Chapter Three: seen
1767 Words
Mira had been staring at the same message for almost ten minutes.
Who are you?
Delivered.
No reply.
She lay on her bed with her phone held above her face, watching the small word beneath her message as if it would suddenly change. Her room was quiet except for the low sound of the fan turning slowly above her. The power had gone off earlier, then returned only a few minutes ago. Outside, the street was darker than usual.
She should have been reading.
Her assignment was still open on the floor beside her bed. A notebook rested on top of it, filled with half-written points and messy handwriting. She had promised herself she would finish at least two pages before sleeping.
But every time she tried to focus, her mind returned to the stranger.
You should not let people who hurt you make you feel small.
How had he seen Daniel?
How close had he been?
And why did he care?
Mira sat up and rubbed her eyes. “This is nonsense,” she whispered to herself.
It was only a number.
A person she did not know.
Someone who could be anywhere.
Still, her fingers moved across the screen, opening his profile.
No picture.
No status.
No name.
Nothing.
Just a blank display photo and the number she had known by heart for almost a year.
Amara’s number.
Her chest tightened.
She remembered the first time she called it after Amara died. She had sat in the bathroom with the door locked, pressing the phone against her ear while it rang and rang. She had known Amara would not answer, but hearing the ringing had made it feel like she was still somewhere close.
Now someone else owned that number.
Someone with a low voice and too many secrets.
Someone who knew Mira’s name.
Her phone vibrated.
Mira froze.
Her heart jumped before she even looked at the screen.
Stranger: You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t answer hers.
Mira frowned.
Mira: You were watching me today.
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Then disappeared.
Mira waited.
Her heartbeat grew louder in her ears.
Finally, a reply came.
Stranger: I saw you.
Her breath caught.
It was not an answer.
It was worse.
Mira: Where were you?
Stranger: Close enough.
Mira looked toward her window.
The curtain moved slightly because of the breeze, and suddenly the darkness outside felt different. Bigger. The kind of darkness that could hide anything.
She stood up quickly and crossed the room. Her bare feet touched the cold floor as she pulled the curtain aside.
The street outside was quiet.
A few cars passed in the distance. A woman from the next compound was locking her gate. Two children ran past, laughing loudly before their mother called them back inside.
Nothing looked strange.
No one stood under a streetlight.
No one watched her window.
Still, Mira locked it.
Her phone vibrated again.
Stranger: You’re scared.
Mira’s face warmed with anger.
Mira: You should stop acting like you know me.
There was a pause.
Then another message appeared.
Stranger: I know you pretend you’re fine when you’re not.
Mira stared at it.
Her fingers stopped moving.
Stranger: I know you bite your lip when you’re trying not to cry.
Her hand slowly went to her mouth.
She had done that earlier in the hallway.
Stranger: And I know you walked away from that boy today even though part of you wanted to stay.
Mira’s throat tightened.
She had hated herself for feeling that way. For letting Daniel’s voice shake something inside her. For remembering the version of him that used to wait outside her class with snacks when she had long lectures.
But she had walked away.
She had chosen herself.
And somehow, this stranger had seen it.
Mira: If you’re near me, show yourself.
The message delivered.
Mira waited.
One minute passed.
Then two.
No reply.
She began to feel stupid again. Maybe he had gone offline. Maybe he was laughing at her somewhere. Maybe he was not even a student. Maybe he was just someone who liked making people uncomfortable.
Her phone rang.
Mira froze.
The screen showed one word.
Stranger.
She watched it ring once.
Twice.
Three times.
Her thumb hovered over the answer button.
She should not pick up.
Her mother was in the next room. She could call out if she needed help. She could block the number. She could end this strange thing before it became something dangerous.
But curiosity was stronger than fear.
Mira answered.
“Hello?”
Her voice came out softer than she wanted.
For a few seconds, there was only silence.
Mira could hear breathing.
Slow. Calm. Male.
“Say something,” she whispered.
A low voice finally spoke.
“You should stop trusting people so easily, Mira.”
Her heart skipped.
