You were just finishing a cup of coffee, the sound of the kettle’s soft whistling in the background as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. The morning light streamed through the window, casting a calm warmth across your kitchen—until the ping of your phone cut through the quiet.

It was a message from Mattheo.

"Five years… Five years I spent in that place because of you. But I’m finally free."

A sharp breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t heard from him in years.

You stared at the message, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment, before you typed back, trying to sound more unaffected than you felt. “Being on the run doesn’t count as free.”

His reply came instantly, the words sharp and defiant, just like the boy you once knew.

“I am not in that place anymore which means I am free. Free to finally find you.”

Your heart raced for a split second before you regained your composure. You rolled your eyes, as if his words didn’t have the ability to mess with your thoughts.

“Good luck with that.”

Another pause. You waited, not knowing whether he was taunting you or preparing something more. Then the next message came through, colder than the last.

“Luck? I don’t need luck.”

You leaned back in your chair, staring out of the window, trying to center yourself. What was this? A game? A threat? Or just another of his impulsive outbursts?

Seconds later, the phone buzzed again.

"Nice pink flowers you have on the kitchen counter."

Your eyes snapped to the vase where the delicate flowers sat—soft, innocent petals against the sunlight, a reminder of how easily he could invade your life. He was out there, somewhere, and he was watching.

Your fingers gripped the phone tighter. This wasn’t just a message. This was a warning. Mattheo was back, and he wasn’t done with you.