Chapter four: "You looked scared".Why?
1058 Words
Tessa didn’t move.
From the narrow slit in the staff room door, she stared at him—still seated, still watching. His coffee sat untouched. His eyes, distant and unreadable, bore into her like he was dissecting a puzzle only he understood.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her palms were damp against the doorframe. Her thoughts scrambled, colliding with each other, trying to land on something rational—anything that might make this feeling go away. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe her brain was just playing tricks. But deep in her gut, where instinct overruled reason, something screamed: It’s him.
Does he know where I work? Has he been here before? Watched me?
She looked toward the back exit. For a moment, the idea of slipping out and never coming back sounded like the only safe option. But her keys were in her bag, behind the counter. She couldn’t just run. And even if she did, where would she go?
Tessa clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. No more hiding. She wouldn’t let fear dictate her every move. She pushed open the door, shoulders squared, steps even.
Back in the café, the warmth and clatter felt surreal—like a dream she was walking through with one foot still in a nightmare. She avoided looking directly at him but felt every inch of his gaze.
She kept her head down and moved to the register, pretending to tidy receipts, trying to appear unbothered. But her hands trembled as she straightened the stack. When she finally glanced toward the window, her stomach dropped.
He was standing.
Coffee in hand, he walked slowly toward the exit—toward her. His expression was unreadable, calm, controlled.
Then he paused.
Right in front of her.
He leaned slightly toward the counter, just close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the glint of something unreadable in his eyes.
“See you around, Tessa.”
Her name slid off his tongue like it had been there for years.
And then, he walked out.
The bell above the door jingled softly behind him, far too gentle for the force it left behind.
---
The next hour blurred.
She took orders, smiled when needed, nodded when spoken to. But her mind wasn’t in the room—it was unraveling in a hundred directions.
How did he know my name?
He must’ve seen my name tag… right?
What if he didn’t?
Tessa couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder. Each customer that walked through the door made her stomach tighten. She knew she was spiraling, but she couldn’t stop. Her body was at work, but her mind was elsewhere—back in that alley, back to the whisper of footsteps behind her, back to his eyes.
“Hey,” a voice pulled her from her trance.
It was Marnie, her coworker, standing next to her with a concerned frown. “You okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” Tessa said too quickly.
“You sure? You seem… off.”
“I’m just tired,” she lied, and forced a weak smile. “Didn’t sleep much.”
Marnie didn’t push, just gave her a lingering glance and went back to wiping the espresso machine.
Tessa grabbed her phone and slipped into the hallway near the bathrooms. She dialed her mother.
“Sweetheart?” her mom answered after two rings, her voice warm and tired.
“Hey, Mom.”
There was a pause. “Is everything alright?”
Tessa closed her eyes. She wanted to tell her everything—that she was scared, that something was wrong, that she wasn’t sure if she was being followed. But the words caught in her throat.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m okay. Just checking in.”
Her mother sighed. “You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“You don’t need to keep sending money, Tess. I know you’re working hard—”
“I want to. I need to. Just… take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will. You too. Call me tonight?”
“Yeah. I will.”
But she didn’t mean it.
---
By the time her shift ended, night had begun to fall. The café closed with a quiet murmur—chairs stacked, counters wiped, lights dimmed. Tessa waved goodbye to Marnie and Jake and stepped outside, hoodie pulled over her head.
The streets were alive in that eerie, in-between way. Not loud, not quiet. Just… watching.
She walked fast, each step echoing louder than the last. Her eyes darted from alley to alley. A man stood across the street smoking, a woman hurried past with groceries. No one paid her attention.
And yet—
She heard it again. A shuffle behind her. A footstep stopping when hers did. She turned sharply. Nothing.
She walked faster.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Her hands were curled into fists inside her sleeves. Don’t run. Don’t look afraid.
When she finally reached her building, she fumbled with the keys and rushed inside, bolting the door behind her. The silence in her apartment felt deafening.
She checked every room. Bathroom. Closet. Under the bed. It was ridiculous, she told herself—but she had to be sure.
Only once everything was locked and secure did she sink onto the couch, chest heaving.
She stayed like that for a while, staring at nothing, trying to piece herself back together.
Eventually, she forced herself to get ready for bed. Pajamas. Teeth brushed. Lights dimmed.
She curled beneath her blanket, phone on the nightstand, a kitchen knife tucked beneath her pillow—not because she thought she’d need it, but because she didn’t know what else to do.
Sleep didn’t come easy.
She drifted in and out, jolting awake at the slightest noise—a creak, a car door, the wind. At some point, she must’ve dozed off.
But just before dawn, something woke her.
A sound. Faint. Like paper sliding across the floor.
She sat up slowly, heart already racing.
She crept to the door, bare feet silent on the hardwood. A thin white strip poked out from under it.
A note.
She hesitated, then pulled it inside.
No name. No markings.
Just four words, written in thick, precise ink:
You looked scared. Why?
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- Writer
