Chapter 5: Unexpected Visitor
1436 Words
The steam from her shower still clung faintly to her skin as Maya tugged a towel through her damp hair. The guest room was small but cozy, filled with the muffled hush of rain outside. For a moment, she felt almost normal — as if this were just another morning, as if she weren’t living under Ethan’s roof, trying desperately not to betray how much she wanted him.
She had just slipped on a soft T-shirt and shorts when the sharp knock at the apartment door jolted her.
Three firm raps. Not tentative. Not neighborly.
Her heart skipped. She stilled, listening. Ethan’s footsteps didn’t sound in the hallway. No movement from the kitchen. Which meant he hadn’t heard.
Another knock followed, louder this time.
Maya crept to her door, pressing her ear to the wood. Whoever it was stood just beyond the entryway, the sound of rain spattering on the outer corridor faintly audible between the beats of her pulse.
She bit her lip, hesitating. It could be a delivery. It could be a neighbor. But something in the rhythm of the knock — insistent, purposeful — made her skin prickle.
“Ethan?” she called softly through the door of her room, not loud enough for anyone outside to hear. No response.
The knocking came again.
Her stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they weren’t going away.
She swallowed, gathering the courage to step out into the hallway. The hardwood floor was cool under her bare feet as she padded closer to the apartment’s front door. The shadow of someone tall shifted through the frosted glass panel.
She froze, her hand hovering near the knob, pulse drumming in her ears.
The shadow beyond the frosted glass shifted again. Whoever it was, they leaned slightly, as though trying to peer inside.
Maya’s throat felt dry. She should just wait for Ethan — that was the sensible choice. But something compelled her forward. Slowly, she turned the lock and pulled the door open just enough to see.
A man stood there, tall, rain dripping from the hood of his jacket. His face was pale, a little too sharp, his smile faint and wrong.
“Morning,” he said, his voice smooth but with a strange, almost rehearsed calm. His eyes flicked over her, lingering a second too long before meeting hers again. “Sorry for dropping by so early.”
Maya tightened her grip on the door. “Can I… help you?”
He tilted his head slightly, rain still pattering off the awning above. “This is Ethan Ross’s place, right?”
Her pulse quickened. “Yeah. He’s… not here at the moment.” She didn’t know why she lied. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the unsettling way his gaze pinned her in place.
The man’s smile widened a fraction. “Ah. I see. Then you must be Maya.”
The bottom dropped from her stomach. She hadn’t introduced herself. Ethan hadn’t even mentioned she was staying here in front of anyone — not yet.
Her fingers curled tighter on the edge of the door. “How do you know my name?”
The man’s gaze lingered, heavy, deliberate. “Small world,” he said vaguely, as though that explained anything. “Tell Ethan I stopped by. I’ll be in touch.”
He gave a small nod, then turned and walked down the hall, footsteps muffled by the rain.
Maya stood frozen, the door still half open, her breath caught in her chest. She hadn’t realized she was shaking until she tried to close the door and her hand trembled against the knob. Whoever he was, he hadn’t come here for Ethan. He’d come for her.
Maya shut the door with more force than she intended, the echo thudding through the apartment. Her hands were still trembling as she turned the lock, double-checking it even though she knew it had clicked.
She took one step back, trying to steady her breathing, when a voice behind her made her jump.
“Maya?”
She spun. Ethan was standing at the end of the hall, damp from the rain, a grocery bag slung casually over one arm. His brows furrowed instantly when he saw her pressed against the door, wide-eyed.
“What happened?” His tone sharpened — not panicked, but tense, alert.
“Someone was here,” she managed, her voice thinner than she wanted.
He dropped the bag onto the console table, closing the distance between them in quick strides. “Who?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Some guy. Tall. Hooded jacket. He asked for you, but then—” She stopped, biting down on the rest. She wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that he’d known her name. Not yet.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Did he do anything?”
“No. Just… stood there. Smiling. Talking like he knew more than he should.”
His expression darkened, the easy warmth from breakfast gone. He stepped closer, so close she caught the faint smell of rain and coffee clinging to him. One hand hovered at her arm, not quite touching.
“You should’ve called me before opening the door,” he said quietly, his voice low but not scolding — protective, weighted.
“I thought it was just—” She broke off, then exhaled, frustrated. “I don’t know what I thought. It didn’t feel right, Ethan.”
He studied her face for a moment, his eyes sharp, searching. Then his hand settled gently on her arm, grounding her. “Next time, don’t open it. Not until I’m here. Got it?”
She nodded, pulse racing for reasons that had little to do with the stranger outside. The firmness in his voice, the steady grip on her arm, the way his gaze softened even as his jaw stayed clenched — it all stirred something in her chest she wasn’t ready to name.
“Good,” he murmured. He let his hand linger one beat longer than necessary before pulling it away.
The hall was quiet now, except for the rain tapping faintly at the windows. But the air between them stayed charged, heavy with something unspoken — fear, tension, and the undeniable gravity drawing her closer to him.
Ethan double-checked the lock himself, tugging the knob twice, then stood with his palm flat against the door as if to test its strength. His shoulders stayed tense, muscles coiled tight, even after he was satisfied.
“Whoever he was,” he said, voice low, steady, “he’s not getting back in here. Not past me.”
The certainty in his tone should have calmed her. Instead, it sent a warm rush through her chest, too close to comfort and danger both.
Maya crossed her arms, though it felt more like bracing herself than defiance. “Do you get random visitors like that a lot?”
“Never,” he said immediately, turning to face her. His gaze fixed on hers, dark and unyielding. “That’s what makes it strange.”
She bit her lip, hesitating. The words burned at the edge of her tongue — he knew my name. But something in her resisted, maybe because saying it aloud would make it too real.
Instead, she muttered, “It was probably nothing.”
His jaw worked, like he wanted to push, but he let it go. For now. He exhaled and rubbed a hand through his damp hair. “Look. Until I figure this out, keep the door locked. And if anyone shows up again, you wait for me. No exceptions.”
There was no space in his voice for argument.
She nodded, trying to match his seriousness. “Fine. No exceptions.”
For a long moment, neither moved. The rain’s patter filled the silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Ethan’s gaze lingered on her, too intense, too raw, like he wanted to say something more.
But he didn’t. Instead, he bent to pick up the forgotten grocery bag, setting it gently on the counter.
“Breakfast part two,” he said, forcing a lighter tone, though his eyes hadn’t softened. “Because apparently, drama works better on a full stomach.”
It drew the smallest laugh from her, shaky but real. She followed him to the kitchen, brushing past him in the narrow hall. Their shoulders touched — barely, fleeting — but it was enough to make her pulse spike again.
The visitor was gone, but his presence hung like a shadow. And in its wake, Ethan’s nearness felt more dangerous than ever.
- Writer
