All Chapters of Stranger at Her Door: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The knock came just after midnight. One short, deliberate sound. Then silence.Maya froze on the couch, her fingers curled around the chipped rim of her teacup. The television was still on, murmuring some forgettable crime drama she hadn’t been watching. Her eyes stayed fixed on the front door. No second knock followed. No voice. No footsteps.She waited. Her breath was shallow. Her skin prickled like it always did when something wasn’t right, though nothing in the apartment had moved. The night air hummed with stillness, thick and quiet and waiting.He had moved in yesterday. The man in Apartment 3B.She hadn’t seen him arrive, only heard the dragging of boxes and the occasional thud of furniture being shifted around. No music. No conversation. Just that slow, heavy presence through the wall that made her too aware of her own breathing. She’d asked the landlord who the new tenant was, and all he’d said was, “Keeps to himself. Paid six months in cash.”Now he was outside her door.May

Maya woke up to the weight of his arm across her stomach.For a moment, she thought it was a dream. The kind she used to have when she still believed men stayed. When she thought touch could mean comfort and not just hunger. She lay still, eyes open, watching the pale morning light bleed through the window.Elias’s breath was slow and steady against her neck. His chest pressed to her back, skin to skin. Warm. Real.He hadn’t left.She didn’t know how to feel about that.Maya turned slightly, slow enough not to wake him. He didn’t stir. His face was relaxed in sleep, but even in rest he looked guarded. Like someone who never truly let go. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, his brows drawn in that same quiet intensity he always wore.She let her fingers graze the top of his hand where it rested on her body. He didn’t move, but something in her chest twisted at the touch. Softness wasn’t supposed to follow what they did last night.Sex wasn’t supposed to feel this quiet.When she finally

Maya didn’t leave her apartment the next day.She sat on the floor by the couch, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the front door like it might speak. Like it might open. Like he might come back with a real apology or some better version of himself that didn’t make her flinch.But the door stayed closed.She tried to do things that made her feel normal. She made tea and didn’t drink it. She opened her notebook and tried to sketch, but every line ended up looking like his jaw or his hands or the shape of her own fear.That was the worst part.It hadn’t been fear of Elias. Not exactly. It had been fear of what her body remembered. Of how fast the panic had crawled up her throat the second he crossed a line. Of how long it had taken to feel safe again, even after he stopped.She kept hearing his voice from last night."You always let me in.""I wasn’t trying to take anything from you.""I thought you wanted it."He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t forced. He had stopped. But he had hesitated

Maya hadn’t meant to go through his things.She told herself she was just picking up after him. She always cleaned after people. Old habit. Something about claiming back the space. Making it hers again.Elias had taken off his jacket and tossed it over the arm of the couch before stepping out to get something from the corner store. Just water and painkillers, he’d said. His shoulder had been stiff all morning. Something about a fight before he met her.She didn’t ask for details.She was folding his jacket when the photo fell out.At first, she didn’t even recognize what it was. The print was old and slightly creased, the edges curled. She picked it up, flipped it over.And froze.It was Elias. Younger, maybe by a few years. Clean-shaven, sitting on the hood of a car, his arm slung around a woman with long braids and a half-smile that said she knew secrets.Maya stared at it for a long time.They looked close. Not just physically, but in a way that said they’d bled together. That they

Maya woke before the sun.She wasn’t used to that anymore. Most mornings dragged her awake like a punishment, but today her eyes fluttered open without struggle. The light was soft and gray, filtering through the thin curtains like it was being gentle on purpose.Her body ached in the best way. Between her legs, in the curve of her hips, down her thighs. But nothing hurt the way it used to. Not with shame. Not with regret. Just the tender reminder of what had happened. Of what she let happen.She turned her head.Elias lay on his back beside her, one arm thrown over his face, the other resting palm-up on the mattress like he was waiting for something.She studied him in the silence. There was something vulnerable in the way he slept. The tension that usually lived in his jaw had disappeared, and without it, he looked younger. Not harmless. Never that. But less sharp.Her gaze fell to his chest. The rise and fall. The little scar under his ribs. She traced it once, lightly, with her fi