“What are you even doing here?” the man said, grabbing her hand as he pulled her aside.
She looked at him in surprise, pointing to herself.
“Me?”
“This is illegal. Don’t you know that?” His voice, however, was completely gentle and calm.
She blinked twice, hardly believing it was really him.
“But… why are you here?” she asked, quickly fixing her posture, smoothing her dress and hair.
“I called you so many times, but you didn’t pick up. So I checked your location and came here,” he explained briefly.
She just stared at him, still processing everything.
“Are you still upset?” Joe asked softly, tilting his face up, trying to catch her eyes.
But she didn’t make eye contact.
“First, let’s go outside,” he said, not waiting for an answer as he grabbed her hand and led her out.
She didn’t resist.
Moments later, they were both sitting inside the car.
Silence filled the space—thick, suffocating, almost louder than words.
“I know I’ve done wrong…” Joe finally spoke, his voice low, careful.
“But it was for your own good. Please… you can’t just go anywhere without thinking. It’s dangerous.”
His fingers tightened gently around her hand, as if afraid she might disappear again.
She didn’t look at him.
Her eyes were fixed on the building—the same place that had shaken her just moments ago.
“Hey…” he whispered softly, reaching out and turning her face toward him.
Her gaze met his.
“You know I care about you,” he said, his voice barely above a breath.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
For a second, something flickered in her eyes—something fragile.
Her gaze softened, a faint sparkle returning.
“Take care of yourself,” he added quietly.
“You’re important to me.”
That was it.
Her walls broke.
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“I’m sorry…” she whispered against his shoulder.
“For troubling you.”
He hugged her back just as tightly.
For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist.
Slowly, they pulled away—reluctantly—and looked into each other’s eyes.
And in that silence… everything was understood.
“Let’s have lunch together,” she said.
Joe glanced at her for a second… then nodded.
“Alright.”
The restaurant was warm and softly lit, filled with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery.
A calm place—too calm for the storm quietly building between them.
They sat across from each other.
For a while, it felt normal.
Too normal.
“So…” Joe leaned back slightly, eyes on her.
“Which case are you handling right now?”
She picked up her glass, taking a small sip—buying time.
Then she smiled.
“The Shelly murder case. It’s trending everywhere.”
For a split second… something changed in his expression.
Gone too fast to catch.
“Did you find anything?” he asked, his voice steady, almost too steady.
Her fingers paused over the table.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
But instead of answering, she leaned forward slightly and took his hand.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said softly.
Her thumb brushed against his skin.
“I don’t disclose my secrets to anyone,” she continued, her eyes locking with his.
“That’s my main principle…”
A small pause.
“…even if you’re my boyfriend.”
The words hung between them.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Joe didn’t pull his hand away.
But he didn’t smile either.
“Right,” he muttered, looking down for a moment.
The food arrived.
Neither of them touched it immediately.
Because suddenly… this wasn’t just lunch anymore.
It was a quiet game.
And both of them were hiding something.
Later, outside the restaurant, the air felt different.
Colder.
He dropped her home without another word.
The moment she stepped into her bedroom, she locked the door behind her.
Her calm mask fell instantly.
Her hand moved quickly to her bag.
And there it was—
The cloth fragment.
She held it tightly, her breath uneven.
“This…” she whispered, staring at it.
“…this is the key.”
Exhaustion finally took over.
She lay on her bed, the cloth fragment still clutched in her hand… her thoughts slowly fading into darkness.
And soon—
She fell asleep.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
The kind of silence that feels… wrong.
The curtains barely moved as a faint breeze slipped in through the window.
Shadows stretched along the walls, shifting ever so slightly.
Everything was still.
Until—
A touch.
Soft.
Unexpected.
A pair of palms brushed against her arm.
She flinched instantly.
Her eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as her body tensed in fear.
For a moment… she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
Only feel—
That someone was there.
Right beside her.
She shuddered in fear.
The room suddenly felt… unsettling.
Like the walls were closing in.
Like the air itself had changed.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Slowly, she pushed herself off the bed, her movements cautious, almost fragile.
She grabbed the nearest thing she could use—a bat—her fingers tightening around it as if it were her only protection.
