CHAPTER 8

I stood by my window, staring past the swaying trees, my heart pounding so loudly I could almost hear it. The night was eerily still, the wind barely rustling the leaves. I squinted, scanning the shadows between the trunks, hoping—no, praying—that I wouldn’t see anything lurking there. I had been standing like this for nearly thirty minutes, my fingers gripping the curtain tightly.

Nothing.

I exhaled deeply, the tension in my chest loosening just a bit. Maybe he had finally given up. Maybe changing the locks and installing extra security had scared him off. Maybe, just maybe, I was free of him. The thought brought a small, hopeful smile to my lips.

"Sophia."

I gasped and spun around, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest.

“Mom!” I clutched my chest, trying to calm my breathing.

She stood in my doorway, her arms crossed, a curious expression on her face. “Dear, why aren’t you sleeping yet? It’s almost midnight.”

I swallowed hard, trying to mask my nerves. “I—I just lost track of time,” I lied, forcing a casual shrug. “I was thinking about my essay.”

Mom stepped further into the room, her gaze shifting toward the window. “And what exactly were you staring at out there?”

I hesitated for a moment before shaking my head. “Nothing, Mom. Just… thinking.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she didn’t quite believe me, but thankfully, she didn’t push. Instead, she sighed and pulled me into a quick hug.

“You’ll be fine,” she murmured, rubbing my back. “College is tough, but you’re even tougher. My baby girl is smart, and she’s going to pull through.”

I forced another smile. If only she knew that college stress wasn’t my biggest problem right now.

She pulled away and gave me a knowing look. “Now, get some sleep. We’re going out for lunch tomorrow.”

“Really?” I perked up slightly. “And I get to choose the place?”

She nodded. “Of course. Enjoy it while it lasts, though. Once this little one is born, the baby will be the one making all the decisions.” She patted her still-flat belly, her smile warm.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Great, so I have a limited window of freedom before I’m forced to eat wherever the baby wants.”

“Exactly.” She chuckled. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

As soon as she left, I let out a long breath and turned back to the window. My heart had settled slightly, but my body still felt tense. I told myself it was okay now. That there was no one out there. That I was safe.

But deep down, I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Still, I forced myself to step away from the window, shutting the curtains tightly before climbing into bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin, my eyes darting around the dimly lit room, as if expecting someone to be standing in the corner.

No. Stop it. You’re safe.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to believe it.

But as sleep started to take over, I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that someone—somewhere—was still watching me.

---

The next morning, the bright sunlight streaming through my curtains felt almost unnatural after the uneasy night I had. I blinked a few times, groaning as I stretched my limbs.

I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the tension that still clung to my body. Today was supposed to be a normal day. No fear, no paranoia—just a normal day with my parents.

By the time I made it downstairs, Mom was already setting the table for breakfast, humming softly to herself. Dad was on the couch, reading the newspaper like he always did.

“Morning,” I mumbled, sitting down at the table.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Mom placed a plate of toast and scrambled eggs in front of me. “Did you sleep well?”

I hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, I did.” Another lie.

Dad glanced over his newspaper. “So, where are we going for lunch?”

I chewed my toast thoughtfully. “I was thinking of that little Italian place downtown. The one with the amazing pasta.”

Mom clapped her hands together. “Perfect! I’ve been craving something cheesy.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Cravings already?”

“You have no idea,” Mom said, smirking. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

The casual conversation, the warmth of my parents’ presence—it all felt comforting. For a little while, I managed to push away the paranoia that had been consuming me.

By noon, we were heading out. I let myself relax, enjoying the drive as Dad played his old-school rock music. Mom kept talking about baby names, already throwing out suggestions that I immediately vetoed.

“No, Mom, you can’t name the baby ‘Sunshine.’”

“Why not?” she argued. “It’s cute!”

“Maybe for a pet, not a human being.”

Dad chuckled. “She has a point, honey.”

Mom huffed but didn’t push further.

Lunch was great. The food was amazing, and for the first time in a while, I felt normal. I laughed at Dad’s terrible jokes, rolled my eyes at Mom’s endless attempts to set me up with someone, and for a few hours, I was just a regular college student enjoying a meal with her parents.

“Wow, that waiter looks cute,” Mom said, nudging me slightly with her elbow as she subtly pointed toward the young man serving a table behind us.

I barely glanced at the waiter. Instead, my attention shifted to the person he was serving. My heart skipped a beat. A strange, unsettling feeling settled in my stomach. I didn’t know why, but something about that man—his posture, the way he moved—felt eerily familiar. It was like I had seen him before, but I couldn’t place where or when.

