Chapter 2: Whispers in the Shadows

Maya stepped out of Café Lume and into the cold embrace of the night. The rain had eased into a mist, wrapping the city in a ghostly shroud. Her thoughts lingered on Aidan, his cryptic warning replaying in her mind. Be careful tonight.

The words felt like a thread tugging at the edges of her reality, unravelling the ordinary into something darker. She shook her head, scolding herself. You’re being dramatic. He was probably just being polite—or odd.

Yet, as she walked the few blocks to her apartment, a strange sensation prickled the back of her neck. The streets were quieter than usual, the rhythmic slap of her boots on the wet pavement the only sound. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see someone there.

Nothing. Just the flicker of a streetlamp struggling against the damp air.

When she reached her building, Maya paused at the door. Her keys trembled slightly in her hand. "Get it together," she muttered, shoving the key into the lock.

The lobby was dimly lit, its usual warmth muted by her unease. She took the stairs—she always did, even though the elevator worked just fine. The habit had started as a way to stay active but had evolved into something she couldn’t explain, a superstition she couldn’t shake.

On the third-floor landing, she froze.

Her apartment door was ajar.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as a rush of adrenaline coursed through her. She was sure she had locked it before leaving.

She took a step closer, straining to hear any sound from within. Silence. Too much silence.

Maya reached into her bag, her fingers brushing the cold metal of her pepper spray. She took a deep breath and nudged the door open wider.

The living room was untouched, her books stacked neatly on the shelves, her blanket still draped over the couch. But something felt off.

The air was heavy, as if the apartment had been holding its breath.

She moved cautiously toward her bedroom, her grip tightening on the pepper spray. The door was half-closed, and she pushed it open with her foot.

Her stomach dropped.

On the bed lay a single red rose, its petals stark against the white sheets. Beside it was a folded piece of paper.

Maya didn’t touch it at first. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of an intruder. The window was locked, the closet door ajar but empty.

Finally, she picked up the note, her hands trembling.

You don’t know who to trust, do you?

Her breath hitched. The handwriting was unfamiliar, sharp and deliberate, each letter carefully crafted.

Panic surged, but she forced herself to think. She grabbed her phone and dialed the police, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat.

Within minutes, two officers arrived. They swept through the apartment, asking her questions she could barely answer.

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" one of them asked, his tone professional but concerned.

Maya shook her head. "No... I don’t think so."

The officer frowned. "Any recent breakups? Arguments? Someone who might hold a grudge?"

Her mind went to Ethan, but she dismissed the thought. He was many things, but not this. At least, she didn’t think so.

"No," she said finally.

"We’ll file a report," the officer said. "But if you think of anything—or anyone—let us know immediately. In the meantime, stay somewhere safe. It’s clear someone wanted to send you a message."

After they left, Maya sat on her couch, staring at the rose as if it might come alive and reveal its secrets. She thought of Aidan’s warning, the way his voice had carried a weight she hadn’t understood.

Could he have known about this?

She wanted to dismiss the idea—it was absurd. But something about him gnawed at her, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit but refused to be ignored.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her out of her thoughts. It was a text from an unknown number.

Did you like the rose?

Her blood ran cold.

She stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she didn’t know what to say—or if she should respond at all.

Before she could decide, another message appeared.

We’re just getting started, Maya.

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