chapter 1 : The window and watcher

**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...

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