The wind rustled the leaves gently outside Amanda's cottage, but something about the night felt different—charged. Underneath the cover of thick trees and long-forgotten fences, a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the modest structure with unblinking focus.
They didn't move. They didn't flinch. Just stared.
A faint red dot blinked once from a small device in their hand. Then disappeared as they turned and melted back into the darkness, unseen.
⸻
Inside, Amanda sat at her kitchen table, sipping lukewarm tea, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had wrapped itself around her all evening. She hadn't told Oliver about the letter yet—he had just left after spending the afternoon trying to make her laugh, watching old movies with her and bringing pastries from a nearby bakery.
She appreciated his visits. Even when he didn't speak much, his presence made her feel a little safer. A little less haunted.
But tonight, safety felt far away.
