I'm in my final year of high school — not that it means much.
After this, I'm thinking of dropping out. College isn't even a dream anymore. I don't have the time, and I definitely don't have the money. Whatever little I've saved... it's better spent elsewhere — on my younger brother Alex's education, or on the medicine my grandmother desperately needs.
We live in a small rented room at the edge of the city. It's cramped, the roof leaks during the rain, and the walls are so thin you can hear the neighbor breathe — but it's home.
After our parents died in a car accident, I was ten. Alex was just four. Our world turned silent that day, and it's never really spoken the same since. Since then, it's been just the three of us — me, Alex, and Grandma. She tried to hold things together, but she's too old now. Her hands shake, her legs give out, and the cough never goes away.So I work. I do various part-time jobs to cover our living expenses. Right now, I'm working at a restaurant near my school, so I head there straight after classes.
**At School**
I can't concentrate in class at all. Maybe I've just been too tired lately.
God, I just want to sleep.
As soon as the class ends, I drop my head onto the desk, hoping to steal a few minutes of rest.
"Hey Arya! You look dead tired again, girl..."
I lift my head slowly and turn to see who it is.
Oh. Nisha. My closest friend — the one who knows everything about me.
"Yeah," I mumble, still resting my head sideways on the desk, eyes half-closed. "Had a lot of work lately."
Nisha shakes her head. "You still need to look after your health, you know."
"Yeah, yeah," I groan, raising two fingers in a mock salute. "Permission to nap now, ma'am?"
She laughs, rolling her eyes, and I let my head sink back onto the desk, grateful for even a moment's peace.
After classes, I headed straight to the restaurant.
"Arya, you're late today," Manager Han called out the moment I walked in.
"Yeah, sorry! Just give me a minute — I'll change quickly and be right with you," I said, already rushing toward the back to swap my uniform.
Once I was ready, I approached a customer at one of the tables. "What would you like to have, ma'am?"
She smiled politely. "Can I get an Americano and a Blue Spring cupcake? I heard it's really popular here."
"It is, ma'am," I replied with a small smile. "The Blue Spring cupcake is one of our specialties. We'd love to hear your feedback on it."
"I'm looking forward to it," she said.
"I'll be right back," I nodded, then turned and made my way to the kitchen to place the order.
"It looks like our Blue Spring cupcake is getting more and more popular with the young ladies," Manager Han said, watching the latest order leave the counter.
"Yeah, maybe it's because of the unique name or the design," I replied, tying my apron a little tighter.
"A cake with fallen spring petals in blue—just like I suggested! I'm a genius, huh?" Felix, one of the staff members, shouted proudly from the back.
"You little punk!" Manager Han shot back, half-laughing. "Trying to take all the credit, are you? I'm the one who suggested the flavor, remember?" He rubbed the tip of his nose , that smug little gesture he always did when he felt proud of himself.
The dinner rush hadn't started yet, so the staff were catching their breath.
"I swear I came up with the flavor first," Manager Han said, still grinning proudly as he leaned against the counter.
"You said vanilla with a twist, not blue springpetal magic," Felix teased.
I chuckled softly, wiping down a tray. For a moment, everything felt… normal.
Then the door creaked open.
The bell above it didn't ring — just a soft, dragging creak like it hadn't been oiled in years.
We all turned.
A tall man stepped in. Easily over six foot four.
He wore a long black coat — heavy, almost like winter gear — and a deep hood that hid most of his face. His hands were bare, pale, and long-fingered. In one, he carried a plain black notebook.
He didn't look around. Didn't greet anyone.
Just walked straight to the last table in the farthest corner and sat down with his back to the wall — the kind of seat someone takes when they want to watch everyone else.
I felt an odd chill. It wasn't cold. But my arms broke out in goosebumps anyway.
Manager Han glanced at me. "Arya, can you check on him? See what he wants?"
"Yeah," I said, a bit too quietly.
I picked up my notepad and walked toward the man. Each step felt heavier than the last. The hum of the restaurant seemed to fade with every footstep.
When I reached the table, he hadn't moved.
Just sat still, staring at the open notebook in front of him. I couldn't see what was written, but his pen moved slowly, like he was sketching or writing something deliberately.
"Excuse me, sir," I said, trying to sound normal. "Would you like to order something?"
He didn't answer.
I waited a moment.
Then he looked up — only slightly. Just enough for me to see a sliver of his face under the hood. Eyes dark. Unreadable.
His lips parted.
"I'll wait," he said quietly. "Not hungry yet."
Then he went back to writing.
As if I wasn't there.
As if he knew something I didn't.
I turned and walked back to the counter, my stomach twisted in a knot I couldn't explain.
I tried to shake off the weird feeling.
Maybe I was just being paranoid… overthinking. Acting like a nuisance.
So I went back to wiping tables, refilling the sugar jars, chatting half-heartedly with Felix and Nisha who'd stopped by again. Still, I couldn't help it — every now and then, my eyes drifted toward the man in the corner.
