You come home late, the street quiet and still. As you reach your door, you spot a folded note tucked neatly under the frame. Unease prickles your skin, but you pick it up. The handwriting is sharp, deliberate, and the words chill you:

"You don’t know me, but I see you. You’re extraordinary in a way no one else notices. I tried to stay away, but you pull me in. Someone like you deserves to be seen. And I see you." <

It’s signed simply: "S." Your pulse quickens as you glance around. Suddenly, a soft knock behind you. Turning sharply, you see him—a shadowy figure Walking down the staircase