She moved into her new home in a quiet, upscale neighborhood, where soft lights cast the shadows of trees onto the clean sidewalks. She didn't know much about her neighbors, but the house next door always caught her attention. It seemed inhabited by someone who rarely appeared, yet she always felt mysterious gazes following her as she passed by.

One evening, curiosity led her to visit. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. The door was slightly ajar, and with an involuntary movement, she pushed it open to find it unlocked. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. The house was eerily tidy, like a carefully prepared stage; its scent familiar, yet she couldn't place it.

Her feet were drawn to the hallway leading to the bedroom. As soon as she placed her hand on the doorknob, it suddenly swung open, and before she could comprehend what was happening, she felt a strong hand pull her inside and shut the door behind her. She tried to scream, but astonishment tied her tongue.

He stood before her, his eyes gleaming with something she didn't understand, while she stared around in astonishment. The walls were covered with pictures of her—some from her high school days, others recent ones she didn't remember ever having taken. There was a small shelf with familiar objects—her perfume bottle she thought she'd lost, her old comb, and even a piece of her underwear she couldn't fathom how it ended up here.

"Finally... you're here," he said in a quiet voice, yet with a strange tremor.