Twisted Valentine

Shadowed

✽ Mandy ✽

I woke up late, and the time on my phone made my stomach drop.

17:31

Class at Blackthorne Institute of Pastry Arts started at six. My diner schedule decided when I could attend, and tonight was one of the few openings I had. Missing it meant falling behind, and I couldn’t afford that. I got dressed in a rush. I clipped my hair back and pulled on a sweater. I shoved my notebook and recipe cards into my bag before I grabbed my keys and my bus card. I ran down the stairs and rushed outside. The early evening air was cold, and the streetlights were already on. I headed for the bus stop, and I knew I was cutting it close. All I could do was tell myself that I would make it.

I didn’t.

As I rounded the corner, I saw the bus start to pull away. I jogged after it anyway, but the doors stayed closed, and the taillights vanished into traffic. I stopped and glanced around. I was breathing hard, and then I checked the schedule on the pole.

Next bus: 18:30

I refused to accept it. The next stop was down the road, and sometimes the bus slowed at the light. I made a quick decision and made a run for it. My bag bounced on my hip, and my lungs burned. But when I reached the stop, the bus hadn’t even slowed down.

It was gone.

I stood there, bent forward, trying to recover. A couple waited on the other end of the bench, calm and quiet, like my panic was invisible. I sat down and stared at the street. Tonight was supposed to be laminated dough practice. I had been thinking about it all day, about getting the folds right, about finally feeling capable. Blackthorne Institute of Pastry Arts was the first place in the city that made me feel like I belonged. It smelled like sugar and clean steel, and the kitchens were bright enough to show every mistake. I had signed up because I wanted more than diner shifts and late tips. I wanted to walk into a kitchen and know what I was doing, hands steady, mind clear. Missing class felt like a big step backward. As if the universe was reminding me that my life was small. Now I had nothing to do but sit with my mistake. I pulled my phone out and stared at my timetable again. Nothing changed. I let the screen go dark.

That was when I felt it.

Like someone was watching me.

I lifted my head and looked around. Cars passed. People moved along the sidewalks, bundled in coats, focused on their own evenings. A man smoked near a storefront. A cyclist rolled by. No one stared. No one looked out of place. But the feeling didn’t leave. It made me sit straighter, and I gripped my bag tightly against my chest. I scanned the street again, slower this time as I checked all the doorways, all the parked cars, and every dark corner. Across the street, someone stood near the bus shelter, half hidden behind an advertisement panel. I couldn’t see a face, only a shape. When a car passed, and the light shifted, the person was gone, like they had stepped back or walked away. My heart thumped anyway, hard and sudden.

I was just being paranoid.

I told myself it was nothing. People moved. Shadows changed. That was how streets worked. I stood up and started walking home. I chose a route with more streetlights, even though it took longer. I kept my keys in my hand, annoyed with myself but unwilling to stop. Halfway there, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, ready to face whoever was following me. A woman walked past with a dog, and she barely glanced at me. I faced forward again, embarrassed, but the tight feeling in my chest stayed. My building came into view, the old brick place with the front door that never shut right. I slowed as I got closer. Someone was at the entrance.

Jason.

He wasn’t wearing his diner uniform. He had a dark coat on, and one hand was on the door like he had just unlocked it. He slipped inside without looking back. I froze on the sidewalk. Jason didn’t belong here. I had never seen him near my building before, and my brain insisted it had to be a coincidence. I watched the door, waiting for him to step back out.

He didn’t.

The street stayed normal. A car splashed through a puddle. Someone laughed somewhere down the block. I stood there until the cold pushed me into motion. I crossed the sidewalk and shoved the door open. It stuck, like always. The lobby smelled like old carpet and cleaning spray, and the light above the mailboxes flickered. I looked toward the stairs. But there was no one. I listened for footsteps. But there was nothing. Just the sound of my beating heart. I glanced at the mailboxes and the faded names, then looked away before I could feel more ridiculous, as I silently scolded myself for being so paranoid. I turned to the stairs and made my way up to my floor. I kept my pace steady as I tried to force myself not to hurry. When I reached my floor, I slowed my steps and listened. But I heard nothing but silence.

“Stop it,” I muttered to myself as I unlocked my apartment door. As soon as I was inside, I breathed out a sigh of relief. But I couldn’t shake the creeping feeling. Had that been Jason? If it was, why was he here? Was he visiting someone? Was he looking for me? That thought came too fast, and I hated it. I didn’t like imagining myself as part of someone else’s plan. I texted Rosa before I could talk myself out of it.

✉Mandy: Hey, is Jason at work? I swear I just saw him go into my apartment building. He doesn’t live here.

I waited, and after a moment, three little dots started to bounce at the bottom of the screen. A second later, her message popped up.

✉Rosa: Hey, we have the same night off, Mandy. I wouldn’t overthink it. Besides, we don’t even know him. Maybe he has friends there. Try to relax. I’ll see you tomorrow.

I read it twice. It wasn’t helpful, but it was something. I went to the window and pulled the curtain back just enough to see the entrance. People came and went. A woman carried groceries. A guy walked a dog. I didn’t see Jason. I let the curtain fall. Missing class made me angry. Seeing Jason here made me uneasy. Neither of those feelings had a clear place to go. I made tea and sat on the edge of the couch. I held the cup between my hands and enjoyed the warmth. In the hallway outside my door, something creaked, maybe a floorboard, maybe a door closing. I held still and listened, but all I could hear was silence. I wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with me, but I needed to snap out of it.

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