Chapter Five – Something Isn’t Right Amara’s POV
948 Words
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I don’t know how I would’ve survived the last few weeks without Eli.
It’s a thought that both comforts and scares me.
He appeared out of nowhere—like fate, like a lifeline—and somehow, he just knew what I needed when the rest of the world fell silent.
But still... there’s this tiny whisper at the back of my mind.
Something that doesn't quite settle.
---
I wake to the sound of glass tapping.
My window.
Again.
The wind, maybe. I keep telling myself that.
But when I get up and peek outside, there's no wind tonight. Just silence. Just fog curling along the street like smoke from an unseen fire.
I shut the window and lock it—again.
Third night in a row.
Maybe it’s just my nerves.
Maybe it’s the guilt of letting Eli in so easily.
---
We go for coffee the next morning.
He buys me lavender tea instead of my usual.
“I thought you might need something calming,” he says, not even glancing at the menu.
I blink. “How did you know I liked lavender?”
He shrugs. “Just a guess.”
I smile, but my fingers tighten around the cup.
He always guesses right.
It should be sweet. Thoughtful.
Instead, it feels a little... studied.
---
Afterward, I stop by the bookstore—my usual spot when I’m trying to breathe again.
Except something’s off.
The shop owner, Mr. Harris, gives me a strange look. “You already picked up your order,” he says when I ask for the poetry collection I pre-ordered last week.
I frown. “No, I didn’t.”
“You sure? Someone came in yesterday. Said they were picking it up for you.”
I freeze. “Did they leave a name?”
Mr. Harris scratches his head. “Didn’t say. Tall guy. Black hoodie. Looked like he knew you.”
My heart starts to beat a little faster.
Eli?
But I never told him about the order.
---
When I ask him later, he laughs. “You think I’d go pick up a book just to mess with you?”
He doesn’t say no.
Instead, he leans closer across the table, voice low and smooth. “But if I did, it’d only be because I knew you’d forget. And I like making sure you have what you love.”
There’s that smile again. The one that always disarms me.
Still… the whisper in my chest grows louder.
---
That night, I try to sleep.
I really do.
But I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me.
I don’t hear anything. Don’t see anything.
But I feel it.
Like a sixth sense crawling over my skin.
I move to the kitchen. Make tea. Try to breathe.
That’s when I see it—on the windowsill.
A folded piece of paper.
Outside.
On the second floor.
My stomach turns.
I unlock the window, reach out, and grab it.
There’s no name. Just a line scrawled in dark ink:
“He would’ve broken you. I’ll never let that happen.”
My blood turns to ice.
The handwriting matches the others—the notes I found tucked in my books, left on my doorstep. Notes I thought were sweet. Notes I kept.
But now…
Now it feels like something else.
Possession.
Control.
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I call Eli the next morning.
“I need to ask you something,” I say when he answers.
His voice is calm. Smooth as always. “What is it?”
“These notes… the ones I’ve been getting. You didn’t write them, did you?”
Silence.
Then a soft chuckle. “Amara… you think I’d sneak around leaving anonymous letters like I’m in a bad movie?”
I laugh nervously. “Yeah, I guess it’s silly.”
But when we hang up, something still sits heavy in my gut.
Because he didn’t say no.
And something in his voice—something dark beneath the softness—sent a chill down my spine.
---
That afternoon, I run into Daniel from my old law class.
He offers me a smile, asks how I’m doing.
It’s the first normal conversation I’ve had in weeks.
I smile back. I don’t even realize we’re flirting until I see him.
Eli.
Standing at the edge of the street. Still. Staring.
Unblinking.
He doesn’t wave.
Doesn’t smile.
Just watches.
Daniel leaves soon after, clearly unnerved.
When I turn back, Eli is gone.
---
I don’t sleep that night.
Instead, I pace the living room.
The shadows in the corners feel like they’re breathing.
I keep catching glimpses of movement just outside the window.
But every time I look, there’s nothing.
I’m spiraling.
Or maybe I’m seeing the truth.
Maybe it’s always been there.
And I was just too hurt—too broken—to notice that the one person I let in…
Might not have saved me.
He might have chosen me.
Long before I ever saw him.
---
The next morning, I wake to another gift.
A necklace.
Another one.
This time, it’s gold. A delicate chain with a tiny letter A at the center.
And a note.
“You’re starting to see me. Finally.”
No signature.
Just that same ink.
My hands tremble.
I drop it into the drawer and slam it shut.
Then I grab my keys and run out the door.
I don’t know where I’m going.
But I can’t stay.
Not when the shadows feel like they’re following me.
Not when the man I trusted is turning into someone I don’t recognize.
Not when I realize…
I might not be free.
I might never have been.
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