Shadows of the past

The morning after my meeting with Claire, I woke up to the sound of rain tapping against the window. The soft rhythm of the drops was oddly comforting, a steady beat in contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts that had been spinning through my mind. For a brief moment, I stayed in bed, letting the sound wash over me, but the reality of the day ahead soon pulled me from the cocoon of warmth.

James was still asleep beside me, his breathing slow and steady. His arm was draped over my waist, holding me close even in sleep, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight. Despite everything we had been through, despite the tension and the unresolved issues, there was still this—this quiet, simple connection that we had always shared.

But as much as I wanted to stay in that moment, I knew I couldn't. There were still things that needed to be addressed, questions that needed answers, and I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was still amiss. The conversation with Claire had given me some closure, but it had also stirred up new uncertainties, new doubts that I couldn't quite shake.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed, doing my best not to wake James. He murmured something in his sleep but didn't stir, and I took the opportunity to grab my robe and head to the kitchen. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the gentle patter of rain, and I welcomed the solitude as I made myself a cup of coffee.

As I sipped the steaming brew, I found myself replaying the conversation with Claire in my mind. Her apology had been sincere, her remorse genuine, but there was something about the way she had spoken, something in her eyes that had left me feeling unsettled. It was as if she was holding something back, a piece of the puzzle that I hadn't yet discovered.

And then there was the matter of the text I had received from an unknown number just before our meeting. It had been a simple message, just a single word—"Soon." At the time, I had brushed it off as a prank or a wrong number, but now, in the quiet of the morning, it felt like something more. A warning, perhaps, or a threat. But from whom? And why?

I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear James come up behind me until he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. I jumped, nearly spilling my coffee, but his familiar scent and the warmth of his embrace quickly soothed my startled nerves.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, leaning into his embrace. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," he assured me, pressing a kiss to my temple. "What's got you up so early?"

"Just thinking," I said, my voice tinged with a hint of weariness.

He turned me around to face him, his brow furrowed in concern. "Thinking about what?"

I hesitated, not wanting to burden him with my worries, but I knew I couldn't keep avoiding the difficult conversations. If we were going to make this work, we needed to be honest with each other, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.

"I've been thinking about what Claire said," I admitted, searching his eyes for any sign of unease. "And about that text I got yesterday. It's been bothering me."

James's expression darkened at the mention of the text, and I could see the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. "What did the text say again?"

"Just one word—'Soon.'" I set my coffee cup down on the counter, my hands trembling slightly. "I thought it was just a prank, but now I'm not so sure. What if it's something more?"

His grip on my waist tightened, his protective instincts kicking in. "Ella, if someone's trying to mess with you, I need to know. I don't want anything happening to you."

I appreciated his concern, but there was something about the way he spoke, a flash of something in his eyes, that made me wonder if he knew more than he was letting on. "James, is there something you're not telling me?"

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting mine again. "I don't know, Ella. I don't know who could be sending those texts, but… I've been getting a strange feeling too. Like there's something just out of sight, something I can't quite put my finger on."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at his words, my earlier unease growing stronger. "What do you mean?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "I don't know how to explain it. It's like… like there's something from my past that's trying to catch up with me. Something I thought I left behind a long time ago."

I frowned, my mind racing to piece together what he was saying. "Are you talking about Claire? Or something else?"

James shook his head, his expression conflicted. "Claire is part of it, but I think it's bigger than that. There were things that happened before I met you, things I never really talked about because I thought they were over, but now… now I'm starting to wonder if I was wrong."

His words sent a jolt of fear through me. I had always known there were parts of James's past that he hadn't shared with me, but I had assumed they were just painful memories, things he didn't want to revisit. But now, it seemed there was more to the story, more that he had been keeping from me.

"James," I said softly, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. "You can tell me anything. I'm here for you, no matter what. But I need to know what's going on. I need to understand."

He looked into my eyes, his own filled with a mixture of guilt and fear. "Ella, there are things in my past that I'm not proud of. Things that could come back to haunt us if I'm not careful. But I never wanted to burden you with them. I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

He hesitated again, as if weighing his options, before finally speaking. "There was someone else, before Claire. Someone who… let's just say they weren't exactly stable. We had a brief relationship, but when I ended it, things got complicated. I thought I had put it all behind me, but now I'm starting to wonder if they're the ones behind these messages."

The revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. I had known about Claire, had come to terms with her place in James's past, but this was something new, something I hadn't been prepared for. "Who was she? And why would she be sending these messages now?"

James sighed, running a hand over his face. "Her name was Lydia. We met through work—she was a client, and things got complicated quickly. She was… intense. When I ended things, she didn't take it well. There were threats, stalking, and I had to get a restraining order. Eventually, she moved away, and I thought that was the end of it."

