The footsteps stopped.
For a moment, everything in the apartment was frozen—my pounding heart, the shallow breaths, the heavy silence.
Jayden reached for the lamp switch and clicked it on. The warm light spilled across the room, chasing away the shadows.
But the shadows in my mind weren't so easy to shake.
"Did you hear that?" I whispered, clutching his hand tighter.
He nodded, eyes sharp now, scanning the room. "Someone's here. But I don't see anyone."
I swallowed hard. Every nerve was screaming. Was I imagining things? Or was someone really watching me?
Before I could speak, the phone vibrated again. Another message.
"Some wounds aren't meant to heal—only to remind."
My breath hitched. A chill ran down my spine, and I pulled back, staring at Jayden. "This isn't random. Someone knows me. Knows you."
He frowned, his jaw tightening. "I thought I'd put all this behind me."
"Clearly, you haven't," I said, voice trembling but firm.
The apartment suddenly felt too small—too vulnerable.
Jayden stood and moved toward the window, pulling the curtain aside. The city lights stretched out beneath us like a sea of stars, indifferent and cold.
"We need to find out who's sending these," he said, voice low.
I nodded, but deep inside, my old fears stirred—the fear of being trapped, of being watched, of history repeating itself.
---
I tried to focus, to push the panic down, but memories flooded back—my mother's whispered warnings, the way she never let anyone inside her pain.
Never trust easily, Amara.
Those words had been my armor for years. But now, they felt like chains.
Jayden turned back to me, eyes softer but still shadowed. "You don't have to face this alone."
I wanted to believe him. I needed to.
But part of me was already retreating, afraid to be pulled back into the darkness I'd fought so hard to escape.
---
The phone buzzed again.
This time, I didn't look.
"Not now," I said quietly.
Jayden nodded, but his phone rang—an unknown number.
He answered, voice tense. "Who is this?"
Silence.
Then a breathy whisper: "You don't know what you're dealing with."
The line went dead.
Jayden slammed the phone down, anger flaring.
"This is bigger than I thought," he muttered.
I reached out and touched his arm. "We face it together. Promise me."
He looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, I saw something fragile—hope.
---
That night, I lay awake, thoughts swirling like a storm.
Who was watching us? What past was Jayden hiding? And could I survive the truth when it finally came?
---
Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, silence wrapped around me like a cloak.
And in the shadows, something waited.
Watching.
Waiting.
I lay in the dark, the weight of Jayden's phone call pressing on me like a stone in my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, the whispered warning echoed through my mind: "You don't know what you're dealing with."
What did that even mean? What secret had Jayden been burying all this time?
The apartment felt suffocating, every creak and groan amplified in the silence. I tried to steady my breathing, but my heart was still racing, trapped in a battle between fear and the hope Jayden had offered.
Suddenly, my phone lit up again.
I stared at the screen, unable to look away.
"You can run, but the past always catches up."
I swallowed hard and tucked the phone beneath my pillow, as if hiding it might keep the threat at bay.
---
Morning came too fast.
Jayden was already up, standing by the kitchen counter, staring out the window with a grim expression.
I poured us both coffee, the bitter smell filling the quiet room.
"We need to figure out who's behind those messages," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I've been avoiding it, but it's time. I'm going to check with some people. See if anyone's seen or heard anything unusual."
I wanted to reach out, to tell him it was okay to be scared. But instead, I swallowed my worries and nodded.
"We're in this together," I said.
Jayden looked at me, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.
---
The day dragged on with an uneasy tension hanging over us. Every phone buzz or knock on the door made my stomach twist.
In the afternoon, I found myself staring at a photo on the mantel—a picture of Jayden with a man I didn't recognize. They looked serious, almost… tense.
"Who's that?" I asked quietly.
Jayden glanced over. "An old friend. Or maybe something else."
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.
---
Later, as evening fell, I sat on the couch scrolling through my phone when the lights flickered.
A cold draft swept the room, and my skin prickled.
Then, the power went out.
Darkness swallowed us whole.
I heard Jayden moving quickly, lighting candles, his voice calm but urgent.
"Stay close," he said.
But even as I reached for his hand, a sudden noise—a soft but distinct click—echoed from the hallway outside our door.
My breath caught.
Someone was trying to get in.
The click echoed again, louder this time, making my heart slam against my ribs. Jayden was already moving toward the door, his body tense like a coiled spring.
"Stay behind me," he whispered.
I nodded, barely able to breathe. The candles flickered, casting long, trembling shadows across the walls.
