Bianca couldn't shake the chill that lingered long after the screen went dark. Jace's last message still pulsed across her phone like a forbidden echo: Some truths are better left untouched.

Her fingers trembled as she set the phone aside, but her mind refused to rest. Why did his words feel like a warning wrapped in charm? Why did his voice-even through typed letters-carry a weight that bent her chest into knots?

The air in her apartment felt heavy, pressing against her ribs. She tried to distract herself, pacing toward the kitchen, flicking the kettle on, staring at the rising steam. But her heart drummed with restless questions she didn't dare ask aloud.

The sound of her doorbell startled her. Bianca froze.

"Who-" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Relax, it's just late."

She walked cautiously to the door, peeking through the peephole. Relief flooded her when she saw the familiar mop of curls and wide grin.

"Dede," she whispered, unlocking it quickly.

Her best friend slipped inside, holding up a takeout bag like a trophy. "Chicken noodles. And don't ask me how I knew you'd need emergency carbs tonight. It's a gift."

Bianca laughed, but the sound was thin, brittle. "You're psychic, that's what you are."

Dede's smile softened as she studied Bianca's tired eyes. "Psychic and hungry. But also your unofficial therapist. So-spill. What's keeping you up this time?"

Bianca hesitated, chewing her lip as they settled on the couch. She wanted to dismiss it, to laugh it off, but the weight on her chest demanded release. "It's Jace."

Dede raised her brows. "The online guy? Mister Charming-with-a-keyboard?"

"Yes," Bianca whispered. Her fingers twisted the corner of a cushion. "He's... different, Dede. When we talk, it feels like he sees straight through me. But tonight... his words... they weren't just flirtation. They felt like-like a shadow behind the light."

Dede slurped noodles straight from the box, unimpressed. "Girl, shadows are only scary if you turn off the lamp. You don't know him. He's probably just being dramatic to keep you hooked."

Bianca wished she could believe that. "Maybe. But it didn't feel like a game."

Dede leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "Listen, B. Men like him-especially the attractive, smooth-talking ones-they thrive on mystery. It's their way of staying in control. But here's the twist: you don't have to give them that power. Keep your guard."

Her words made sense, but Bianca's heart rebelled. She wanted to keep her guard, yet she felt herself slipping past it every time Jace typed her name like it was poetry.

The phone buzzed. Both women jumped.

Dede shot her a look. "That better not be him."

Bianca swallowed, lifting the phone. The screen flashed with a new message. Her pulse spiked.

It was him.

"Couldn't sleep, Bianca? Or are you thinking of me too much?"

Her breath hitched. The timing was uncanny, almost as if he had been listening.

Dede leaned over her shoulder, reading aloud. "Okay, creepy coincidence alert. How did he know you're awake?"

"I... don't know," Bianca whispered. The room felt colder, smaller.

Another message arrived, quick and precise: "Your light's on."

Bianca's blood ran cold. She snapped her head toward the window, her curtains drawn halfway. The street outside was quiet, but the possibility that he was close, that he could see her, turned her stomach to stone.

Dede grabbed her arm. "Don't you dare freak out alone. If he's nearby, we call security. Or the police."

Bianca shook her head, heart racing. "No, maybe-it could be coincidence. Maybe he just guessed. People always say things like that online."

But her voice betrayed her disbelief.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't words. It was a picture.

Her own apartment window. Taken from the street below.

Dede gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. He's here."

Bianca's heart slammed so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. She stumbled back, clutching the phone like it burned. "This-this can't be real."

"Block him. Now," Dede urged, her voice trembling.

But before Bianca could move, another message followed the picture: "Don't be afraid. Some stories are meant to begin this way."

Bianca's knees weakened. She gripped the armrest, trying to steady herself as panic clawed up her throat.

Dede snatched the phone from her, typing furiously: "Leave her alone. Don't ever contact Bianca again." She hit send, her fingers shaking.

The reply was instant. "Hello, Dede. Nice to finally meet you too."

Both women froze.

Bianca's mind spun. How did he know her name? She had never mentioned Dede in their chats.

