I closed all the windows and locked the door, checking twice before signing the latch. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that I was safe inside the walls of my home, an uneasy feeling kept gnawing at me, growing stronger with every passing second. The silence around me felt too loud, almost as if the walls themselveswere conspiring against my peace of mind. Now with Preeti gone, I had no one to rely on in this neighborhood, and the thought made my chest tighten with frustration. Feeling helpless, I slumped into the chair, my fingers tangling in my hair as I tried to push away the flood of thoughts that kept circling in my mind. The events of the past few days played over and over, leaving me anxious and restless.
The whole night passed in a blur of half-sleep, half-awareness. No matter how much I willed myself to sleep, my mind refused to quiet down. Every small noise , the distant barking of a dog, the rustle of leaves outside, even the ticking of the clock, kept me alert, as though danger could strike at any moment. When morning finally arrived, the sunlight spilling through my curtains felt almost miraculous. I could feel its warmth on my skin, a gentle reassurance that maybe, just maybe, the world outside wasn't as threatening as my mind had made it out to be. For the first time in hours, I felt a tiny thread of calm.
I got up slowly, shaking off the remnants of a restless night, and went through my morning routine with mechanical precision. Brushing my teeth, washing my face, and preparing my breakfast all felt oddly normal, almost absurdly so, given how sleepless I had been. I caught my reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I overthink a lot," I whispered to myself, my words barely audible as I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the house to catch a taxi.
"Oh, hii Venisa!" someone called out, and I turned to see John, a friend from college, waving at me with his usual easy smile. A computer science student, he lived a few miles away, and we only occasionally crossed paths on our way to college. Still, seeing a familiar face brought a fleeting sense of comfort amidst my lingering unease. I returned his smile, grateful for the distraction.
"Hii! How's your hand?" I asked, remembering the bandage I had seen on his hand that Saturday. His eyebrows lifted, and he grinned, clearly amused by my concern.
"Did you notice that?" he said, a spark of happiness in his voice, as if my noticing mattered more than anything else. I tried to suppress my reaction, not wanting to give him too much encouragement, and replied casually, "Everyone did." He smiled anyway, a little triumphantly, as if my response had confirmed something he already knew.
"Are you free this evening?" he asked after a pause, hesitation shadowing his tone. I sighed inwardly, knowing exactly why he was asking.
"John, I told you. I have a boyfriend…" My voice trailed off as I tried to make it clear again that I wasn't interested. Even though I had rejected him two weeks ago, he didn't seem ready to let go. The way he looked at me, hopeful yet nervous, made my heart ache a little with the awkward tension between us.
The expression on his face shifted subtly, the brightness of his smile dimming. His voice, usually so confident, lowered to a quiet, almost vulnerable tone. "But you guys are not in touch anymore." My frown deepened at his words, a mix of surprise and confusion crossing my features.
"How do you know that?" I asked, my voice sharper than intended. He stared at me, unwavering, as though expecting me to answer, and I felt a strange, uncomfortable distance between us, as if I had never really known him at all despite years of acquaintance.
He let out a soft sigh, making me release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I liked you for so long," he admitted, "but I never revealed my feelings because I knew you had a boyfriend. But a few weeks ago, I accidentally heard you and your friends talking about his sudden disappearance. So I thought maybe you might consider my feelings."
I blinked, struck by the peculiar way he had phrased it. "He's not disappeared," I clarified. "It's just that he's not responding to my texts or calls." My voice was calm, though my mind churned with frustration and worry.
For several long, heavy moments, he didn't speak. His eyes locked onto mine with a fixity that sent an unexpected shiver crawling down my spine. It wasn't just the intensity of his stare, it was the way he seemed to study me, to weigh every small reaction, every twitch of expression, as if he could read my thoughts before I even had them. The quiet stretched, thick and suffocating, until the distant sounds of the street felt muted, swallowed by the gravity of his gaze. My chest tightened, and a cold knot of unease began to form in my stomach.
Then, finally, his voice cut through the silence, low and smooth, carrying a weight that felt almost predatory. "Isn't it the same thing?" he whispered, leaning slightly closer, and for a moment I wasn't sure if he was asking or daring me to answer. The words lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling, leaving a chill that refused to fade even as he leaned back, still watching me with that unnerving intensity.
___________
When I finally reached the college gate, I heard a familiar voice call out from behind me.
"Hey, Venisa!"
I turned, my hair brushing lightly against my shoulders as I caught sight of Jackson. His usual bright smile greeted me, and I couldn't help but return it with one of my own.
"Hii, Jackson! You came late today," I teased, raising a brow in mock disbelief.
He let out a small laugh, his long strides carrying him closer until he was right beside me.
"My car broke down on the way, so I had to take a taxi. But hey, I still managed to come on time. It's not technically late," he said with that confident little smirk of his.
I laughed softly at his counterattack. Of course, he was right. Jackson was one of the top students in our batch, the kind of person who always reached before everyone else, and definitely before me. The truth was, I had never once seen him actually arrive late. He was disciplined, reliable, and hardworking, qualities that made it easy to forget that he was the son of a man who owned one of the biggest E-business companies in the city. A second-generation rich guy, yes, but he never behaved like one. There was no arrogance in him, none of that careless entitlement that money often carried.