And his presence… it made my body tremble with an unexplainable fear.

I forced myself to look away, focusing back on Mom before she noticed the shift in my demeanor.

“Oooh, look at you,” she teased, grinning. “You can’t stop looking at the waiter. I told you he was cute!”

I quickly snapped out of my daze. “Yeah, you’re right,” I lied, trying to keep my voice light and casual.

Who was that man? And why did his presence send chills down my spine?

I tried to shake it off, convincing myself I was just being paranoid. Maybe he was someone from my past—a face from last year when I had been a little too reckless with my choices. I had been a wild card, going out every weekend, drinking too much, making impulsive decisions I barely remembered the next day.

Maybe he was just someone I had met in passing, someone unimportant.

Or maybe…

No. I pushed the thought away before it could form.

“Waiter!” Mom suddenly called out, her voice making me jolt slightly. I watched as the young waiter, the one she had been gushing over, made his way to our table.

“Please don’t tell me you’re ordering something else,” Dad said, sighing as he set down his fork.

“Oh, not at all,” Mom replied with a mischievous glint in her eye.

I groaned internally. I knew exactly where this was going.

Mom looked up at the waiter and squinted at his name tag. “Cameroon,” she read aloud. “Are you married?”

Oh. My. God.

“Mom—” I started, horrified.

Cameroon, the waiter, looked momentarily taken aback before flashing a polite, albeit confused, smile. “Uh, no, ma’am.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Mom beamed, completely ignoring my mortification. “You see, my daughter here is single, and I just think you two would look lovely together.”

I closed my eyes, exhaling through my nose, willing myself to disappear.

“Mom, please don’t,” I gritted out. “I’m so sorry, just ignore her. We’ll call you if we NEED anything.”

Cameroon chuckled awkwardly, giving me a nod before quickly excusing himself.

Dad, who had been silently sipping his drink, finally spoke up. “Dear, can we not try to set up our daughter with random waiters?”

Mom huffed, crossing her arms. “What? He’s handsome, and she admitted it too!”

I shot her a glare. “No, I admitted nothing.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. I’m just saying, you’re young, and you should be enjoying life.”

“Mom, I’m twenty, not thirty. I don’t need to be set up like I’m running out of time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to at least give the poor boy a chance,” she mumbled.

I groaned. “Dad, please talk to your wife.”

Dad simply smirked. “You know how she is, Sophia. You’re on your own.”

I sighed and shook my head, turning my attention back to my plate.

For a few minutes, I managed to distract myself with the food. The pasta was delicious, creamy and rich, exactly what I needed to help calm my nerves. I focused on the conversation, listening as my parents bickered over baby names.

But no matter how much I tried to enjoy the moment, that eerie feeling crept back in.

I felt watched.

Slowly, I set my fork down and glanced over my shoulder, my gaze landing on the man at the table behind us. He was eating, his focus seemingly on his plate. Not looking at us. Not paying attention.

Maybe I was being paranoid.

Maybe the stress from the past few weeks was finally getting to me.

I turned back around, inhaling deeply, forcing myself to relax.

“So, tell me,” Mom said, breaking the silence, “when are you going to start dating?”

I almost choked on my water. “Mom!”

She ignored my protest. “I mean, you’re in college. You should be meeting interesting young men. Where are they?”

“I’m focusing on school,” I said firmly.

Mom rolled her eyes. “That’s always your excuse. You know, when I was your age—”

“No. No speeches,” I interrupted, already knowing she was about to dive into some long-winded story about her youth.

Dad chuckled. “Let the girl be, honey. She’ll date when she’s ready.”

Mom sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. But I’m telling you, Sophia, you don’t want to wait too long. Life passes by quickly.”

I shook my head and continued eating, trying to block out the conversation.

And then I felt it again.

That crawling sensation.

The feeling of eyes boring into me.

I tried to ignore it, but the hairs on my arms stood up, my instincts screaming that something wasn’t right.

Slowly, carefully, I looked back again.

The man at the table behind us wasn’t eating anymore. His hands were resting on the table, his posture unnervingly still.

And this time, his eyes were on me.

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

His gaze was steady, dark, unreadable. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t pretending to be polite.

He was just watching.

I quickly turned back around, my hands gripping the edge of the table. My heart pounded in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Are you okay?” Dad asked, noticing my sudden shift in demeanor.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just—just thought I saw someone I knew.”

Another lie.

Because I didn’t know who that man was.

But deep down, I knew one thing for sure.

He knew me.