He hadn't moved. Hadn't eaten. Just sat there, quietly scribbling in his notebook, like he had all the time in the world.
An hour passed.
It was nearly the end of our shift — just after 10 p.m. The restaurant had mostly emptied out. That's when we heard him.
A soft voice, almost a whisper:
"Miss…"
Barely audible, even in the quiet.
Manager Han didn't catch it. Felix was already in the back.
So I turned and walked over to him.
He didn't lift his head. Just said calmly,
"One green tea. Please."
His voice was smooth, low — not threatening, but still… I felt something cold brush against my shoulder, like a breeze that hadn't come from the door or the air conditioner.
I stood there for a second too long, surprised.
Green tea? At this hour?
Who drinks green tea at 10 p.m.?
But I shook the thought away. None of my business.
"Right away," I said quietly, then turned and headed toward the kitchen to prepare his order.
But the feeling didn't leave.
It stayed — like a shadow that had started following me, just a step behind.
After our shift ended, we packed up and headed out.
Everyone lived in different directions, so we said our goodbyes and parted ways under the soft hum of the streetlights.
The night was quiet. Dark, but the lamps lining the street did their job, casting long shadows that followed me all the way home.
When I finally reached the small gate of our house, I exhaled in relief.
"I'm home," I called out as I stepped inside, kicking off my shoes.
"Look what I brought for you guys!" I said, holding up a small paper bag with some leftover cupcakes from the restaurant.
"Wahhh! Sis Arya, what is it? What did you bring?" Alex came running, eyes wide with excitement.
"My, my, oh dear... give her a moment to breathe, Alex," Grandma said with a warm chuckle from her seat. "Welcome home, Arya."
I smiled, heart a little lighter.
Whatever strange things had happened today whatever cold shadow had brushed past me — here, I felt safe.
At least for now.
The next morning, I reached school earlier than usual. It was my turn to clean the classroom before the others arrived.
The hallway was still empty, silent except for the soft creak of my shoes on the old floor. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the faint smell of chalk and dust.
I opened the windows one by one, letting in the cool morning breeze. The sky was still pale, the sun just starting to stretch across the buildings.
I wiped the board clean and wrote today's date in the top corner — a habit I'd picked up since the beginning of the year.
With everything in place, I looked around once more, making sure the chairs were straight and the floor was swept.
It was almost time. I returned to my seat quietly and sat down, letting the soft chatter from the corridor grow louder as students started arriving.
Just another normal day.
Or at least, it seemed like it.
As students started filling in, the usual buzz of voices, dragging chairs, and half-awake greetings filled the room. I kept my head down, absently doodling on the corner of my notebook.
Then I noticed something.
A folded piece of paper.
Lying neatly on the edge of my desk — like someone had placed it there while I was cleaning the board.
I frowned. I hadn't seen it before.
Curious, I glanced around, but no one was paying attention. Everyone was too busy chatting or taking their seats.
Slowly, I opened it.
There were just two lines written in sharp, slanted handwriting:
"You were being watched last night.
He knows who you are."
My heart skipped a beat.
I looked around again — this time sharper, faster. Was this a joke? Someone messing with me?
But no one was looking my way.
Just the usual noise.
The usual faces.
I folded the note and slipped it into my bag, trying to calm my breathing.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was someone's idea of a prank.
But deep down, I already knew—
It wasn't.
I stared at the note for a second longer. No name. No clue.
I let out a soft breath through my nose, folded it once more, and walked over to the trash bin.
With barely a glance, I dropped it in.
"What a joke," I muttered under my breath.
Back at my desk, the morning went on as usual.
But every now and then, I caught myself looking toward the door. Or the windows. Or the empty corner of the classroom.
No reason. Just a feeling.
Like the air had shifted slightly.
Like the joke maybe wasn't a joke at all.
The teacher walked in, and just like that, the noise settled.
I slid the note from my thoughts and opened my textbook, trying to focus as Sir began the lesson.
But halfway through the explanation, my mind drifted.
My eyes stayed on the page, but the words blurred.
Suddenly, I wasn't in the classroom anymore.
A tall figure stood in the distance — face hazy, like mist over glass.
He was staring directly at me.
Expressionless.
Silent.
Then slowly, he raised his hand and pointed.
Not at me.
At something behind me.
Or beyond me.
I couldn't tell.
I blinked.
"Hey—Arya? Hey."
I snapped back.
Nisha was leaning toward me, a concerned look on her face.
"Huh? Yeah? What happened?"
"You tell me," she said. "You've been spacing out all day."
I forced a smile. "It's nothing… just didn't sleep well, I guess."
She didn't look convinced.
"Classes are over?" I asked.
"Yeah… You okay?"
"Yeah," I lied, grabbing my bag. "I'll be right back—from the washroom."
I stepped out, not looking back.
The hallway felt colder than usual.