I sit on the couch for what feels like hours, clutching Tyler's watch so tightly it hurts. The candles flicker in the dim light, their soft glow making shadows dance across the walls. The music hums quietly in the background, but it's not comforting anymore. The room feels wrong now, heavy, like the air is filled with a presence I can't see but can feel. Like I'm being watched.

Max sits beside me, his eyes wide and alert. He hasn't stopped pacing since the knock at the door, his body tense, ready to react to something he doesn't understand. I stroke his fur absentmindedly, my mind too consumed with the impossible reality in my hands.

Tyler's watch. How is this here? It's a question I keep asking myself, over and over, but no answer comes. All I can do is stare at the familiar curves of the metal, at the initials on the back.

T.B.

Clear, unmistakable. This was his.

I close my eyes, trying to force the flood of memories back, but they rush over me anyway. I can see Tyler grinning as he leaned against the counter in our old kitchen, his arms crossed, wearing this very watch on his wrist. He always had it on—like it was a part of him. He'd check the time every morning before leaving for work, tapping the face of it absentmindedly whenever he was lost in thought.

I squeeze the watch tighter, my chest aching with the weight of everything I've lost. It feels like he's so close, like if I just close my eyes and reach out, he'll be standing beside me, grinning that crooked grin, ready to pull me into his arms.

But he's not here. Not really.

I open my eyes, blinking back tears, and stare down at the watch again. The red ribbon is still wrapped loosely around it, the fabric soft between my fingers. I run my thumb over it, remembering the last time I used a ribbon like this—the surprise birthday gift I'd wrapped for him last year.

Tyler's real birthday is November 2nd.

I'd planned everything perfectly for his 24th birthday. We were supposed to take a trip to Greece, something I'd been planning for weeks. Greek food has always been his favorite, after all he was half-Greek. It was going to be a surprise. He had no idea. I had the whole thing ready—a quiet intimate space in Mykonos, a tour around Athens, and a perfect date to the best restaurant in Mykonos. I'd found a local Mykonos bakery that would help make his and his mother's favorite cake, Baklava. Everything was supposed to be perfect.

But now? There's nothing. No trip. No celebration. Just this empty apartment, this flickering candlelight, this haunting silence. And this watch that shouldn't exist.

The idea that had crept into my mind earlier returns, stronger now. What if this is Tyler trying to reach me? What if the strange occurrences, the voicemail, the knocking—what if it's all connected? What if he's still here, trying to tell me something, trying to communicate?

It sounds crazy. I know that. But at this point, I don't know what else to believe. I've seen too much, heard too much, to ignore it anymore. There's something happening here. Something I can't explain.

I reach for my phone, still lying on the coffee table, and glance at the screen. It's almost 9 PM. The candles are burning low, and the soft hum of the music is starting to fade. The apartment feels quieter now, almost too quiet, like the air is holding its breath.

Without really thinking, I scroll to Tyler's contact in my phone. His number is still saved—of course it is. I haven't been able to bring myself to delete it. My thumb hovers over the call button for a second, my heart pounding in my chest. It's ridiculous. He's not going to pick up. He can't.

But still, I press the button.

The phone rings once. Twice. The sound is sharp in the quiet apartment, cutting through the air like a knife.

A third ring. My breath catches in my throat.

Then, just as I'm about to hang up, it goes straight to voicemail.

"Hey, this is Tyler. I'm probably busy but leave a message and I'll get back to you."

I close my eyes as his recorded voice fills the room, the ache in my chest sharp and raw. The tone beeps, and for a moment, I just sit there, the phone pressed to my ear, not saying anything.

Then, in a murmur, I speak.

"Tyler... if you're there... if you can hear me... I'm listening."

I hang up before I can second-guess myself, my hands shaking as I drop the phone onto the couch. My heart is pounding, my pulse racing in my ears. I don't know what I expect to happen. Nothing, probably. Just more silence.

But then, the stereo clicks off.

The music stops abruptly, plunging the apartment into an eerie stillness. The candles flicker, their flames dancing as if stirred by a breeze, though the windows are shut tight.

I sit frozen, my body tense, my breath shallow. Max lets out a low whine, his body pressed against my leg, his ears pinned back. He knows something's wrong. I know it too.

The silence stretches on, thick and oppressive, pressing down on me like a weight. I feel like I'm drowning in it, suffocating. My heart races, my mind spinning with thoughts I can't control. The air feels charged, electric, like something is about to happen.

And then I hear it.

A soft whisper, barely audible, but unmistakable.

"Ettie..."

It's Tyler's voice.

My blood runs cold, every nerve in my body going rigid. The voice is faint, like it's coming from far away, but it's clear enough for me to recognize it.

"Tyler?" I whisper, my voice shaky, my heart thudding in my chest. "Is that you?"

There's no response. Just silence.

I sit there for a moment, my mind racing, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I want to believe it's him. I want to believe that somehow, he's still here, trying to reach me. But at the same time, the fear is building inside me, growing stronger with every passing second.

I stand up slowly, my legs shaky beneath me, and glance around the room. The shadows seem longer now, darker, like they're closing in on me. I feel a cold shiver run down my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to push back the fear.

"Tyler?" I whisper again, but the apartment remains silent.

I turn toward the hallway, my eyes landing on the closet door. The door is slightly ajar, just a crack, but it feels like a gaping hole in the darkness. I swallow hard, my heart pounding as I step toward it.

The whisper comes again, softer this time, almost pleading.

"Ettie..."

I freeze, my hand on the closet door handle, my breath catching in my throat. I know I should turn back. I know I should stop this. But something pulls me forward, something I can't explain. Something that feels like Tyler.

With trembling hands, I pull the closet door open. Inside, it's dark, the shadows thick and heavy. But there, on the floor, is something I didn't expect to see.

A letter.

My breath hitches as I reach for it, my fingers trembling. The paper is worn, the edges creased, like it's been handled too many times. I turn it over slowly, my heart pounding in my chest.

It's addressed to me. In Tyler's handwriting.

I stare at the letter, my mind racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. This doesn't make sense. Tyler's been gone for over a week. How could he have written this?

My hands shake as I open the envelope, pulling out the single sheet of paper inside. The words are scrawled in a hurry, the ink smudged in places, but it's definitely Tyler's handwriting. There's no mistaking it.

Ettie, if you're reading this, then something's wrong. I didn't want to tell you before, but I've been feeling like... like something's been watching me. Following me. I don't know what it is, but it's getting worse. I'm scared, Ettie. Scared that it's not just in my head. If something happens to me... if I disappear... I need you to know that I love you. But don't look for me. Please, don't look for me!

-Your one and only,

T

The letter slips from my hands, fluttering to the floor as I stumble back, my heart racing, my mind spinning.

Don't look for me?!

The words echo in my head, louder and louder, until I can barely think straight. What did Tyler mean? What was he talking about? What was watching him?

I feel a cold wave of dread wash over me, my pulse racing as I stare down at the letter on the floor. The shadows around me seem to grow darker, closing in, suffocating me.

I don't know what's happening. I don't know what's real anymore.

But one thing is certain.

Tyler knew. He knew something was wrong. And now... now I'm caught in the middle of it.