Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, soft but empty of warmth. Sleep hadn’t come easily after the messages last night.

“Miss Flora,” Sofi called from outside the door, “your breakfast is ready.”

“Coming,” came the faint reply.

The image from the night before lingered, the photo of the road, the warning not to take it. At the time, it seemed like some strange prank… until news of the accident broke.

Uncle Denny confirmed it before leaving for work. “Construction’s started already, Miss. The surface cracked after the crash. They’ll repair it in a few days.”

A chill crept through the quiet. Someone had known what would happen before anyone else did.

Who would know something like that and why send it to her?

---

At school, whispers drifted through the corridors like dust in sunlight. Everyone had heard about the breakup with Austin.

“She’s pretending to ignore him.”

“She’s probably trying to make him jealous.”

The usual nonsense.

None of it mattered. Every time the phone buzzed, a pulse of unease followed, half dread, half hope for another message. But the screen stayed dark.

By lunch, that silence had become its own kind of noise, sharp and restless. Maybe the sender had stopped watching. Maybe they’d moved on.

Or maybe they hadn’t.

---

After class, the car waited as usual. Flora slid into the back seat and quietly told Uncle Denny to take a different route. The thought of passing Riverway Road again made her palms damp.

All through the ride, her gaze stayed on the phone. Still no messages. No calls.

By the time they reached home, a fragile calm began to take shape. Perhaps whoever it was really had meant no harm, just a warning, nothing more.

Still, the thought kept circling back: what if it wasn’t just a warning?

What if they knew more like where she lived, where she walked, what time she left?

Homework blurred unread before her eyes. Dinner went untouched. Even the soft lamplight made the mansion’s corners feel too deep, too quiet.

When Sofi asked if she wanted tea, she only shook her head. “I’ll take a walk instead.”

“At this hour?” Sofi frowned. “It’s almost evening.”

“Just for a bit. I need some air.”

---

She didn’t take the car this time. The park wasn’t far, a quieter one near the residential district, lined with low fences and old streetlamps that flickered before dusk. Her steps echoed softly along the pavement, careful and deliberate, every sound stretching in the evening air.

The chill brushed against her skin, bringing with it the faint scent of wet soil and jasmine. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her mind spinning in circles she couldn’t quiet.

 This was foolish. Reckless, even.

Every voice of reason told her to stay home to lock the doors, to act as if nothing was wrong. But she couldn’t rest, not after the silence. The absence of messages felt heavier than the messages themselves.

If the person watching her had only followed her outside, if they could see her when she left but not once she returned, then the mansion was still safe. That had to be it.

 “I just need to be sure,” she murmured under her breath, clutching her phone a little tighter.

The decision to walk here hadn’t been impulsive; it was something close to a test. A quiet experiment in fear.

If they were truly watching her… she would know.

If no message came, then maybe, just maybe ___ it was over.

Her shoes brushed through fallen petals scattered along the sidewalk. Every passing car made her flinch, every stranger’s glance felt too long. Yet, a part of her, the part that refused to be controlled by shadows forced her onward.

When she reached the park gate, dusk had thickened around her. The sound of children still lingered from the swings, their laughter light and ordinary enough to ease the grip in her chest. She followed the path toward the benches, beneath trees that swayed gently in the wind.

No shadow trailed her. No strange figure lingered at the edge of her vision.

Maybe she had been right, the watcher existed only beyond her home, only in that road she’d been warned not to take.

The thought released something heavy in her chest. Her shoulders relaxed as she sank onto a bench, letting the air settle around her.

Opening her sketchbook, she let the pencil move, a habit more than an intent, tracing the outline of a tree, then the curve of its branches bending in the breeze. The rhythm of drawing steadied her breathing.

For a few quiet minutes, it almost felt like peace.

The wind brushed through her hair, carrying the faint scent of roses from a nearby bush. The light dimmed further, soft and golden.

And then, from behind her, a voice, calm, deep, and unfamiliar, broke through the stillness.

 "You shouldn’t be here when it’s getting dark."

The words froze her where she sat, almost identical to the warning she’d received the night before.

She turned sharply, trying to see his face, but the lamps along the path flickered again, leaving him half in shadow.

 “Do I… know you?”

He hesitated — just long enough to make her pulse trip — then shook his head once.

“No. But it’s better if you go home.”

And before she could ask another word, he walked away.

Her phone stayed silent.

No messages. No alerts. Only that same, heavy stillness.

She stared down at her trembling hands, unsure which truth frightened her more that he might have been the one sending the warnings, or that someone else still was.

For the first time, fear and relief felt indistinguishable.

---

While she tried to sleep that night, across town a quiet decision was being made—

one that would soon bring a stranger into her home.