The Boy Who Knows My Name

The first time I heard him say my name, I thought it was an accident. “Lila.” It slipped through the noise of the hallway like it didn’t belong there—too soft, too certain. Like whoever said it wasn’t trying to get my attention, but already had it. I turned, expecting to see someone I knew. Maybe Kemi, maybe Dara, maybe one of the girls from my literature class. But no one was looking at me. Lockers slammed. Someone laughed too loudly. A boy jogged past, nearly bumping into my shoulder without apologizing. Everything was normal—too normal. I frowned, adjusting my grip on my bag. “Okay… weird.” I started walking again, slower this time, listening more carefully. Halfway down the corridor— “Lila.” I stopped. This time, I was sure. I turned sharply. “Who’s calling me?” A few heads turned. Not many. Just enough to make my cheeks warm. A girl leaning against a locker blinked at me. “Calling you?” “Yes,” I said, more defensive than I meant to sound. “Someone just said my name.” She shrugged. “Not me.” I scanned the hallway again, heart beating faster now—not from fear exactly, but from something I couldn’t explain. It didn’t feel like a prank. It didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt… intentional. By the time I got home, I had almost convinced myself I imagined it. Almost. I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and headed straight for the kitchen. “Mum?” I called. No answer. I checked the living room—empty. Typical. She was probably still at work. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, leaning against the counter as I scrolled through my phone. That’s when I heard it again. “Lila.” The glass slipped from my hand. It didn’t shatter—just hit the sink with a dull crack—but the sound barely registered. Because this time… I was alone. I turned slowly, my breath catching in my throat. “Hello?” Silence. The house felt different suddenly. Too quiet. Like it was listening. “Who’s there?” I asked, louder now. Nothing. I checked every room. Living room—empty. Bathroom—empty. My mum’s room—empty. By the time I got to my bedroom, my chest was tight. I pushed the door open carefully. Nothing. No one. I let out a shaky breath and laughed under it. “Okay. I’m officially losing it.” I stepped inside, closing the door behind me— “Lila.” I spun around so fast I nearly tripped. “No,” I said immediately. “No, no, no. This isn’t funny anymore.” My voice sounded too loud in the small room. “Show yourself,” I demanded, even though my hands were trembling. Silence. Then— “I am.” I froze. That voice… it wasn’t coming from behind me. Or in front of me. It was just… there. Close. “I don’t see you,” I whispered. “That’s because you’re not looking the right way.” My heart pounded. “What does that even mean?” No answer. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to think. “Okay,” I said slowly. “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny.” “I know.” The reply came instantly. Calm. Almost gentle. That made it worse. “Then what is it?” I asked. A pause. And for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then— “It’s me.” I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That doesn’t help at all.” Another pause. Then, quieter this time— “You don’t remember me.” The words landed strangely. Not like a question. Like a fact. Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten, like I was supposed to understand—but didn’t. “I can’t remember someone I’ve never met,” I said. “You have.” “I haven’t.” “You did,” he insisted softly. “Just… not here.” A chill ran down my spine. “Not where?” I asked. But the room had gone silent again. Completely silent. I stood there for a long time, staring at nothing. Waiting. Listening. But he didn’t say my name again. Not that day. That night, I barely slept. Every little sound made me sit up. Every shadow felt like it was about to move. But underneath the fear, there was something else. Something I didn’t want to admit. Curiosity. Because no matter how strange it was… No matter how impossible it sounded… One thing kept replaying in my mind. The way he said my name. Not like a stranger. Not like a mistake. But like it belonged to him, too.