It was just past midnight.

The rest of the house was swallowed in darkness, the only source of light coming from the dim lamp beside the couch where you sat curled up, reading. The pages of your book were bathed in soft amber light, casting long shadows that danced on the walls with every movement.

You were alone — the kind of stillness that felt sacred after a long, exhausting day. Outside, the wind whistled through the trees, rattling the occasional branch against the windowpane.

You barely noticed.

You were too focused, too lost in the story unraveling between your hands. The silence was comforting. Familiar. Until—

CRACK.

Your head snapped up.

A sound — sharp and sudden — echoed from outside. Like something heavy stepping on a branch. Right near your front yard.

You froze, eyes darting toward the window. It was hard to see anything beyond the curtain, but something inside you stirred. That little voice in the back of your mind whispering, "Someone’s out there."

You waited.

Nothing.

Just the wind.

Probably a stray animal, you told yourself. Or a neighbor.

You shook your head and tried to focus again, lowering your eyes to the book — but the words no longer made sense. They blurred into each other, meaningless and cold. You could feel it now… that unsettling presence. Like the air had changed. Grown heavier.

Still, you stayed where you were.

You weren’t going to let paranoia get to you.

THUMP.

Another sound.

Closer this time.

You turned your head slowly toward the hallway, your skin prickling with a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. You waited. The lamp flickered — just once — then steadied again.

Your heart was beating faster now.

Then, just as you were about to stand up and check the door— your phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You stared at the screen.

Buzz. Buzz.

You hesitated… then answered.

"Hello?"

There was silence at first. Then— (On the phone) "What’s the book about?"

You froze.

The voice was deep, distorted. Unfamiliar.

Your eyes slowly scanned the room.

"Who is this?" You asked again A pause.

(On the phone) "Just a fan of late-night readers… you looked so cozy, I didn’t want to interrupt. But you left your curtains open. Naughty."

Your stomach dropped.

Curtains. You turned your head toward the window again. A faint movement outside. A shadow. Maybe.

You shot up from the couch.

"If this is a joke, it’s not funny—" You said

Unknown, in the phone, interrupting): "It’s not a joke. It’s a question. What's the book about?"