My Mother's Fiance Was My Ex

Chapter Two

"Go away", says Sarah.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of his presence pressing against the other side of the door. Ryker didn't move. He didn't argue. He didn't even respond immediately.

"You always did get so stubborn when you were angry," he said finally, his voice almost conversational, as if they were sitting in a café instead of standing on opposite sides of a locked door. "It's cute. But it doesn't change anything."

Sarah could hear him shifting, the faint creak of leather as he leaned back against the doorframe.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sarah. I told you. We have a lot to discuss, and I'm not in the mood to do it through a piece of wood."

His voice dropped lower, losing its teasing edge.

Sarah doesn't open the door she just retired for the night.

Sarah retreated to her bedroom, the click of the door locking behind her sounding final in the quiet apartment. She pulled the covers up, staring at the ceiling, trying to drown out the sound of his breathing on the other side of the front door.

Outside, Ryker stood still. He didn't pace. He didn't shout. He simply leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on the hallway light filtering through the gap beneath the door.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Elena," he said when she picked up, his voice smooth and effortless. "Sarah's not feeling well. She went home early and she's acting a bit strange. I think she might need some space tonight."

He listened to her mother's worried response, nodding slowly. "No, don't worry. I'm right here. I'll make sure she's okay."

The next morning, Sarah woke up to the sound of her phone vibrating incessantly on her nightstand.

She reached for it blindly, her eyes still half-closed, and saw a string of missed calls from Elena. Her mother's name flashed repeatedly on the screen.

Sarah, honey, please call me back. Ryker said you were sick last night, but he's not answering his phone today and I can't reach him. I'm worried.

Sarah sat up, rubbing her eyes. The apartment was silent. No sign of Ryker, no sign of him having been there all night. Her mind raced—had he actually left? Or had he just been playing a part to get under her skin?

A new text arrived from Elena.

He's at the florist picking out flowers for the wedding rehearsal tomorrow. He said he'd call you later today. Please don't be mad at him, Sarah.

"Don't worry mom im fine", says Sarah.

Elena's response came back almost immediately, a flurry of emojis and relieved text.

Oh, thank goodness! You had me so worried. I'll tell Ryker you're feeling better. He'll be so happy to hear it.

Sarah stared at the screen. The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. Ryker had been there. He had been standing outside her door all night, and now he was playing the concerned fiancé to her mother.

Her phone buzzed again. A different number this time. No contact name, just a string of digits.

Good morning, Sarah.

The message was short, simple, and utterly terrifying in its familiarity.

I hope you slept well. You looked so peaceful when you left the table last night. I almost wanted to follow you then.

"Who is it"? Sarah replied.

The reply came back instantly, as if he'd been waiting for her to bite.

You know exactly who it is, Sarah. Don't play coy with me. It doesn't suit you.

A second later, another message appeared.

And don't bother blocking this number too. I have plenty more.

Then, a final text that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

By the way, that blue sweater you wore last night? It looked good on you. But you always did prefer the black one when you were trying to hide something.

The phone went silent. No more messages. No more calls. Just the heavy, suffocating realization that he wasn't just back in her life—he was watching her. Even now.

Sarah prepared for school and had breakfast and left for school besides she's in her final year in school.

The morning rush of her final year felt like a lifeline. Between lectures, seminars, and the constant pressure of upcoming exams, Sarah found herself burying her anxiety under a mountain of textbooks and caffeine. She kept her phone face-down on the desk during class, a silent refusal to acknowledge the ghost haunting her notifications.

By midday, she was sitting in the campus courtyard with a friend, trying to focus on a sociology reading.

"You okay?" her friend asked, nudging her shoulder. "You've been staring at that same page for ten minutes."

"Just tired," Sarah muttered, forcing a smile. "Final year stress, you know?"

Her phone buzzed in her bag. Not a text. A call from an unknown number. She ignored it, but the buzzing continued, persistent and rhythmic, until it finally stopped.

A minute later, her friend's phone chimed.

"Wait, what?" her friend said, frowning at her screen.

"What is it", Sarah asked.

Her friend, Mia, turned her phone around to show Sarah the screen.

"Someone just sent me a message," Mia said, her brow furrowed in confusion. "It's from an unknown number. It says: 'Tell Sarah she should focus more on her studies and less on her phone. She's getting distracted.'"

Mia laughed nervously, tapping her screen. "Creepy, right? Probably some guy from one of your classes trying to be an anonymous jerk. I'm blocking him."

Sarah's stomach dropped. It was him. He wasn't just texting her anymore; he was reaching out through anyone she knew. The walls she had built—the block button, the locked door, the ignored calls—were all being systematically dismantled.

"You okay?" Mia asked, noticing the color drain from Sarah's face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just my mom's fiancé". says Sarah.

Mia's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. "Your mom's fiancé? Sarah, that's—that's insane. Why is he messaging me?"

She pulled her phone closer, reading the text again as if it might make more sense the second time. "Is he like... protective or something? Because that's a little weird, even for a stepdad."

Before Sarah could answer, her phone buzzed again. A new message from the unknown number.

Don't lie to your friends, Sarah. It's beneath you.

Mia stared at Sarah, her expression shifting from confusion to genuine concern. "Did you just get another one? Sarah, what is going on?"

"Stay the f**k away from me" Sarah types back and blocks the number.

The message sent. The block was applied. Sarah's thumb trembled slightly as she shoved the phone deep into her bag, the fabric of her jeans feeling suddenly too tight against her skin.

"Sarah," Mia said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If he's harassing you, we should tell someone. This isn't normal. He's literally messaging your friends?"

Sarah didn't answer. She couldn't. The words were stuck in her throat, thick and dry. She stared at her sociology textbook, the black ink blurring into illegible shapes.

Ten minutes later, as they walked toward their next lecture hall, Sarah felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, nearly tripping over her own feet.

It wasn't Mia.

A tall man in a dark suit stood there, his expression neutral, almost professional. He didn't look like a student. He looked like someone who had been waiting for her.