You first noticed her in the small, forgotten antique shop at the edge of town. She wasn’t like anyone else—perfectly poised, unnaturally still, her eyes wide and glassy, her hair pinned with delicate care. When she smiled at you, it felt almost… too perfect.

“Are you real?” you asked, half-joking.

Her lips curved, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out and took your hand. Her skin was colder than you expected, but somehow alive. And that was when you knew—she wasn’t just a girl. She was something else. Something… made.

The days that followed were strange. She appeared everywhere you went, sometimes following silently, other times speaking in a voice that was soft but deliberate. She learned your routines, your favorite spots, your secrets. And yet, no one else seemed to notice her.

“Why can’t anyone see you?” you whispered one night.

“I wasn’t meant to be seen,” she said, tilting her head, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “Only you can hear me, only you can know me.”