The apartment was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made the air feel heavy, like something was watching me. I dropped my bags by the door, glancing around. Dim lighting, a couch that had definitely seen better days, and a single plate in the sink. Typical guy’s place. My new roommate wasn’t home, and honestly, I was relieved. From what I’d heard, Damian Wolfe wasn’t exactly the friendly type. Then, just as I reached for the light switch— Thud. A low, heavy sound echoed from the hallway. My heart jumped. “Hello?” I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. Silence. And then—footsteps. Slow. Measured. Coming closer. The hairs on my arms stood on end as a tall, shadowed figure stepped into view. Messy dark hair, piercing golden eyes, and an expression that screamed leave me alone. Jack. My new roommate. For some reason, as he stood there staring at me, I had the strangest feeling— I wasn’t supposed to be here.

The door to Jacks’s room shut with a quiet click, leaving me standing in the middle of the apartment with my pulse still racing. What the hell was that? No introduction, no casual Hey, welcome to your new home!—just a cold stare and a warning. I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. Great. Just great. Dropping onto the couch, I stared at the hallway, half-expecting him to come storming back out. But nothing. Silence. It was like he wasn’t even there. Maybe that was a good thing. After a few minutes of debating whether I should unpack or just sleep, I decided on the latter. I’d deal with my brooding, intimidating roommate tomorrow.

—The next morning— Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting long shadows across the apartment. I groaned as I stretched, my back protesting from a night spent curled up on the lumpy couch. I hadn’t even made it to my room. The smell of coffee lingered in the air. I frowned. I didn’t make coffee. Slowly, I sat up, my gaze drifting toward the kitchen. Jack stood there, back turned to me, pouring a cup of black coffee. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweats, his hair still messy from sleep. If I hadn’t already met him, I might’ve thought he looked normal. He wasn’t. “You’re up early,” I said, attempting casual conversation. He didn’t respond. Not even a glance in my direction. Okay. So we’re ignoring each other. Cool. I stood and stretched, trying to shake off the tension that seemed to cling to the air. “So, are we gonna talk about last night? Or do you usually greet new roommates like they broke into your house?” Nothing. Jack took a sip of his coffee, set the mug down, and turned toward me. For a second, I thought he might actually say something. Instead, he grabbed his hoodie from the counter, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and walked straight past me toward the door. Before I could open my mouth, the door shut behind him. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. What is wrong with this guy? Something about him felt… off. Not just rude, not just distant—off. The way he moved, the way his eyes almost seemed too sharp in the dim light last night, the way he had appeared so silently out of nowhere. And the worst part? I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be here.

By the time Jack returned that evening, I had settled into the apartment—or at least, as much as I could with a ghost of a roommate. He barely spoke, barely made noise. It was like living with a shadow. I sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through my phone, pretending not to notice when he walked in. The door shut softly behind him, and he moved straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. “Rough day?” I asked, testing if he’d acknowledge my existence.

I sighed. “Right. The silent treatment. Cool.”

I blinked. “What?”

A chill ran down my spine. “Uh… yeah. I was planning on it.”

A thick silence settled between us before he pushed off the counter and disappeared into his room without another word. I stared at the empty hallway, heart pounding. What was that? Why was he so intense about locking the door? I should’ve laughed it off, chalked it up to him being paranoid or just plain weird. But something about the way he said it—so firm, so final—sent a deep unease curling in my stomach. And for the first time since moving in, I had to wonder— What exactly was I locking the door against?