Chapter Twelve: The Edge of Stillness
424 Words
The city didn’t feel the same anymore.
Port Harcourt’s familiar noise—the restless horns, the chatter of vendors, the life—was still there. But to Maya, it all felt... muffled. Like she was walking underwater, every sound distorted, every color faded.
Fear did that. It crept into your senses and rewrote everything.
She kept her phone pressed close, checking it constantly, like Luca’s name could anchor her. But she hadn’t replied to his last message.
Not yet.
She didn’t know how.
Instead, she moved like a ghost, drifting through her routines. Buying fruit. Visiting the art center. Smiling just enough so no one asked too many questions.
Until that afternoon at the market.
She reached into her bag to pay for tomatoes, and her fingers brushed something foreign.
A folded piece of paper.
No stamp. No name. Just tucked between her sketchbook and her wallet.
Her hands trembled.
The paper was blank—except for one line.
“You’re still beautiful when you’re afraid.”
---
She didn’t tell Chika.
She couldn’t.
So she went to the studio.
Luca saw her the moment she stepped in. Her eyes were wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Her hands were curled into fists.
“Maya?”
“I need... a wall. Paint. Something to do.”
He didn’t ask. He pointed to a canvas.
She picked up a brush and began to smear broad strokes of black and violet and blue, layering them over each other until it looked like night swallowing itself.
He worked beside her in silence. Only when she paused to breathe did he speak.
“He’s trying to scare you.”
She didn’t answer.
“I won’t let him,” he added.
She turned to him. Her voice cracked.
“You can’t promise that.”
“No. But I can promise you won’t face it alone.”
---
That night, Maya locked every window.
She curled under her blanket with her sketchpad. Drew Luca’s eyes. Chika’s hands. Her own face, twisted in confusion. Then a shadow behind it all.
She tried to sleep.
Tried to believe she was safe.
But at 2:16 a.m., a knock sounded.
Not loud.
Three taps. A pause. Two more.
Familiar.
Maya’s breath hitched.
She didn’t open the door. She just waited.
Eventually, silence returned. And at dawn, when the sun began to push at the edges of her curtain, she found it—an envelope at her doorstep.
No name. No markings.
Inside, a single word written in sharp black ink:
“Found you.”
- Writer