Dede's lips parted in disbelief. "He-he knows me? Bianca, this isn't just some random flirtation. He's... he's been watching you."

Bianca's pulse hammered. Fear tangled with something else, something she hated herself for feeling-curiosity. Because beneath the dread was a pull she couldn't deny. Who was Jace really? And why did his words, even laced with danger, still feel like silk against her skin?

The phone buzzed again. A final message glowed across the screen: "Sleep well tonight, Bianca. Tomorrow, we'll stop hiding."

The room spun with silence, broken only by the shallow rhythm of their breaths.

Dede clutched Bianca's hand tightly. "We need to tell someone. Now."

Bianca nodded, but her eyes lingered on the glowing words, her heart a battlefield of terror and longing. For the first time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to run away from Jace... or run straight into the storm he promised.

And as the lights outside flickered, Bianca swore she saw a shadow move beneath her window.

The night felt endless. Bianca sat curled on the couch, staring at the curtains as if shadows themselves could leap inside. Every sound-the hum of the fridge, the distant bark of a dog, the faint whisper of cars passing by-felt amplified.

Dede refused to leave her side. She kept scrolling on her phone, muttering, "We should report this. Right now. I don't care how charming this guy was online-this isn't normal, Bianca. He knows too much."

Bianca wanted to agree. Her body screamed danger, every nerve burning. But her heart-traitorous, reckless-kept whispering another truth.

What if he's not just a stranger? What if there's a reason he feels so familiar?

She hated herself for it. Fear and longing churned in her stomach like poison.

The phone buzzed again. Bianca jolted, breath catching.

This time, no picture. No playful words. Just a simple, chilling line:

"Look outside."

Dede lunged forward. "Don't you dare."

But Bianca's feet moved on their own. Drawn by an invisible thread, she edged toward the window. Her hand hesitated on the curtain. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

With one swift pull, the fabric slid aside.

And there he was.

A lone figure stood across the street, bathed in the yellow glow of the streetlamp. Tall, broad-shouldered, still. His face was hidden in the shadows, but Bianca knew-it had to be him. Jace.

Her breath shuddered out of her.

Dede cursed under her breath. "Oh hell no. I'm calling the police."

Bianca grabbed her arm. "Wait."

"Wait? Bianca, he's standing there like some stalker from a horror movie! What else do you need?"

But Bianca's eyes stayed locked on the figure. He wasn't moving. He wasn't threatening. Just watching. Waiting.

As if he wanted her to come to him.

The phone buzzed again. "Don't be afraid. I came to prove I'm real."

Bianca's hand trembled as she held the phone. "He... he came for me."

"Came for you?!" Dede's voice cracked in disbelief. "Girl, wake up! That's not romance-that's obsession."

Yet Bianca couldn't pull her gaze away. For months, Jace had only been words on a screen, a voice in her head, a mystery she could never touch. And now-he was flesh, bone, shadow, reality.

Her heart betrayed her again. She wanted to see his face.

Dede paced, grabbing her jacket. "Fine. If you won't protect yourself, I'll drag you to safety."

But before she could pull Bianca away, the phone chimed once more. "One minute, Bianca. Step outside. Alone. Or I'll disappear forever."

Her chest constricted. Forever. The word sliced through her fear like a blade.

"Don't," Dede begged, clutching her hand. "He's manipulating you. This is how people end up on the news."

Bianca swallowed hard, torn between reason and a pull she couldn't explain. Every instinct said danger, yet her heart whispered: If you don't see him now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life.

She slipped her hand from Dede's grip. "I just need to know, Dede. I have to see him."

Dede's eyes filled with panic. "Then I'm coming with you."

But when Bianca glanced back at her phone, a final line glowed on the screen: "Alone, Bianca. Or it ends tonight."

Her blood froze.

Slowly, with her heart in her throat, she stepped toward the door. Dede's protests followed, but Bianca's body moved as if under a spell. The world outside called to her, dangerous and irresistible.

