**Isabella pov** :

It started with a strange feeling, quiet pull—like my skin could sense the gaze of someone unseen.

For the past month, I’ve felt it ,someone is watching me.

I don’t want to believe it. I’ve never felt this way before.

But it’s not just paranoia.

It’s a presence.

I always sit in the same spot—my bedroom window. It’s my favorite place in the world.

The light pours in just right, the wind carries soft whispers of birdsong, and from there, I can see the sky stretching into forever. Below that, my little garden breathes with colors I planted myself—fragile, living proof that I still believe in beauty.

But beauty doesn’t exist without its shadaw...

There is a house...which is no different from a hunted house..

it was dull looked old and forgotten.

Its paint was peeling off, and the walls were cracked. The windows were broken or covered in dirt, making it hard to see inside...The garden was wild, with long grass and dead trees. Everything felt quiet, but not in a good way—like something was hiding and watching. It was not just a house but a old mansion.... It was the kind of place that made you want to leave quickly....

And that house is been abandoned for five years. People say it’s cursed—haunted. A family of three died there, Murdered. No one had the courage to step inside since....

Until last month. Someone moved in. No one saw the face. Just a figure—tall, cloaked in a long coat, with a broad shoulders ,a tall figure and haunted eyes, barely glimpsed through gaps in the curtains.

My neighbors whispered about him saying he is wired man, warning us to be careful as he is our neighbour now and not to get curious. My mother said the same. But it was too late.....

Because something about him called to me.... I'm curious..

I haven’t seen him clearly. Not once. But I feel him.

When I sit at my window, a shiver crawls down my spine—as though his shadow stretches from his window into mine. As if his gaze wraps itself around my body, slowly... possessively.

It’s not just fear.

It’s something darker.

Something magnetic.

And then tonight... I saw him....the shadow man....

A shadowed figure, standing right there at the window—staring straight at me.

He wasn’t hiding.

He wasn’t pretending.

He wanted me to see him.

And I did....yes

I did... curiousity kills...

My body went numb. A cold rush ran down my spine, as if the air itself recoiled from his presence. Yet I couldn't look away.

There was something in his stillness—something almost... tragic. Powerful. I felt as though I was the only one who could see him, like his presence revealed itself only to me, through some unspoken bond neither of us could explain.

He didn’t move.

He just watched.

And the terrifying truth is—I didn’t want him to stop looking....

And I know I'm crazy...

shadow pov :

I swore I’d never come back to this house.

But here I am.

Fate has a twisted sense of humor.

This place once echoed with laughter, warm light, the scent of old books and burnt toast—memories of a family that no longer exists.

Now, the walls creak with silence, and the shadows are the only company I keep.

I didn’t return for healing.

I returned because there was nowhere else left for me to disappear.

I’ve made it a point to stay unseen.

I never wanted the attention of the neighbors—they whisper too much, they stare too long.

So I keep the lights off.

I move in silence.

I let the darkness become my skin.

I’m not bored.

Just... empty.

Lonely in a way that doesn’t ache anymore—it just exist . And then I saw her.....

Through the thin veil of my curtain, she appeared—a girl, sitting in her window across the street.

She had her blonde hair thrown into a messy bun, like she didn’t care how the world saw her.

Round, white-framed glasses slipped slightly down her nose, and she wore an oversized shirt that fell off one shoulder, paired with loose grey pants.

Ordinary.

That’s what someone else might say.

But to me—she was terrifyingly beautiful.

Not because of how she looked.

But because I felt something stir in me for the first time in years.

She was light—soft, untouched, real.

And I... I was the shadow rotting in the corner of a haunted house.

I should’ve looked away.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

She saw me too.

Not clearly, but enough to know someone was there.

And instead of flinching, she stared back—curious, uncertain, and alive.

Her presence scratched at something buried deep inside me.

A memory, a hunger.

Maybe even a warning.

Because girls like her don’t belong in stories like mine.

And men like me should never be allowed to want again.

But here we are—watching each other through windows.

And I fear one day I won’t be able to just watch anymore.

I’ll step into the light.

And she’ll see the monster the dark was hiding....

I kept Watching her daily night....just like the hunter wanting to hunt his prey...*smirk*

..........................

Isabella pov : The silent

Who is he?

It's been nearly month I'm trying to know that figure behind the glass window...

The man who doesn’t blink. Who doesn’t hide.

We stared at each other again tonight.

I don’t know why I keep going to the window.

Maybe I’m drawn to danger. Or maybe I’m already part of it.

At first, I told myself it was harmless curiosity.

But that lie is beginning to rot.

Because now, I feel something deeper. Something I can’t explain.

I should be scared. And I am. But it’s not fear that keeps me frozen.

His presence is overwhelming—even from behind the window...

