The mattress didn’t just dip.
It gave-slow, steady, like someone was putting their weight down with care. Not fast. Not clumsy. Controlled. Intentional. The kind of movement that only happens when a body knows exactly where to place itself.
The sheets barely shifted, but I felt it. Not with my skin. With something deeper-something wired into fear.
A breath I didn’t mean to hold froze in my throat. My lashes stayed lowered. My fingers stayed still against my chest, like they belonged to a doll someone had posed.
I didn’t dare blink.
I didn’t dare twitch.
I didn’t dare exist.
The dip grew heavier. Closer. The mattress sank again, just an inch, just enough to tell me he wasn’t standing anymore.
He was sitting.
Right behind me.
Right on the same bed.
The air moved-not a sound, n
