Sophie’s hand shook as she clutched the phone, staring at the words on the screen.

Don’t leave. It’s too dangerous.

The letters glowed in the dim light of her apartment, sharp and undeniable.

“What’s wrong?” Mia asked, her brows knitting as she tried to peek at the phone.

Sophie locked the screen instinctively, holding it close to her chest. “Nothing. It’s—nothing.”

Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Sophie.”

Sophie swallowed hard. She trusted Mia with everything—had since college. Mia was the friend who always showed up, the one who talked her off cliffs and dragged her through heartbreaks. But now, with that warning pulsing in her head, Sophie couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“Pack your bag,” Mia insisted, brushing past her into the apartment. “You can stay at my place until we figure this out. My building has better security, and at least you won’t be here alone.”

Sophie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her chest squeezed, torn between the comfort of Mia’s arms and the stranger’s shadowy voice telling her not to leave.

She glanced at the window. The alley below looked empty, but she swore she felt eyes pressing against the glass.

Her phone buzzed again. Mia froze.

Sophie read it quickly before Mia could see.

“They’ll be watching the exits. If you go, they’ll follow.”

Her knees weakened.

“Who is it?” Mia pressed.

Sophie hesitated. “Mia, what if… what if this is bigger than we think?”

Mia groaned, running both hands through her damp hair. “Sophie, please don’t spiral. You always do this—you get lost in your head, make things worse than they are. It’s just a phone. It belongs to some random guy. We hand it in, and we’re free. Done.”

Her logic made sense. It always did. But Sophie’s gut twisted.

“Mia,” she whispered, “last night someone followed me.”

Mia froze, her face draining of color. “What?”

“I saw him. He was standing outside the store. Then outside my apartment. Watching me.”

Mia’s jaw tightened. “All the more reason to leave.”

The phone buzzed again.

“Don’t trust anyone who tells you to run.”

Sophie’s heart stopped.

She looked at Mia, her best friend, standing in her living room with fear written across her face. Then back at the phone, its warning slicing through her chest.

Don’t trust anyone.

Her stomach churned. She didn’t know what to believe anymore.

---

By the time Mia left—after a long, tense argument where Sophie promised she’d “think about it”—Sophie felt wrung out like a rag. The door closed behind her, and silence swallowed the apartment.

She slumped onto the couch, dragging her hands through her hair.

The phone buzzed.

“You did the right thing.”

Her laugh came out broken. “Did I? Because it feels like I’m losing my mind.”

She typed back with shaky hands.

Sophie: Why me? Why are you dragging me into this?

For a long time, there was nothing. Then:

“Because you’re the only one who answered.”

Her breath caught.

She stared at the words until her vision blurred, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

Only one who answered.

She thought about her unfinished manuscripts, about all the rejection emails that piled up in her inbox. About how invisible she sometimes felt in this massive, restless city.

Now, suddenly, she wasn’t invisible anymore. Someone out there saw her. Needed her.

And it terrified her.

---

The next day, Sophie went to work with heavy eyes and heavier thoughts. The bookstore buzzed with weekend customers, but she barely noticed. She kept glancing out the window, waiting for that hooded figure to reappear.

During her lunch break, she slipped into the storeroom, the stranger’s phone in hand.

Sophie: I can’t keep living like this. I need answers. Who are you?

Her thumb hovered, ready to type more, when the reply came.

“Not yet. It’s not safe. But soon.”

Her chest tightened.

Sophie: At least tell me what I’m protecting. Is it you? Or something else?

The dots flickered, then stopped. No reply.

Sophie pressed the phone to her forehead, her eyes closing. “God, what am I doing?”

---

That night, rain poured again. Sophie curled on the couch with her laptop, trying to force herself to write, but the words wouldn’t come. Her brain kept circling the same thought: why her?

A knock rattled her door. She jumped so hard her laptop nearly slid off her lap.

Her breath quickened. Slowly, she stood, her bare feet cold against the floor.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Her heart pounded. She inched toward the door, her hands trembling.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice shaking.

Silence.

Her pulse spiked. She grabbed the phone, praying for a message, a warning—something.

The screen lit up.

“Don’t open the door.”

Her knees nearly gave out.

The knocking grew harder, more insistent.

“Miss! Delivery!” a man’s muffled voice called.

Sophie froze. She hadn’t ordered anything.

The phone buzzed again.

“It’s not a delivery. Step away from the door.”

Her throat closed. She stumbled backward, clutching the phone.

The knocking stopped.

Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.

Then, faintly, footsteps retreated down the hall.

Sophie sagged against the wall, her whole body trembling.

She typed quickly.

Sophie: Who are they? Why are they after you? Why are they at my door?

No reply.

Tears pricked her eyes. She curled into herself on the floor, hugging her knees, her breath shallow.

Whatever this was, it was no longer just messages on a screen.

It was here. It was real.

And it had found her.