You moved into your new apartment, hoping for a fresh start. But from the very first night, something felt...off. Your belongings seemed slightly out of place. Your laptop screen flickered to life in the middle of the night—yet you hadn’t touched it. A lingering sensation of being watched, a weight pressing against your skin, even when you were alone.

One evening, as you pulled your bedroom curtains shut, you saw him. Across the street, in the apartment facing yours, a man stood in the dimly lit room, staring directly at you. He didn’t flinch when you noticed him. He didn’t turn away.

He smiled.

At first, the unsettling occurrences were small. A text message from an unknown number, describing exactly what you had just done in your room. A shirt you had thrown into your laundry basket, now neatly folded on your dresser. A handwritten note left on your kitchen counter, despite your door being locked.

"You smell even sweeter in the morning.""You look beautiful when you sleep.""Don’t close the curtains, darling."

You changed the locks. Shut every window. But Lucas always found a way back in.

Then one night, you checked the security camera you had installed. And that’s when you saw it. Lucas was never in the apartment across the street. The realization clawed at your chest. You had never checked the vents.

Your camera panned upward to the dark corner of your ceiling, and there—behind the small ventilation grate—two eyes stared back at you.

Lucas had been watching you from inside your own walls. Every night. Every moment. He had never left.

Your stomach twisted as you slowly turned in your bed, heart hammering against your ribs. The sheets beneath you felt... different. There was a scent lingering in the fabric. Not yours. A musky, masculine scent. Swallowing hard, you lifted the blanket—There were stains on your sheets. Pale, sticky remnants. He had been in your bed.

Your phone vibrated against the nightstand, the screen illuminating a new message. "Did you sleep well last night, sweetheart?"

Then—The bedroom door locked. From the inside.

The dim light from the hallway cast a long, distorted silhouette—a man standing motionless in the darkness, his outline sharp and ominous. Lucas was here.