“Hello…?” her voice came out barely a whisper.
No answer.
She stepped forward, checking every corner… every shadow… every hidden space.
Nothing.
And yet—
The feeling didn’t leave.
That dread.
It wrapped around her chest, making it hard to breathe.
“This is insane…” she muttered under her breath, though her voice trembled.
After checking the entire place, she made her way to the kitchen.
Her hands were still shaking.
She grabbed a glass, quickly filling it with water.
The sound of it pouring felt unusually loud in the silence.
She drank it in one go.
Then another.
Trying to calm herself.
Trying to convince herself that nothing was wrong.
But deep down…
She knew.
Something was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
_____________________________________
The next day, she went to the psychologist—just like she decided.
The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender.
Calm.
Controlled.
Almost too perfect.
She filled out the therapy forms with slightly trembling hands, her pen pausing more than once over simple questions.
Sleep pattern?
Stress level?
She didn’t know what to write anymore.
“Come in.”
The soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
She stepped inside and sat down on the chair across from the psychologist, sinking into it as if her body had finally given up.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“So…” the psychologist began gently, observing her.
“What’s been happening with you?”
She inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening in her lap.
“Something strange,” she said, her voice barely steady.
“Like… what I’m seeing… what I’m feeling… I can’t explain it.”
The psychologist leaned forward slightly.
“Strange how?”
She hesitated.
Because how do you explain something that doesn’t make sense even to you?
“I feel like I’m not alone sometimes,” she whispered.
“Even when I know I am.”
A pause.
“Are you experiencing anything… paranormal?” the psychologist asked carefully.
She let out a small, confused breath.
“I don’t know.”
“Alright,” the psychologist nodded, shifting approach.
“Have you been working overtime lately?”
“…Yes.”
“Overworking yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And your sleep cycle?”
She let out a dry, almost humorless laugh.
“I don’t sleep.”
The room went quiet.
“I try,” she added softly, her eyes dropping.
“But the moment I close my eyes… it’s like something pulls me back awake.”
Her fingers curled tightly together.
“I can’t sleep,” she repeated, this time barely above a whisper.
“Are you living with your parents?” the psychologist continued, her tone calm, steady.
“No,” she replied softly.
“Are you in a relationship?”
A small pause.
“Yes.”
“Does he love you?”
She hesitated… then a faint smile touched her lips.
“I think he loves me more than I think.”
“Alright,” the psychologist nodded.
“How is he with you? I mean… how is his behavior?”
The question lingered in the air.
Her smile faded.
Silence.
Her fingers tightened in her lap as her thoughts began to drift—moments replaying, expressions she hadn’t questioned before… things that suddenly didn’t feel so normal anymore.
She didn’t answer.
Because for the first time—
She didn’t know what to say.
“Okay… I understand,” the psychologist said gently.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
“Since when have you known him?”
A soft smile appeared on her lips, almost unconsciously.
“Since childhood,” she said, her voice warmer now.
Her mind drifted back—
To a small kindergarten classroom… tiny chairs, bright walls, and nervous little kids clinging to their parents.
She remembered how their parents had introduced them, encouraging them to be friends.
He had reached out his small hand first.
And she had taken it.
Just like that… they became best friends.
“We grew up together,” she continued softly.
“He was my first best friend.”
Her smile deepened, but there was something fragile in it.
“Then… somewhere along the way, it changed.”
A small pause.
“We fell in love.”
Her eyes dropped slightly.
“And now… we’re together.”
“How important is he to you?” the psychologist asked softly.
She went quiet.
Tried to think.
Tried to put something so big… into words.
Her throat tightened.
“He’s…” she started, then stopped, searching.
“He’s everything.”
Her voice grew steadier, stronger with every word.
“Even if the whole world goes against me for choosing him… I’ll go against the world.”
A small pause.
“I’m not losing him.”
Her fingers clenched slightly in her lap.
“He’s the only person who truly understands me… who motivates me… who loves me.”
Her gaze dropped, her voice softening.
“My parents got divorced when I was really young,” she admitted quietly.
“And after that… he was the one who stayed.”
Another pause.
“He supported me… emotionally, mentally… in every way possible.”
Her lips curved into a faint, fragile smile.
