First message
The bell above the diner door rings softly.
You glance up—and there he is again.
The same man who always sits in the corner booth. Black hair falling over his eyes, a cup of coffee untouched as his gaze lingers on you longer than it should.
He never talks. Never smiles.
He just watches.
Hours later, after your shift, your phone vibrates.
Unknown Number:
“Walk home safely tonight.”
Another message appears.
“I’m always watching.”
Your stomach drops.
You never gave him your number.