She opened the door. The night air rushed in, cool and sharp, smelling faintly of rain and asphalt.

Each step down the stairs echoed like a drumbeat.

Across the street, the figure hadn't moved. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her, waiting.

Her pulse raced as she reached the edge of the curb. The street stretched between them like a line she wasn't sure she wanted to cross.

"Jace?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

The figure shifted. Slowly, he stepped forward, into the dim light.

Her breath caught.

Even half-hidden by shadow, he was breathtaking-sharp jawline, dark tousled hair, eyes that gleamed with something between danger and desire. The kind of man who could ruin you with a smile.

He was real. Too real.

"You came," he said softly, his voice exactly as she imagined-smooth, deep, a melody wrapped in mystery.

Bianca's heart stuttered. "Why? Why are you here?"

"To show you I'm not just words." His lips curved into a half-smile. "To remind you that some stories are meant to be lived, not typed."

Every rational thought screamed to run. But the world around her seemed to fade-the quiet street, the glow of lamps, even Dede's worried figure at the window. All that existed was him.

Jace.

He extended a hand. "Come closer."

Bianca hesitated, her breath shaking.

Before she could decide, Dede's voice rang from the doorway. "Bianca! Get back inside!"

Jace's eyes darkened. His smile lingered, but there was steel beneath it. "You shouldn't let other people write your story, Bianca. Only you can choose."

Her chest tightened. Torn in two directions, her heart pulled toward him even as her mind screamed to run.

For one suspended moment, the night held its breath.

Then headlights flared from down the street, a car speeding closer, its horn blaring.

Bianca gasped, stumbling back.

The car swerved, screeching to a halt inches from Jace.

And just like that-he was gone.

The headlights dimmed, the street empty.

No Jace. No shadow. Nothing.

Bianca's body shook violently as Dede rushed to her side, grabbing her arm. "I told you! I told you he's dangerous! Bianca, he's playing with you."

But Bianca's eyes darted around the empty street, her heart clawing against her ribs. He had been there. She had felt him. Heard him. Seen his eyes.

And now he'd vanished into the night like a phantom.

Her phone buzzed one last time. With trembling hands, she lifted it.

"Next time, Bianca, you'll follow me into the dark."

Her breath caught, terror and desire twisting inside her until she could hardly stand.

She had wanted proof Jace was real. Now she had it. And she knew, deep in her soul-this was only the beginning.

The night refused to end.

Even after Jace vanished, Bianca couldn't shake the image of him under the streetlamp-too beautiful, too dangerous, too real. His voice still lingered in her ears, low and commanding, promising more.

But when she blinked, all that remained was the quiet street and the glow of her phone, pulsing with his final message: "Next time, Bianca, you'll follow me into the dark."

She sat on her bed long after Dede forced her inside, long after the curtains were pulled tight. Her phone lay on the nightstand, a small, glowing curse.

Her friend paced the room like a caged animal. "I'm telling you, B, this isn't just some online crush gone wrong. This is obsession. He shows up, disappears into thin air, sends creepy texts-it's classic predator behavior. You need to block him. Delete everything. Now."

Bianca nodded, but her fingers twitched toward the phone. "I know."

"No, you don't," Dede snapped. "You're still thinking about him. I can see it on your face. You want him to text again, don't you?"

Heat crept up Bianca's neck. She looked away, shame coiling in her stomach. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is." Dede crossed her arms. "You delete him, and this whole nightmare ends."

Bianca wanted to. She really did. But her heart kept whispering that she'd only be cutting off a part of herself. Jace had slipped into her life like he'd always belonged. And even now, with fear in her veins, she couldn't deny it.

"Just give me until tomorrow," Bianca murmured. "If he doesn't stop, I'll cut him off."

Dede groaned in frustration but relented. "Fine. But if he shows up again, I'm dragging you to the police myself. No more arguments."

Bianca promised, though deep inside she knew it was a lie.

---

The next morning, she woke to the faint sound of her phone buzzing.

Her heart stuttered. She snatched it from the nightstand, praying it wasn't him, terrified it was.

It was Jace.

