I tried to convince myself I imagined it.
That he hadn't really been in my room, that my mind was playing tricks in the dark.
But the truth sat on my nightstand — the flower from my locker, now in a glass of water I didn't remember putting it in.
And then I started seeing him everywhere.
Not close enough to speak.
Just… there.
Across the street while I was leaving class.
In the back row of the café where I went to study.
By the fence at the park when I took the long way home.
Sometimes he would watch me openly, his gaze holding mine until I had to look away.
Sometimes I only caught a glimpse of him, a shadow disappearing around a corner — enough to make my pulse spike, enough to keep me searching for him the rest of the day.
It should have terrified me.
And it did. But it also left me restless when he wasn't there.
The worst was two nights ago.
I woke to my phone buzzing — an unknown number.
One message.
Red suits you. Wear it again.
I hadn't worn red in weeks.
Except… I had.
Yesterday. In my bedroom. When I thought I was alone.