Jayden reached the door and pressed his ear against it. I could hear his breath—steady, controlled—but I knew he was on edge.
The handle turned slowly.
My chest tightened.
But then—the door didn't open.
Instead, a voice whispered through the crack.
"Jayden. Amara. You can't hide forever."
The voice was low, familiar but distorted, like it was coming from a place coated in anger and regret.
Jayden's fist hit the door hard. "Who are you? Show yourself!"
Silence.
Then footsteps retreated down the hall.
The lock clicked shut again.
Jayden exhaled sharply, running his hands through his hair.
"I'll call security," he said, but his voice was shaky.
I sat down heavily on the couch, hands trembling. All the walls I had built inside me—the confidence, the courage—felt like they were crumbling.
I wasn't safe.
Not here.
Not with him.
---
I glanced at Jayden. His usual armor of control was cracked, and for a moment, vulnerability shone through.
"Why did they come?" I asked softly.
Jayden shook his head. "Because the past doesn't want to be buried."
And suddenly, I understood that this wasn't just about us.
It was about everything he'd been running from.
And I was right in the middle of it.
Jayden sank onto the edge of the couch, rubbing his face with both hands as if trying to squeeze the tension out of his skull. The dim candlelight flickered, casting a fragile glow over his weary features. I sat beside him, the silence between us heavy and thick.
"I never told you everything," he said finally, voice low and rough. "There are parts of my past that I thought I could leave behind, but they've followed me here."
I reached out, placing my hand over his. "You don't have to carry it alone anymore."
He looked at me, eyes dark but filled with a flicker of something—hope? Maybe even trust.
But before either of us could say more, my phone buzzed again on the coffee table.
I stared at it, dread tightening my chest.
Another message.
"They're closer than you think. Be ready."
The words stabbed at me, and I felt the old, familiar ache of fear. Jayden's grip tightened on my hand.
"We need to find out who's doing this," he said. "Tonight, I'm going to call someone who might help."
A chill ran down my spine. Who was behind these threats? And why was Jayden's past catching up to us now?
I swallowed hard and nodded, but a part of me whispered that nothing would ever be the same again.
---
The hours passed slowly, each minute stretching into an eternity. The apartment felt like a fragile bubble, ready to shatter.
When Jayden's phone finally rang, I held my breath.
He answered quietly, his voice a tense whisper. "I need your help. It's happening again."
I couldn't catch the other side of the conversation, but the way Jayden's face darkened told me everything I needed to know.
After he hung up, he looked at me with a grim set to his jaw. "Someone from my past is back. And they're not playing games."
I felt a wave of emotions—fear, anger, confusion—but above all, a stubborn resolve.
Whatever this was, whatever darkness was coming for us, I wasn't going to run.
I was going to fight.
---
And just then, the lights flickered.
The apartment plunged into darkness once more.
My heart raced as the phone buzzed again.
This time, the message was a single word:
"Tonight."
My fingers trembled as I stared at the glowing screen. Tonight. Just one word, but it felt like a countdown. A warning. A promise of something I wasn't ready for.
Jayden reached out and took the phone from my hand, locking the screen and setting it down carefully on the table. His jaw clenched tight.
"We need to be ready," he said quietly. "I don't know who exactly, but they want to scare us… or worse."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The apartment suddenly felt cold, even with the flickering candles.
"Do you think it has anything to do with your business?" I asked, trying to piece the fragments of his life together.
Jayden shook his head. "No. This is personal. And it's from long ago."
I wanted to ask more, but the heaviness in the room stopped me. Some secrets were buried for a reason.
I looked at him and saw the cracks in his armor—fear, guilt, and a storm I didn't know how to calm.
"Whatever happens," I whispered, "I'm here. You're not alone."
He gave me a faint, grateful smile.
Then the sound came.
A sudden knock.
Soft, deliberate.
At the door.
---
I froze.
Jayden's eyes snapped toward the entrance.
"Who is it?" he called out.
No answer.
Just silence.
My heart thundered in my ears as Jayden moved cautiously toward the door.
I followed, every step heavy with dread.
He peered through the peephole.
"No one," he muttered.
But when he opened the door…
There was a small envelope lying on the floor.
No footprints, no other sign of anyone.
Just the envelope.
Jayden bent down and picked it up.
The air between us felt charged.
I waited for him to open it.
---
Inside was a single folded piece of paper.
Jayden unfolded it slowly.
I could almost hear my own heartbeat pounding in the quiet.
His eyes scanned the note.
And then his face went pale.
He looked up, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's from him."