"But now you think she's back?" I asked, trying to make sense of it all.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But the timing, the messages—it all feels too familiar. And if it is her… I don't know what she's capable of anymore."

The fear in his voice was palpable, and it sent a wave of dread through me. I had never imagined that James's past could hold such dark secrets, and now that they were coming to light, I felt a growing sense of unease. If Lydia was indeed the one behind the messages, what did that mean for us? What did she want?

"James, we need to be careful," I said, my voice trembling. "If she's back, we can't just ignore it. We need to figure out what she wants and how to protect ourselves."

He nodded, his expression grim. "You're right. I'll reach out to some contacts, see if I can find out where she is, what she's been up to. But in the meantime, we need to be on our guard. No more secrets, no more keeping things from each other."

I agreed, knowing that this was the only way we could face whatever was coming. As much as I wanted to believe that we could handle this on our own, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being pulled into something far more dangerous than we realized.

For the next few days, James and I were on high alert. Every unfamiliar number that popped up on my phone, every shadow that passed by our window, sent a jolt of anxiety through me. I couldn't help but feel like we were being watched, like Lydia was out there, waiting for the right moment to make her move.

James, true to his word, reached out to his contacts, but the information he was able to gather was scarce. Lydia had seemingly vanished after their last encounter, leaving behind no trace of where she might have gone or what she had been doing. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air, only to reemerge now, years later, with a vengeance.

The tension between us grew as the days passed, the strain of constant vigilance taking its toll. We tried to go about our lives as normally as possible, but there was an unspoken fear that lingered in the air, a sense that we were living on borrowed time.

Then, one evening, as

 we sat in the living room, the tension finally reached its breaking point.

"I can't take this anymore, James," I said, my voice breaking with frustration. "I feel like I'm going crazy, like I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for something bad to happen."

He looked at me, his expression filled with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Ella. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted you to be caught up in my past."

"It's not your fault," I said, shaking my head. "But we need to do something. We can't keep living like this, always waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"What do you suggest?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

I hesitated, not sure if I was ready to say the words that had been lingering at the back of my mind. But I knew that we needed to take action, that we couldn't just sit around and wait for Lydia to make her move.

"Maybe we should go to the police," I suggested, my voice trembling. "Tell them everything, get some kind of protection."

James's expression darkened at the suggestion. "The police won't do anything unless we have concrete evidence. And right now, all we have are some vague threats and my word against hers."

I knew he was right, but the thought of doing nothing, of just waiting for Lydia to strike, was unbearable. "There has to be something we can do."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll keep looking, keep trying to track her down. But in the meantime, we need to be careful. We can't let our guard down, not for a second."

I nodded, my heart heavy with fear. I knew that this was far from over, that we were only just beginning to scratch the surface of whatever twisted game Lydia was playing. But as much as I wanted to believe that we could handle it, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were in way over our heads.

The days passed in a blur of anxiety and tension, each one feeling more precarious than the last. The texts continued, each one more ominous than the last, but Lydia herself remained elusive, a shadowy figure lurking just out of reach.

Then, one night, everything changed.

It was late, and I was alone in the apartment. James had gone out to meet with one of his contacts, hoping to dig up more information on Lydia's whereabouts. I was in the living room, trying to distract myself with a book, but my mind kept wandering, my thoughts circling back to the ever-present fear that had taken root in my heart.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the coffee table snapped me out of my thoughts, and I quickly reached for it, my heart racing as I saw an unknown number flashing on the screen. With trembling hands, I unlocked the phone and opened the message.

"Are you ready to play, Ella?"

My blood ran cold as I stared at the words, my mind struggling to process what they meant. There was no doubt now—Lydia was back, and she was coming for me.

Before I could react, the phone buzzed again, and another message appeared.

"I'm closer than you think."

A wave of panic washed over me, and I jumped to my feet, my eyes darting around the room. Was she outside? Watching me? Or was she already inside, hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike?

I backed away from the window, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I tried to think of what to do. My mind was a blur of fear and confusion, and all I could think of was getting out, getting away from the apartment before it was too late.

But as I turned to head for the door, a cold voice echoed through the room, freezing me in my tracks.

"Going somewhere, Ella?"

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat as I saw her standing in the doorway, a sinister smile playing on her lips.

Lydia.

The room seemed to tilt around me as I stared at her, unable to comprehend how she had gotten inside, how she had managed to find me. She looked different from the way James had described her—older, more hardened, with a cold, calculating look in her eyes that sent a chill down my spine.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "You have no idea what I've gone through to get here."

I tried to speak, to say something, anything, but my voice caught in my throat, my fear rendering me mute. All I could do was stand there, frozen in place, as she slowly began to advance towards me.

"It's time to finish what we started," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction.

And with that, she lunged.