Her chest tightened as she read the words glowing on the screen:

"Did you dream of me, Bianca? I dreamed of you."

Her throat went dry. She wanted to throw the phone across the room, but instead, her thumb hovered, trembling, over the keyboard.

Why did you disappear last night? she typed before she could stop herself.

The reply came instantly: "To keep you safe."

Her hands shook. Safe from what?

"From yourself. You don't know how much danger you're in."

Bianca's breath caught. She looked around her quiet room, confusion spiraling. Danger? What are you talking about?

No answer. Minutes stretched, unbearable.

She flung the phone aside, running her hands through her hair. "This is insane. I'm insane."

But just as she rose, a chime rang out. A new message.

"Check the book on your shelf. Third from the left."

Bianca froze. Her gaze darted to the tall wooden shelf by her desk. A line of novels stood neatly, spines worn from years of reading.

Her heart pounded. Slowly, with trembling hands, she reached for the third book from the left.

It was a worn copy of Wuthering Heights. She opened it-and gasped.

A folded photograph slipped out, falling onto the floor.

Her blood ran cold.

It was a picture of her. Taken months ago, at a café near campus. She was laughing, her hair loose around her shoulders, sunlight catching her face.

Bianca's vision swam. How-how could it be there? She had never seen this picture before.

Her phone buzzed. "Told you I was real."

She staggered back, pressing a hand over her mouth. Her mind raced, torn between terror and disbelief. How long had he been watching her? How long had he been here, close enough to slip things into her life without her knowing?

The door burst open. Dede stormed in, mid-sentence. "Okay, I've been thinking, and we need-" She froze at Bianca's pale face and the photo trembling in her hands. "What is that?"

Bianca's lips parted, but no words came out. She handed it to her silently.

Dede's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no. No, no, no. This is obsession, Bianca. He's not just playing online anymore. He's inside your life."

Bianca shook her head frantically. "I didn't put it there. It just-fell out. And then he-he texted me to look."

Dede grabbed the phone, scrolling through the messages. Her face darkened. "This isn't love. This is control. He wants you scared, dependent. That's how men like him work."

But Bianca wasn't sure. Jace's words didn't feel like control. They felt like protection.

Safe from yourself.

Why would he say that?

Her phone buzzed again. Dede almost threw it, but Bianca snatched it back.

"Trust me, Bianca. The truth is coming. But you have to choose me before it destroys you."

Her fingers trembled. She wanted to scream, to demand answers-but she also wanted to believe him.

"What if he's telling the truth?" she whispered.

Dede stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "Truth? Bianca, he's stalking you, not saving you!"

Bianca pressed her hand to her chest, her pulse racing. "But why do I feel like I've known him forever? Like he's part of me somehow?"

Dede shook her head in disbelief. "That's not fate, B. That's manipulation. You need to wake up."

But Bianca couldn't. Not when every word Jace sent lit up her blood like fire. Not when even the danger felt like destiny.

---

That night, Bianca sat awake long after Dede had fallen asleep on the couch. The room was silent, but her heart was loud, pounding with questions.

Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

"Still awake, Bianca? Step onto your balcony."

She froze. Her chest tightened as her gaze slid toward the glass doors. The curtains swayed faintly in the midnight breeze.

Her heart whispered yes. Her mind screamed no.

Slowly, barefoot, she pushed the curtains aside and stepped into the night.

The city hummed in the distance, a thousand lights flickering like stars.

Then she saw him.

Not across the street this time. Not in a picture.

But standing in the alley below her balcony, looking up at her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Jace.

He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood there, his face tilted toward hers, eyes catching the moonlight.

The phone buzzed again. She lifted it with trembling hands.

"Jump, Bianca. I'll catch you."

Her knees buckled. She clutched the railing, torn between terror and a wild, inexplicable desire.

Jace's voice seemed to rise from the shadows, though his lips never moved: "Trust me."

Her pulse hammered, her body trembling as the night held its breath.

And before she could decide, the balcony light flickered-and went out.

Darkness swallowed her whole.