The bell above the café door jingled as the last customer left, and Aria exhaled a sigh of relief. The clock above the counter read 10:37 p.m.—later than usual, but the night shifts always ended in quiet.
"Go home before you turn into a zombie," Jess teased as she untied her apron. "You've got that glassy-eyed look again."
Aria laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's just my natural charm."
Jess rolled her eyes and waved goodnight, leaving Aria to close up alone. The café always felt different at night—quieter, heavier somehow, like the silence carried weight. Still, she liked it. The smell of roasted beans lingered, the hum of the espresso machine kept her company.
By the time she stepped into the chilly street, the air smelled of rain and pavement. She pulled her scarf higher and started the familiar ten-minute walk to her apartment.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Maya: Still alive? Or did Jess finally smother you with whipped cream?
Aria grinned, thumbs flying.
Aria: Barely survived. Want my body if I don't make it home?
Maya: Only if I get your vinyl collection.
Aria shook her head, smiling as she tucked the phone away. This was the best part of the night—quiet streets, soft laughter echoing from far-off bars, the kind of peace that made the city feel almost safe.
Almost.
A sound behind her broke the rhythm of her steps.
She slowed. The echo slowed too.
The hair on the back of her neck rose. Aria glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see another late-night walker—but the sidewalk was empty, bathed in the orange glow of flickering streetlights.
Her pulse quickened. She adjusted her bag, forcing her pace steady. "It's fine," she murmured under her breath. "It's just the street. Just your imagination."
But the sensation didn't leave. That prickle—that certainty—of being watched.
By the time she reached her building, her hands trembled as she fit the key into the lock. Once inside, she leaned against the door, exhaling hard.
Silence. Only her shallow breathing and the ticking clock on the wall.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're losing it, Aria."
She walked into her bedroom, tossing her scarf on the chair—then froze.
Her window was open.
Just an inch. Just enough for the curtain to stir.
She knew she had closed it that morning. She always closed it.
Aria's throat tightened. She stepped forward, reaching to pull it shut, when a cold gust swept inside, carrying something faint but distinct—cologne. A dark, unfamiliar scent that did not belong to her.
Her hand faltered. For a moment, she stood utterly still, the city's noises hushed outside.
And though she couldn't see anyone, she knew.
Someone had been here.
And whoever he was… he wasn't gone.