Chapter 2: Unknown Number

I stared at the message until the brightness of my phone began dimming against my fingers.

"Do you remember me now?"

The room suddenly felt colder.

Outside, rain tapped softly against my bedroom window, steady and endless, while thunder rumbled somewhere far in the distance.

I swallowed hard.

My eyes stayed locked on the screen as if the words would suddenly rearrange themselves into something that made sense.

But they didn't.

A strange feeling twisted inside my chest instead.

Like fear.

Or recognition.

Slowly, I sat up straighter against my headboard and clicked the unknown number.

No contact photo.

No saved name.

Nothing.

Just an empty profile and a number I didn't recognize.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard before finally typing:

"Who is this?"

Seen immediately..

The typing bubble appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

My heartbeat sped up for some reason I couldn't explain.

Then finally—

"You really don't remember me."

I frowned harder.

Something about the way he typed felt familiar.

Not the words themselves—

the feeling behind them.

Like disappointment.

I quickly typed back.

"Should i?"

Three dots appeared almost instantly this time.

"You used to wait for me every night."

My breath caught.

A sudden image flashed through my mind before I could stop it.

Rainwater reflecting station lights.

Dark hair.

A voice soft enough to disappear into the storm.

"You came back."

I squeezed my eyes shut immediately.

"No..."

I pressed a hand against my forehead.

This was getting ridiculous.

Dreams weren't real.

And there was no way some random stranger was connected to them.

Right?

Buzz

Another message.

"You still hate thunderstorms."

I froze.

Completely.

My eyes slowly lifted back to the screen.

No one knew that.

Well... almost no one.

I'd never posted about it online.

Never talked about it much.

Ever since I was little, thunderstorms made me anxious for reasons I never understood. Even now, the sound of thunder always left this strange heaviness in my chest.

My fingers trembled slightly.

"Who ARE you?"

This time, there was no typing bubble.

Only silence.

Rain poured harder outside.

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

Too still.

I stared at the screen for nearly a minute before throwing my phone beside me in frustration.

"This has to be some kind of prank."

But even as I said it out loud—

I didn't believe it.

I slid out of bed and walked toward my window slowly. Moonlight mixed with city lights reflected faintly across the wet streets below.

Everything looked normal.

Cars passed occasionally.

Streetlights flickered softly through the rain.

No mysterious strangers.

No boys from dreams.

I let out a quiet breath.

See? I was overthinking.

Buzz

I jumped slightly.

My phone lit up behind me again.

Something deep in my stomach twisted before I even picked it up.

Another message.

"Look outside."

Cold rushed through my chest instantly.

I turned toward the window again.

At first—

nothing.

Then headlights slowly appeared through the rain.

A motorcycle rolled quietly down the street before stopping directly across from my apartment building.

My heartbeat stuttered.

The rider stayed still for a moment beneath the storm, black helmet hiding his face completely. Rain soaked through the dark hoodie stretched across his shoulders.

I couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Something about him felt wrong.

Not dangerous.

Familiar.

The rider slowly lifted his head toward my window.

Toward me.

And somehow—

even from this far away—

I felt it.

That same feeling from the dream.

Like being recognized.