He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a loud screech. A flash of movement outside caught his attention. He froze. Through the peephole of the front door, he saw it—a figure, standing in the hallway, perfectly still. It wasn’t someone he knew. He hadn’t heard any footsteps, no knock at the door, yet the figure was there, watching. 

The man moved slightly, his eyes briefly flicking toward Ethan’s door. Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, and then, to his shock, the man looked directly at the peephole. It felt like their eyes met for a moment—unnervingly intense, like the man could see him. 

A wave of panic hit Ethan’s stomach, sharp and sudden. His body froze, and he quickly dropped to the floor, hiding away from the door as if the man could see through it. His heart raced, and he felt sick with fear. 

His breath caught in his throat. For a moment, everything seemed to stretch into eternity. His hand hovered near the door handle, He slowly got back to his feet but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. The man outside disappeared around the corner. But the feeling that he was being watched didn’t go away. 

Shaking, he whispered, "New neighbours. No doubt about it." He pressed his back against the wall, chest tight, hands shaking as he reached for his phone again. This time, he didn’t call Naomi. Instead, he opened the app with his most recent manuscript. 

Ethan stared at the screen, the cursor blinking on the blank page, but he couldn’t bring himself to write. Not now. Not when the shadow outside his door was only the beginning.