Chapter 2: Shadows In The Glass
1029 Words
Sleep didn’t come easily.
Amara lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the faint glow of the city filtering through her blinds. Her mind spun with fragments of the day — the move, Selene’s teasing, the way she’d sworn she’d seen eyes in the dark. She told herself it was exhaustion. A trick of the mind.
But every creak of the floorboards, every hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, set her nerves on edge.
At three a.m., she gave up. She padded to the kitchen, made herself a mug of chamomile tea, and sat by the window. The city lights twinkled, distant and indifferent. Somewhere below, a car horn blared, followed by laughter. Life went on.
“New beginnings,” she whispered to herself, forcing the words like a mantra. “Fresh start. No more ghosts.”
Her phone buzzed on the counter. Selene, predictably.
You alive, or did the moving boxes eat you?
Amara smiled faintly and typed back:
Alive. Insomnia. The usual.
The three dots popped up instantly.
Girl, you need to stop letting your brain win. Put on a dumb reality show and knock yourself out.
Can’t sleep with the TV on. Too much noise.
Oh, but stalking your own misery is peaceful?
Amara rolled her eyes, though the text tugged a laugh from her. Selene was good at that — yanking her out of spirals with a mix of wit and blunt honesty.
I’m fine. Promise.
You’re not fine, Amara. You just got divorced. Your whole life turned upside down. No one expects you to be fine. Stop pretending.
Her throat tightened. Selene knew how to cut through her defenses, which was both a blessing and a curse.
Amara typed slower this time:
I’ll get there. I have to.
Selene didn’t reply immediately, and for a moment Amara thought she’d scared her friend off with her honesty. Then the bubble reappeared.
I know you will. And I’ll drag you there if I have to. Now go to bed before I climb into my car and drive over at 3:30 in the morning like some desperate rom-com character.
Amara laughed softly, setting her phone aside. She loved Selene more than she could say. But no amount of banter could erase the pit in her stomach, the sense that she wasn’t alone.
She turned back toward the window — and froze.
There. Across the street.
At first she thought it was a trick of the shadows, but the longer she looked, the more certain she became. A figure stood half-hidden behind a lamppost. Too still. Watching.
Her breath hitched. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. The figure was gone.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
“You’re imagining things,” she whispered. “You’re tired. That’s all.”
But deep down, she didn’t believe it.
The next afternoon, Selene barged into her apartment carrying two oversized lattes and a bag of muffins.
“You look like death,” she announced, handing Amara the coffee. “And not the sexy vampire kind.”
“Gee, thanks,” Amara muttered.
Selene dropped onto the couch, crossing her legs. “When was the last time you had eight hours of sleep?”
Amara shrugged. “College, maybe?”
“That was ten years ago. No wonder you’re seeing things.”
Amara stiffened. “I never said I was seeing things.”
Selene raised a perfectly arched brow. “You didn’t have to. You’ve got that look — wide eyes, checking over your shoulder, waiting for Freddy Krueger to pop out of your closet.”
Amara tried to laugh it off, but it came out thin. She didn’t want to tell Selene about the figure by the lamppost, or the way she’d felt someone’s eyes burning into her last night. She sounded crazy even to herself.
Selene reached over, squeezing her hand. “Hey. I know you’re going through hell, but you’re stronger than this. You left Daniel, you started over, you’re doing all the hard stuff. You’ll get past the shadows, too.”
Daniel.
The name was enough to sour her stomach. She hadn’t heard from him in weeks, and she wanted it to stay that way. But as if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed with a new message.
She glanced at the screen. Her heart dropped.
Daniel: We need to talk.
Her hand went cold.
Selene leaned closer, reading over her shoulder. “Delete it. Block him. He’s a walking red flag with legs.”
Amara swallowed hard. “What if it’s important?”
“What if it’s manipulation, like always?” Selene shot back. “Do not let him back in.”
She wanted to agree. She wanted to erase him from her life like chalk on a board. But curiosity dug its claws in. What could he possibly want now?
“I’ll think about it,” Amara murmured, slipping the phone into her pocket.
Selene groaned. “Fine. Think. But don’t you dare answer him until you’ve thought hard enough to grow a few gray hairs.”
Amara smiled faintly, though unease still gnawed at her.
That night, she stood at the bathroom sink brushing her teeth, telling herself everything was fine. Selene was right — she was just overtired. That was all.
But as she turned off the light and padded toward her bedroom, something caught her attention.
Her reflection in the hallway mirror.
It wasn’t just her own eyes staring back at her.
For a fraction of a second, she swore she saw another pair of eyes — golden, burning — layered over hers. The air in her lungs turned to ice.
She blinked, heart pounding, and the vision vanished. Just her reflection again.
“Get a grip, Amara,” she whispered, hugging herself. “You’re losing it.”
She climbed into bed, leaving the lamp on this time. Sleep came in restless snatches.
And then, sometime past midnight, it happened.
A whisper. Soft. Intimate. Right against her ear.
“Amara…”
Her eyes snapped open, terror coursing through her veins. The room was empty.
But she knew what she’d heard.
And someone — or something — knew her name.
- Writer