“He’s not just important to me,” she whispered.
“He’s my whole world.”
“Do you notice any changes in him… from childhood to now? Before your relationship… and now, as adults?”
She went still.
Her mind searched through years of memories—laughter, fights, quiet moments, the way he used to look at her… and the way he does now.
“He used to be… simpler,” she said slowly.
“More open.”
A small pause.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
“But now…”
She hesitated.
“Now he hides things.”
The words felt heavy.
“Sometimes… he disappears without explaining. And when I ask, he just… brushes it off.”
She swallowed.
“And the way he looks at me sometimes…” she added quietly.
“It’s like he’s worried. Or… like he knows something I don’t.”
Silence filled the room.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Maybe I’m overthinking.”
But deep down—
It didn’t feel like overthinking anymore.
“Are you taking any sleeping pills?” the psychologist asked gently.
She shook her head almost immediately.
“No.”
A brief pause.
“I tried once… but I didn’t continue.”
Her fingers fidgeted slightly in her lap.
“I don’t like how it feels… like I’m forcing myself to sleep.”
She looked up, her eyes tired.
“I just want to sleep normally.”
“Anything else you want to tell me?” the psychologist asked gently.
Her lips parted slightly.
For a moment… she almost said it.
The dream.
The feeling.
The way it lingered even after she woke up—too real, too close.
Her fingers tightened in her lap.
“No…” she said quietly, shaking her head.
“I think that’s all.”
But it wasn’t.
She just… chose not to say it.
Because that dream—
That feeling—
It was hers.
Something fragile.
Something personal.
Something that felt… as special as Joe.
And she wasn’t ready to share it.
Not yet.
The psychologist prescribed her some medication and suggested a few changes to her daily routine.
“Try to follow this regularly,” he said, handing her the prescription.
“And come back to see me if you feel uneasy… or even if you start feeling okay.”
She nodded quietly, taking the paper from his hand.
“Alright.”
_____________________________________
She had taken a day off, so she went to the Eiffel Tower.
She sat down on a bench, taking a deep breath.
The breeze was light, carrying a strange sense of calm.
Maybe life was like this, she thought.
Simple.
Quiet.
Almost happy.
For a moment, everything felt… positive.
She sat there, quietly admiring the beauty around her.
The creations of humans… and the creations of God.
The difference felt so clear.
Human creations were solid—structured, perfect in their own way.
Beautiful… but lifeless.
But God’s creations?
They breathed.
They felt.
They lived.
They were far more beautiful… because they carried a soul.
She exhaled softly, letting the thought settle within her.
And then—
“Ma’am!”
A small voice broke her trance.
She turned just in time to see a little girl running toward her, slightly out of breath.
Before she could even react, the girl placed a large bouquet of red roses into her hands.
A full, beautiful bundle.
Bright.
Alive.
For a moment, she was too stunned to speak.
“Wait—” she started, looking at the girl.
“Who—?”
But before she could even finish her question, the girl had already turned around and run back.
Leaving her there…
Holding the roses.
And a question that suddenly didn’t feel so simple anymore.
A letter was tucked inside the bouquet.
Her fingers froze for a second… before she slowly pulled it out.
The paper felt… strangely warm.
She unfolded it.
“I know you’re not okay. I know you’re struggling. I know you don’t have anyone to share it with… But remember— you have me. Whenever you want, you can come to me. The door will always remain open for you. I’m always watching you. I’m protecting you…”
Her breath hitched.
The words… they weren’t just comforting.
They felt—
Close.
Too close.
Her eyes darted around instinctively, scanning the surroundings.
The crowd.
The silence.
The space behind her.
Nothing.
And yet—
It didn’t feel like she was alone anymore.
She felt that same warmth—the one from her dream.
And then—
She turned.
The world stopped.
So did she.
Even her hair… froze mid-air, as if time itself had forgotten to move.
Her heartbeat—
Glitched.
One second it was there.
The next—
Silence.
The moment twisted, flickered… like reality itself was breaking.
Everything felt wrong.
Like she wasn’t standing in the world anymore—
But somewhere in between.
_____________________________________
Not every shadow follows to haunt you.
Some follow to protect you.
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