He doesn't wave. Doesn’t speak.

But his eyes… I feel them dragging over me like ice down my spine.

Still. Unmoving. Consuming.

It’s like he sees through the layers I keep hidden from everyone else.

As if he knows I’m not as delicate as I appear.

Tonight was different.

I was about to close my curtain—finally walk away—when I saw it. I saw it....

A movement.

His hand... raised. Slowly. Deliberately.

He traced something on the glass with his finger. A symbol. A letter. I couldn’t see it clearly.

And then—his shadow disappeared..

Just like that.

He is Gone...

A hollow silence swallowed the house, and suddenly the night felt too quiet. Too still...

And yet, I couldn’t move...I don't know why I wasn't feeling right...

Because in that moment, I felt it.

He was no longer behind the window.

Something shifted.

My heart began to race—not from romance, not from nerves.

From instinct.

Like prey sensing the hunter.

The shadows outside my own house thickened, and I swore I saw movement near the edge of the garden...

Was it him?

Was he inside my walls....

No.

It couldn’t be.

Right?

I told myself it was nothing. I shut the curtain, backed away, locked my bedroom door.

But I can’t sleep.

Not with the thought that maybe... just maybe...

he’s not behind the windows anymore.

Maybe the shadows I feel now... are already inside....

*Chillness*

Shadow pov :

I Watched her tonight—longer than I should have.

She always lingers at the window longer than she intends to..

And I know she feels me.

She sees the shadow.

The weight of my silence.

The shape of something unholy cloaked in human skin.

But she doesn't run.

That both intrigues and terrifies me.

Because she doesn't understand what it means to be watched by something like me.

Not yet. But she will.

I was never supposed to return to this place.

But something pulled me back here.

Something... or someone.

Her presence has awakened something I buried long ago—before the blood, before the screams, before the house became a grave of memory.

Now, I can’t stay behind the window anymore.

I’ve crossed that line in my mind a hundred times.

Tonight, I’ll do it for real.

My footsteps are soundless against the old wooden floor.

The house groans beneath me like it remembers pain.

The shadows move with me—as if they're alive, clinging to my skin like smoke.

When I reach the edge of my property, I pause.

Her light is still on.

Her window open just enough to whisper to the wind.

A careless detail. Or maybe a silent invitation.

She has no idea what she's inviting in.

I step infront of the wall which stood proudly between us..

I just jumped on other side of the wall were I landed on her beautiful garden..

It was silent and empty... She stays alone..

It's very convenient for my hunt * smirk*

I don’t knock.

I don’t call her name.

I wouldn't dare shatter the illusion with something so human.

Instead, I leave a note on her windowsill—just one word, scrawled in ink darker than night:

"Soon."my petal...

The paper flutters slightly in the breeze, like a heartbeat.

I don’t wait for her to see it.

I already know she will.

Because I’ve been in the dark long enough.

And now, it’s time to bring her into it.

.....................

Isabella pov : A note on the windowsill

I didn’t sleep. Not a second.

All night, I felt something pressing at the edges of my room—not quite footsteps, not quite sound.

Just a sensation… like being surrounded by breath I couldn’t hear.

The kind of silence that feels like it's watching you.

I kept the curtains drawn, but I couldn’t stop staring.

Not at that house...

But at the darkness just outside my own...

I kept telling myself I was imagining things.

That my mind was playing tricks.

That he couldn’t have moved from that window. That he wouldn't... come closer.

But deep down, I knew something had shifted.

When morning finally came, I pulled the curtain back slowly, like a child expecting a monster in my garden. The sun painted everything in soft gold—but somehow, it didn’t feel safe.

And then I saw it.

A piece of paper.

Tucked neatly on the edge of my bedroom windowsill. Inside...

My heart stopped. My blood turned to ice.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t run.

I just stood there, trembling, staring at it like it might bite. It was folded once, no envelope, no signature.

My hands shook as I reached for it, fingertips grazing the paper like it might dissolve—or burst into flame.

One word. Just one.

"Soon."my petal.  That was it.

Written in slanted ink, like it had been carved from shadow.

I dropped it like it burned.How did it get here? My window was closed last night. I locked my bedroom door......I know I did...

My breath hitched. My mind raced with answers I didn’t want.

He was here. While I was sleeping. Watching me.

Close enough to touch the glass…

Close enough to touch me.

The fear crawled under my skin like frost.

But so did something else. Curiosity.

A pulse of something electric. Something wrong.

Why does part of me want to read that word again?

Soon...."My PETAL "

It felt like a promise. Or a warning.

I backed away from the window and pressed my back to the wall, clutching my knees to my chest.

I should tell someone.

I should scream.

I should move.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, I think I already know the truth:

This isn’t over.

This is only the beginning...*gulps*