And yet, I couldn't stop myself from thinking, if my dad were as rich as his, maybe my life would have been easier. Maybe I wouldn't have been bullied, judged, or looked down upon. Jackson, though, hadn't been spared either. For all his intelligence, for all his quiet kindness, people used to bully him relentlessly. To them, he was just another nerd, a boy who didn't fit their shallow standards of masculinity.
For nearly an entire semester, I hadn't even known his name. He was the quiet one who stayed invisible, until one afternoon I stumbled across a scene that changed everything. A group of boys were circling him, spitting cruel words right in his face while he stood there, listening silently, not fighting back. The sight of it had infuriated me.
Without a second thought, I grabbed his hand and pulled him away from them. My voice had been sharp, laced with irritation, not at him, but at the audacity of those boys.
"Next time someone makes fun of you and you don't want to waste your energy on them, just get up and walk away. You've got legs for a reason. Use them."
One of the boys had burst into laughter at my words. "Aww, baby girl is trying to protect another nerd, huh?" he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" I shot back, my voice calm but firm, the kind of tone that always pissed insecure boys off. Sure enough, his expression darkened, and he stepped closer, towering over me as though he really intended to hit me.
"Oh, going to hit me now? Did I bruise your ego?" I tilted my head, refusing to step back. "What else can I expect from pampered boys who carry their fragile egos on their heads? Here's a tip, try a little mental exercise sometime. Who knows, maybe it'll make that fragile ego of yours stronger. Might even hurt less than it usually does."
I turned, ready to walk away, but before I could take a step, I felt a rough tug at my scalp. The boy had grabbed my hair and yanked me back so hard that pain shot through my head.
"You think you can just say anything to me and walk away?" he hissed, his grip tightening.
My eyes stung, but before I could react, I heard a voice, clear, angry, and trembling slightly with emotion.
"What's wrong with you?! Leave her!"
It was Jackson. For the first time, he had spoken up, his voice cutting through the chaos. His wide eyes burned with something I had never seen in him before.
I let out a hiss of pain, instinctively scratching at the boy's hand with my nails until his grip loosened. The second he faltered, Jackson pushed him back with a force I didn't know he had, fury flashing across his usually calm face.
But I couldn't let my own anger consume me. I took a step back, forcing myself to breathe. Just then, another one of the boys stepped forward, his voice loud enough for the others to hear.
"Let her go. She's John's friend."
The guy grabbing my hair looked at the person who said that. He gave him death glare and kicked the bench near him. Jackson grabbed ny forearm and took me away from them.
"Y-You didn't have to ---"
"Should I have to let them bully you and become a bystander? What a nice way to thank someone." I said it sarcastically to ease the tension between us. He smiled while looking at me and whispered " thank you"
The was the day when we become good friends. Since that day I never saw the guy who faught with me. Niw looking back I noticed the guy who bullied Jackson disappeared out of nowhere. "Hey! Venisa ? Venisa? What are you thinking? " I came out of my trance and saw Jackson was trying to get my attention maybe talking to me while I was recalling the past. I shook my head and asked casually...
"Do you remember the guy who bullied you.. ? We faught with him..what was his name?"
Jackson frowned in confusion and tilted his head trying to remember. " Jacob?"
"Yeah Jacob! Where he has gone? After that day we didn't see him. "
He frowned and nodded in agreement.
"I heard someone beaten him badly and after that no one saw him again. Maybe he shifted into another city. "
I listen without saying anything. I needed to know about him since someone is trying to scare me then it must be someone who probably doesn't like to see me in peace.
________
My house was quiet when I arrived, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every small sound feel amplified. Jojo curled up on the sofa, his little head lifting briefly to watch me with tired, trusting eyes. I knelt down to scratch behind his ears, and he let out a soft sigh of contentment, curling back into his blanket as if nothing in the world could touch him. The little weight of his presence was the only comfort I had, a tether to normalcy in a day that had felt too long, too empty.
I set my phone to charge and shrugged off the day's stress, heading to the closet to pick out clothes for a bath. The routine was simple, almost mechanical, yet comforting. For a moment, I let myself imagine slipping into the warm water, washing away the tension of the day. Jojo's gentle breathing and the distant hum of the city outside were soothing. I even let myself smile faintly.
And then, my phone buzzed.
The screen flashed an unknown number.
My heart skipped a beat. My fingers froze over the phone, the screen glowing ominously in the dim light of the apartment.
Message
"Hey Venisa! It's your secret admirer."
A shiver ran down my spine, sharp and cold. How did this person have my number? How did they know anything about me? Panic started to rise, tight and suffocating, crawling along my chest like an icy hand.
I stared at the words, disbelief and a flicker of humor mingling briefly before fear settled in. A secret admirer? That had to be a joke or a prank. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.
"Secret admirer? More like a stalker."
The reply came almost instantly, faster than anyone could type.
Message
"Call me whatever you want, my love."
My mind scrambled -college, friends, social media…Jacob? no, he wouldn't call me sweet names or call himself my admirer, none of it explained this. None of it made sense.
I tried to block the number, relief beginning to form as if this could finally end the terror. But almost immediately, another message appeared.
Message
"Don't you dare block me. Or I won't wait long to come to you."
I froze again. The casual threat in their words made my stomach twist painfully. How could they know my address? How could they know I was home? My hands shook as I gripped the phone, my pulse hammering in my ears.
To be continued