someone had been here, in the library, while I wasn’t looking. My pulse raced, and my heart thudded so loudly I thought everyone could hear it. I glanced around, the rows of empty tables and towering bookshelves suddenly feeling suffocating. Every shadow seemed alive, every creak of the floorb
I couldn’t sleep. Not really. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw shadows stretching across my walls, crawling closer like they had a mind of their own. My phone buzzed once, twice, and I jumped as though someone had shoved me. But it was just… nothing. Just the endless stream of notifications that never seemed to stop. Still, I couldn’t shake it. Someone was here. I knew it. My apartment felt smaller, tighter, as if the walls themselves were leaning in to trap me. I triple-checked the locks, peeked through the blinds, and even checked the back alley for footprints. Nothing. No one. And yet… the feeling lingered. The prickling along my neck, the hair on my arms standing straight up, the sudden, inexplicable chill. My heart raced like a drum in a war march. I kept thinking about Aiden, about how he’d started pulling away, about how distant he’d become. Was he… worried for me? Or was he just giving me space? I didn’t want space. I wanted him here. I wanted him to tell me it was noth
(Elle’s POV) The second note wasn’t the last. By the end of the week, I had three more. All written in the same frantic scrawl, all slipped into places they had no business being—inside my locker, tucked into my class notebook, even one folded neatly and placed on the driver’s seat of my car. Each one different, but each with the same message: “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty.” “You belong with me.” “Soon you’ll see who truly cares.” At first, I tried to laugh it off. Told myself it was some cruel prank. But there was no laughter in the ink. Whoever was writing these… they believed every word. And then, the gifts started. A small velvet box with a silver charm bracelet. A book I’d mentioned once in passing, sitting wrapped on my desk. A cup of coffee, still warm, left on the bench where I usually sat after class. No names. No explanation. Just… knowing. Knowing me too well. I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to scream it. But every time I though
(Elle’s POV) The notes kept coming. Folded paper tucked into my locker, slipped under my books, pinned beneath the wiper of my bike. At first, I tried to laugh it off. Everyone said I had admirers—I told myself it was harmless. But this wasn’t flattery. This was someone peeling back layers of me I hadn’t shown to anyone. “You like to hum when you’re nervous. It’s cute.” “Stop biting your nails. I’ll hold your hands instead.” “Red suits you. Wear it again.” The last one made me throw the note into the trash so fast my fingers burned. Because that morning, I had been wearing my red scarf. And only someone watching closely—too closely—would know that. At night, the house no longer felt like home. The windows rattled louder, the shadows stretched longer. Every creak sounded like footsteps creeping closer. And the worst part? I couldn’t tell anyone. If I told Liam, he’d laugh it off, tell me I was being dramatic. If I told my parents, they’d only wor
(Elle’s POV) The note lay on the counter, mocking me in its crooked letters. My pulse hammered as I read it again, then again, like maybe the words would change if I stared long enough. They didn’t. But admitting what they meant? No. I wasn’t ready. With a shaky laugh, I crumpled the paper in my fist and shoved it deep into the trash. “Some stupid prank,” I whispered to the empty kitchen. “People have too much time.” Even as I said it, my hand wouldn’t stop trembling. The next morning, I acted like nothing happened. I plastered on my smile, teased Liam the way I always did, even let him copy off my notes because he’d been half-asleep in class again. And for a while, it worked. I almost believed it myself. Almost. Except every time my eyes wandered, I looked for Aiden. And when he wasn’t there, the ache grew heavier, sharper. He’d been slipping further away, his silence stretching between us like a canyon. And instead of chasing him like I probably should have,







