“Run.”

The message appeared on Myra Khanna’s phone at 2:13 AM.

Her fingers froze above the screen.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The room was silent. Dark. Still.

She was inside her own house.

Safe.

So why did it feel like she wasn’t?

Her phone buzzed again.

“Why aren’t you moving?”

Her breath hitched.

Slowly… she looked around.

Door—closed.

Window—shut.

Curtains—still.

Everything normal.

Too normal.

She typed

“Who are you?”

Seen.

No reply.

A few seconds passed.

Then—

“You always sleep on your left side…”

Her body went cold.

Her fingers tightened around the blanket.

Another message—

“And when you’re scared… you hold it like that.”

Her breath stopped.

She dropped the blanket instantly.

Fear crept under her skin.

Her eyes moved across the room—

corners… shadows… silence.

Searching.

For something she couldn’t see.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Relax…”

“Don’t be afraid of me, baby…”

“I’ll make sure you’re always safe.”

Her heartbeat turned uneven.

Safe?

This didn’t feel safe.

Another message appeared—

“You’re mine… always.”

Her lips trembled.

Her chest tightened.

Tears filled her eyes—

but she forced them back.

No.

She won’t cry.

Not for him.

Her fingers shook as she typed—

“Stop this.”

Seen.

A pause.

Then—

“Make me.”

Her breath caught.

Another message—

“You try so hard to act strong…”

“But I know how easily you break.”

Her heart pounded louder.

That line felt too personal.

Too close.

Her eyes slowly shifted—

towards the corner of her room.

That small shadow.

Still.

Silent.

Watching.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Don’t look there…”

“You won’t find me.”

She turned away instantly.

Her hands shaking now.

Another message—

“Good girl…”

“Just stay like that.”

Her grip tightened on the phone.

Her breathing uneven.

Her phone lit up one last time—

“Sleep, baby…”

“I’ll be watching you…”

“Like I always do.”

The screen went black.

Silence returned.

But this time—

it wasn’t empty.

It felt heavy.

Controlled.

Possessive.

Myra slowly lay back on her bed, her eyes fixed on the dark ceiling.

Sleep didn’t come.

Not even close.

Because now—

she understood something terrifying—

Her phone buzzed again.

A soft vibration.

But in the silence of the night—

it sounded too loud.

Myra stared at the screen.

She didn’t want to open it.

But she did.

“I said sleep.”

Her throat went dry.

Her fingers hovered—

then she typed slowly—

“I won’t.”

Seen.

Typing…

Stopped.

Typing again…

“You never listen.”

A pause.

Then—

“That’s why you get hurt.”

Her chest tightened.

“What do you want?” she typed.

This time—

the reply came instantly.

“You.”

Her grip on the phone tightened.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

Her breathing grew shallow.

“Then what? Money? Revenge? Who are you?”

Three dots appeared.

Vanished.

Appeared again.

“You ask too many questions…”

Another message followed—

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to talk to strangers at night?”

Her jaw clenched.

“I’m calling the police.”

Seen.

A few seconds passed.

Then—

a message that made her stomach drop—

“No, you won’t.”

Her fingers froze.

“Yes, I will.”

Another message popped up—

“Then why haven’t you moved yet?”

Her body stiffened.

Her eyes widened slightly.

Because it was true.

She hadn’t moved.

Not even an inch.

Her gaze slowly shifted toward her door again.

Still closed.

Locked.

Right?

Her heart skipped.

Was it locked?

She couldn’t remember.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Don’t check.”

Her breath caught.

“Stay in bed.”

Her fingers trembled.

“How do you know what I’m doing?”

Seen.

A long pause.

Long enough to make her chest ache.

Then—

“I know everything.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“No, you don’t.”

Another message.

“You’re thinking about the door.”

Her stomach twisted.

“And now… you’re wondering if it’s locked.”

Her heartbeat became loud.

Too loud.

She swallowed hard.

“I’m not scared of you.”

She hit send before she could stop herself.

Seen.

A few seconds of silence.

Then—

“Liar.”

Her eyes burned.

“I’m not.”

“Then prove it.”

Her fingers hovered again.

“What do you want me to do?”

The reply came slowly this time—

almost like he was enjoying it.

“Get up.”

Her breath stopped.

Her body refused to move.

“No.”

“Get up, Myra.”

Her name.

Her name.

Her heart slammed against her chest.

“How do you know my name?”

Seen.

Typing…

“Because I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

Her vision blurred for a second.

“That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?”

Another message followed—

“You wore a blue top today.”

Her mind raced.

“You had your hair tied… but a few strands kept falling on your face.”

Her fingers went numb.

“And you kept tucking them behind your ear every five minutes.”

Her breath hitched.

That was—

true.

Every word.

True.

Her phone buzzed again.

“I like it when you do that.”

Her stomach dropped.

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

Her eyes filled with anger now.

Fear… mixed with something sharper.

“Show yourself.”

Seen.

A pause.

Then—

“You’re not ready for that.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Try me.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

The kind that made the air feel heavier.

Then—

a message that made her blood run cold—

“Turn your head… slowly.”

Her entire body froze.

“No.”

“Do it.”

“I said no.”

Three dots appeared again.

Then—

“Fine.”

A pause.

“You’ll see me soon anyway.”

Her heart skipped.

“What does that mean?”

No reply.

Her breathing grew uneven again.

“Answer me.”

Silence.

“ANSWER ME.”

Seen.

Then finally—

“Sleep, Myra.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“I’m not sleeping.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No.”

Another message appeared—

softer this time.

Almost calm.

Almost gentle.

“I don’t like it when you disobey me.”

Her fingers shook.

“Why are you doing this?”

Seen.

A long pause.

Then—

“Because you’re mine.”

Her vision blurred again.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes.”

Her breath caught.

“You just don’t know it yet.”

Her phone buzzed one last time—

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

A pause.

“Sweet dreams…”

And then—

after a few seconds—

one final message appeared—

“…if you can sleep.”

The screen went dark.

This time—

she didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe properly.

Because now—

it wasn’t just fear.

It was something worse.

Someone out there—

knew her.

Watched her.

Understood her.

And was slowly—

taking control.