Chapter 17: The Door Should Have Stayed Closed
1067 Words
For a moment, I couldn’t move.
My hand stayed frozen just inches from the door handle, my breath caught somewhere between fear and disbelief. That voice… it didn’t belong here. Not tonight. Not after everything that had already happened. My mind scrambled to make sense of it, to find a logical explanation, but nothing felt right. Every instinct in me was screaming to step back, to pretend I wasn’t home, to let whatever was on the other side of that door disappear on its own.
But I didn’t move away.
I leaned closer instead.
“Say your name,” I said, my voice quieter now, tighter, like I needed confirmation even though deep down, I already knew.
There was a small pause, just long enough to make my heart beat harder.
Then—
“It’s me.”
That was all it took.
I closed my eyes for a second, exhaling slowly, trying to steady myself before I made a decision I wouldn’t be able to undo. My fingers wrapped around the handle, cold and slightly shaky, and before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the door.
And there he was.
Standing right in front of me like nothing had changed, like time hadn’t passed, like he hadn’t walked out of my life and left everything behind. But something was different. I saw it immediately, even before he spoke again. It was in his eyes. The confidence I used to know was still there, but now it was mixed with something else… something heavier. Something that didn’t belong to the person I remembered.
“You look surprised,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
I let out a short breath, crossing my arms without even thinking about it. “That’s because you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
The way he said it made my stomach tighten. Not defensive. Not dramatic. Just… certain.
“You always have a choice,” I replied quickly, not letting him pull me into whatever this was. “You just don’t like the consequences.”
For a second, something flashed across his face, something sharp, almost like irritation, but it disappeared just as fast.
“You really think this is about me showing up because I miss you?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly.
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know anymore.
And that scared me more than anything.
He took a small step closer, and instantly, my body reacted, I stepped back without thinking, creating distance between us again. His eyes didn’t miss it.
“Relax,” he said softly. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t be knocking.”
A chill ran through me at the way he said it so calmly, like it wasn’t even supposed to comfort me.
“Then say what you came to say,” I shot back, trying to hold onto some control. “And leave.”
He studied me for a moment, like he was deciding how much to tell me, how far to go.
Then he reached into his pocket.
My heart jumped.
Every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind at once, but instead of anything dangerous, he pulled out his phone and held it up, turning the screen toward me.
“Recognize this number?”
I looked at it.
And my entire body went still.
It was the same number.
The unknown number.
The one that had been texting me.
I snapped my eyes back up to him, my expression hardening instantly. “You’ve been messaging me?”
“No,” he said immediately. “And that’s the problem.”
My confusion came back stronger than before, crashing into my fear and making everything feel even more unstable.
“Then how do you have it?”
“Because I’ve been trying to track it,” he replied, his tone more serious now. “And it’s not just messaging you.”
A cold feeling spread through my chest. “What does that mean?”
He hesitated.
And that hesitation told me everything was about to get worse.
“It means,” he said slowly, “whoever this is… they’ve been watching both of us.”
My heart dropped so fast it felt like the ground disappeared under me.
“That’s not possible,” I said, but my voice didn’t sound convinced.
“I wish you were right.”
The room suddenly felt smaller, tighter, like the walls were closing in without warning. Everything I thought I understood was slipping again, and I hated how fast I was losing control of the situation.
“Why?” I asked, my voice barely steady. “Why would anyone do that?”
His jaw tightened slightly, like he didn’t want to answer.
But I wasn’t letting him avoid it this time.
“Tell me,” I pressed.
He looked at me, really looked at me, like he was seeing something I didn’t even know about myself.
And when he finally spoke, his voice carried something that made my stomach twist.
“Because you’re not as uninvolved as you think.”
Silence filled the space between us.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Dangerous.
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You will,” he said quietly.
And somehow, that sounded more like a promise than a warning.
Before I could ask anything else, before I could demand answers or push him further, a sound broke through the moment.
A car door slammed outside.
Both of us froze.
His head turned instantly toward the window, his entire body going tense in a way that told me this wasn’t normal.
“Do you have anyone else coming?” he asked quickly.
“No.”
That was all it took.
His expression changed immediately, the calm completely gone now, replaced with urgency.
“Then we have a problem.”
My heart started racing again. “What kind of problem?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“The kind where you shouldn’t be standing this close to the door.”
And before I could react—
There was another knock.
Louder this time.
Not calm.
Not patient.
This one came with force.
And suddenly, I realized something that made everything worse.
Whoever was outside this time…
Wasn’t here to talk.
- Writer
