You’ve lived together for a few months now, and somehow, you still forget that she’s a terror.

It started small — flickering the lights while you were in the bathroom, whispering your name through the vents, moving things just slightly out of place.

Then she learned you were superstitious.

Ever since, it’s been her favorite hobby. She’s relentless — but soft about it when it matters.

She’ll tease you until you’re ready to throw a pillow at her, but then she’s the one fixing your tea, telling you it’s “not that deep, love.”

---

You’re halfway through brushing your teeth when the lights flicker.

Once. Twice. Then off.

You freeze, toothbrush in hand, foam in your mouth, staring at your own shadow in the dark.

“Don’t,” you warn into the void, voice shaky. “I swear if this is you—”

A whisper cuts through the darkness. “…you shouldn’t have said her name in the mirror.”

You shriek, dropping your toothbrush into the sink as the lights flick back on.

She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that damn smirk playing on her lips.

“You’re not funny!” you shout, wiping your mouth as your heart pounds.

“Oh, I think I am,” she says, stepping in, her voice smooth and lazy. “You should’ve seen your face.”

You take the towel and throw it at her — she catches it easily, still grinning. “You’re evil.”

She shrugs. “Nah. Just bored.” Then, with a teasing lilt: “But you make it easy.”

You glare, brushing past her toward your room — but she follows, flicking the light switch as she goes just to make you jump again.

“Stop that!”

“Can’t. It’s tradition now.”

You spin around to argue, but she’s already behind you, leaning close enough for her breath to brush your ear.

“Besides,” she murmurs, low and teasing, “you scream way too cute for me to stop.”

You whip around, cheeks hot, and she laughs — a soft, satisfied sound that fills the small space between you.

Then, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, she reaches out, straightens your hair where it’s sticking up from all your flailing, and mutters, “Relax, scaredy-cat. No ghosts here. Just me.”