“You’re the one texting me.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me who you are.”
A soft sound came through the phone. Not quite a laugh, but close.
“Not yet.”
Mira gripped the phone tighter. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you keep sending messages to someone who can’t answer.”
The words hurt more than she expected.
Her eyes burned.
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“No,” he said quietly. “But I know you miss her.”
Mira swallowed hard.
For some reason, his voice did not sound cruel. It sounded careful. Like he was choosing every word before saying it.
“You should have ignored me,” she said.
“I tried.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Silence filled the call again.
Mira could hear faint music in the background. A slow song played softly, then stopped. She heard the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere near him.
“You sounded lonely,” he finally said.
Her throat tightened.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“It isn’t pity.”
“Then what is it?”
His voice lowered slightly.
“Curiosity.”
Mira’s breath caught.
“Curiosity?”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“About the girl who sends messages at midnight like she is afraid someone will hear her cry.”
Mira shut her eyes.
She hated that he was right.
She hated that his voice made her feel less alone.
“You’re strange,” she whispered.
“So are you.”
For the first time since the call began, Mira almost smiled.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, pulling her knees close to her chest.
“Why do you have her number?” she asked quietly.
The line went silent.
Mira waited.
She could hear his breathing, but he did not answer.
“Are you going to ignore that question too?”
“I told you,” he said after a moment. “Names make people expect things.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you.”
Mira frowned. “You act like you know everything about me, but you won’t tell me one thing about yourself.”
“I never said I knew everything.”
“You know enough.”
His voice became quieter.
“Maybe I only know what you allow people to see.”
Mira did not know why those words made her chest feel tight.
She looked down at the small scar on her wrist, the one she got when she was younger after falling from a bicycle. Amara had been there that day, laughing at her for crying over such a small injury.
Mira had not thought about that memory in months.
“You sound like you know pain,” she said before she could stop herself.
The stranger was quiet for so long that she thought the call had ended.
Then he spoke.
“Everyone knows pain.”
“But not everyone talks like they are carrying it.”
His breath changed slightly.
Mira could not explain why she noticed.
“Maybe you should sleep,” he said.
“Are you avoiding the question?”
“Yes.”
Mira blinked.
The answer was so direct that she almost laughed.
“You’re annoying.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“By who?”
“People who knew me.”
The way he said it made her stop smiling.
Before she could ask what he meant, a knock sounded on her bedroom door.
“Mira?” her mother called. “Are you awake?”
Mira quickly sat up. “Yes, Mum.”
The stranger went quiet.
Her mother opened the door slightly. She wore an old wrapper and looked exhausted.
“Are you talking to someone?”
“No,” Mira lied quickly. “I was watching something.”
Her mother looked at her phone, then back at Mira.
“Try to sleep early. You have class tomorrow.”
“I will.”
Her mother nodded and closed the door.
Mira waited until she heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway.
“I’ll call you later,” she whispered into the phone.
“You won’t,” he replied.
Mira frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re scared of me.”
His voice was calm, but there was something else beneath it. Something almost challenging.
Mira’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Then prove it.”
Her heart beat harder.
“How?”
“Don’t block this number.”
Before she could answer, the call ended.
Mira stared at her phone.
For a few seconds, she could only hear the fan turning above her.
Then a new message appeared.
Stranger: Goodnight, Mira.
She read it once.
Then again.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
She wanted to reply.
She wanted to ask him why he cared. She wanted to ask where he had been standing when Daniel spoke to her. She wanted to ask if she would see him again tomorrow.
Instead, she typed:
Mira: Goodnight, Stranger.
The message delivered.
A few seconds later, his reply came.
Stranger: Sleep well.
Mira placed the phone beside her pillow and turned off the small lamp near her bed.
But sleep did not come easily.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard his voice.
Low.
Calm.
Too close.
And somewhere inside her, beneath the fear and confusion, a dangerous curiosity began to grow.
Because for the first time since Amara died, Mira did not feel completely alone.
And that frightened her more than the stranger ever could.
- Writer
