The light from the screen was a cold, blue blade in the darkness. Riya stared at the three words until they felt burned into her eyes.
Are you awake?
Riya didn't breathe. For a moment, she simply stared at the screen. Her heart pounding so loudly she was certain it must be audible in the empty apartment. Her fingers felt numb, but her mind was painfully awake.
The message came at the exact same minute as the night before.
She tried to force her mind to find a logical explanation. Maybe it was a bot. An automated prank. Someone is just messing with her. It had to be a coincidence. It couldn't be a pattern. Not yet. It was only the second night.
But as she stared at the glowing text, the "coincidence" felt heavy and deliberate. It felt like a hand resting on her shoulder in an empty room.
She didn't answer right away. She couldn't. She looked at the door. She looked at the window. The curtains were still heavy. He was out there. Somewhere in the vast, sleeping grid of Chicago, he was holding a phone, thinking of her.
She felt a strange, terrifying warmth at the thought. It was the first time in a year that she hadn't felt like a ghost in her own apartment. Someone was reaching through the void.
Her fingers trembled as she touched the phone screen. She typed a single word.
Riya: Yes.
The response was so fast it felt like he had been waiting for her to breathe.
Unknown Number: I know.
Her stomach dropped. A cold sensation spread through her arms. She stared at the two words, trying to slow her breathing. It could mean anything.
Riya:How?
The phone remained still for long seconds. Then, another vibration.
Unknown Number: I can tell.
Riya: Tell from what?
This time the pause lasted longer. The seconds stretched. Then,
Unknown Number: Your room feels different when you're asleep.
The air left her lungs. Riya sat up slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows of her apartment. The desk. The chair. The curtain moving faintly with the wind from the slightly open window vent. Everything looked the same. Normal. Still.
Riya:What does that mean?
Her hands were shaking now.
Unknown Number:You're thinking too much tonight.
That wasn't an answer. Her pulse quickened.
Riya:"Did you see me today?"
No reply. The silence stretched so long she began to regret asking.
Unknown Number: I saw you fix the corner.
Her vision blurred for a second. The drafting sheet. The left corner. The improvement her professor had noticed. Her mind replayed the morning. The bus stop. The classroom. The submission table. Faces. So many faces. Strangers. All strangers
Riya: Where?
No response. She stared at the screen, waiting.
Unknown Number:One day, I'll tell you.
Her heart skipped, a sharp, jagged tension pulled tight in her chest that felt like a warning. She was terrified, yes, but beneath the panic sat a tiny, traitorous spark of excitement. It was the thrill of finally being the center of someone's universe. She hated it. She hated how easily a few glowing words were slowly tearing down the walls she had built around herself.
Then, before she could stop herself, her fingers moved across the screen.
Riya: Why me?
The answer came slower this time.
Unknown Number:Because you look like you're about to disappear.
The words flickered on the screen, sharp and intrusive. Riya stopped breathing.
Her fingers went numb against the glass. The sentence felt like a hand reaching through the dark and pressing against her chest.
The words didn't just land; they punctured something raw and hidden. He wasn't talking about her sketches or the way she faded into the back of a lecture hall. He was talking about her. The way she was slowly carving herself out of the world. Her throat tightened, a dry, hot ache rising as she realized he hadn't just been watching her—he had been watching her vanish.
Riya: I'm not.
She typed it, though she wasn't sure if it was true. A brief silence followed.
Unknown Number:I won't let you.
Her heart skipped. The sentence should have sounded comforting, but instead, it sounded like a promise. And promises from unseen people felt dangerous. Riya swung her legs off the bed and stood up abruptly. She walked toward the window and pulled the curtain aside just an inch.
The street below was dim. An empty road. No visible figures. She closed the curtain quickly.
Riya: Are you near my building?
No answer.
Riya:Are you inside it?
Her heart nearly stopped.
Unknown Number:Sleep, Riya.
Her name.
She hadn't given him her name. The phone slipped slightly in her grip. Every muscle in her body went rigid.The realization hit her then, heavier than any physical fear. He hadn't just found her last night.
Riya:How do you know my name?
The reply came slowly.
Unknown Number:I told you. I'm here.
The room felt suffocating now. Not because she believed he was standing outside her door, but because she couldn't prove he wasn't. Her mind raced through possibilities. College records. Attendance sheets. Overheard conversations. Someone watching her quietly. Someone close.
Riya:Where?
The screen remained still. No answer. Minutes passed. Her breathing gradually slowed, but her heart did not. Finally, another vibration.
Unknown Number:One day you'll look at me and realize I was never hiding.
The words hit her with a violent clarity. Never hiding. Her chest tightened, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thin to breathe. He wasn't a shadow in a dark alley or a figure in the distance. He was right there. He was close. Her mind flashed through every face she had seen that day. The boy who held the elevator. The student in the second row. The quiet one near the window. The man at the street corner.
Her phone remained in her hand, but no more messages came. The silence returned heavier now. Riya stood in the middle of her dark room, feeling something shift inside her. This wasn't just late-night comfort anymore. This was a puzzle, and she was inside it.
Slowly, she locked the phone. Then she walked to the door and checked it again. Twice. When she finally returned to her bed, she didn't turn off the lamp. She was too afraid of the total darkness. She lay on her side, staring at the ceiling, the phone pressed against her chest as if it might reveal answers if she held it close enough.
2:43 AM.
He had said he was here. The question was no longer whether he was watching. The real question was how long he had been there.