Riya forced herself to breathe normally. If he wanted her to think, then she would stop giving him the panic he expected. She would treat this studio like a site analysis, looking for the one structural flaw she had missed.
She turned around slowly, scanning the studio without moving her head too much this time. If he wasn't where she thought, then maybe she needed to stop thinking in straight lines. She had been looking for a stalker; now, she was looking for a pattern.
She looked at the front row. Leo's chair was still pushed back, his desk a mess of abandoned papers. He was gone, but the geometry of the room remained.
Who could have seen Leo's screen clearly from where they sat?
The front row could see the professor. The middle rows could see each other. But the back row had the widest view of the entire floor plan.
Her eyes drifted to the back of the room, past the familiar faces.
Three students sat there. One girl with headphones on. Two boys hunched over models. One of them briefly looked up. Their eyes met. He didn't look away immediately; he just held her gaze a second too long.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: Warmer.
Her stomach dropped. She didn't look down at the message right away. She kept staring at the boy in the back row. He blinked first and went back to his model. Her hands felt cold. Was that confirmation? Or was the Watcher just reading her gaze and reacting?
She looked down at her phone.
Unknown Number: But still wrong.
Her chest tightened. So he could see where she was looking. Which meant he had a clear view of her face. He was right here, somewhere in the field of her vision, hiding in plain sight.
Her head moved slightly to the left. Windows. Too bright, hard to see reflections. To the right: concrete wall and pin-up boards. Nothing obvious.
Unless he wasn't in her line of sight at all. Unless he was behind her.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: You're overthinking. I'm closer than that.
A sharp chill ran through her. Closer. How close? Her eyes dropped to the desk in front of her. Her own desk. Her sketchbook lay open. Her phone rested near the edge. Her bag hung from the side.
Could it be someone near her? Someone she hadn't even considered because they seemed too ordinary?
She turned slightly. The girl beside her, was focused on her drawing, earphones in, humming softly. She didn't even glance up. Behind her: two empty drafting tables. Behind those: the supply shelves.
Her heart pounded harder. Supply shelves. Anyone grabbing materials could stand there unnoticed.
She stood abruptly and walked toward the shelves, pretending to look for tracing paper. Her phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number: Careful. People will notice.
She didn't stop walking. When she reached the shelves, she ran her eyes across the studio from that angle. From here, she could see almost everyone's screens. And almost everyone could see hers.
Her breath caught. That was it. It wasn't about hiding. It was about blending. Anyone who could casually look up from their work and see her reactions would have the advantage.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: You look better when you're confused.
Her jaw clenched. This wasn't just surveillance. It was commentary. He wasn't just watching events; he was watching her.
She grabbed a random roll of tracing paper and turned around. As she did, she saw it. Second row. Not the grey hoodie. The boy beside him.
She didn't even know his name. He had been quiet all semester. Always present. Always on time. Never involved in anything. Right now, his phone was on the desk, face down. But his eyes weren't on his drawing. They were on her. Not openly, just a slight, measured look. Like he was studying how she moved.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Don't stare too long.
Her stomach twisted. Slowly, she shifted her gaze away and walked back toward her seat. She sat down carefully. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure someone could hear it.
She opened her sketchbook again. Blank lines stared back at her. Her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: You want proof?
Her breath stopped. She didn't reply.
Unknown Number: Check your bag.
Her hands froze. She had just searched this bag for her keys. She knew exactly what was inside. She reached down slowly and pulled the bag onto her lap. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the zipper back. Laptop. Charger. Pencil case. Everything was exactly where she had left it.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Small pocket.
Her chest tightened. There was a tiny inner pocket, hidden against the lining, that she rarely used. She slid her fingers inside. Her skin brushed against something thin.
Paper.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She pulled it out. A small folded piece of tracing paper. Her vision blurred at the edges. She unfolded it carefully under the desk. Three words were written in clean, sharp handwriting.
I am here.
Her throat closed. This wasn't a text. This was physical. Someone had touched her bag. Someone inside this room.
Her phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number: Now you believe me.
Her hands went ice cold. He was close enough to slip something into her bag without her noticing. Close enough to watch her open it. Driven by a sudden, jagged instinct to flee, Riya pushed her chair back. Her legs straightened, her body rising halfway toward the exit before her mind could even process the move.
But suddenly, her eyes lifted. Every face in the studio looked the same as before. Focused. Calm. Unaware. Except one.
Second row. The quiet boy beside the grey hoodie. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking down at his phone now. And for a split second, his lips curved. Not a smile. Just the smallest shift.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Sit down, Riya. Class isn't over yet.
The command hit her like a physical blow. She froze, suspended between standing and sitting. Her eyes darted to the front of the room. Professor Miller's head was down as he scribbled a critique on a student's drafting board. He hadn't seen her sudden movement.
But the Watcher had.
Slowly, she lowered herself back down, her knees feeling like lead.
Professor Miller's voice carried from the front without him even looking up. "You have thirty minutes left. Finalize your concepts."
Thirty minutes.
Thirty more minutes in the same room as him.
Riya stared down at her sketchbook, but the lines on the page meant nothing anymore. Her mind kept circling the same thought.
He was here.
Somewhere in this studio, someone was watching every move she made.
Her phone vibrated softly in her hand.
Unknown Number: Relax.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Unknown Number: You still have time.
Her chest felt tight. Time for what?
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: To hunt me.
Riya slowly lifted her eyes and looked across the studio.
Thirty minutes suddenly felt like a very long time.