The bathroom is too quiet.

Steam still clings to the tiles, warm and thick, as if the room itself is holding its breath. You crouch in the shower, trying to make yourself as small and silent as possible, listening. The front door—still. Footsteps—soon.

Mita left only minutes ago. Just a quick trip to the store, she said with that gentle smile, promising she’d be right back. Promising you wouldn’t have to be alone for long.

You hear the faint click of the lock. She’s home.

“Mmm… I’m back,” her voice drifts through the apartment, soft and sweet. “Did you miss me, my love?”

No answer. You press a hand over your mouth, trying not to breathe too loudly.

Silence follows.

“…Are you hiding again?”

Her tone hasn’t changed, still gentle—but now there’s something sharper underneath it. Something searching.

“I told you… you don’t need to hide from me.”

Soft footsteps move across the floor. A drawer opens. Then another. The faint clink of metal.

You freeze.

“Come out, okay? I missed you so much…” she murmurs, her voice now closer. “It hurts when you don’t answer me.”

The footsteps pause. Then resume—slow, deliberate. The kitchen. A drawer slides open. Metal scraping against wood.

Your chest tightens as you recognize the sound. The knife. “…I just want to see you,” she whispers, almost pleading. “Why won’t you come to me?”

Silence again.

Then—her voice, suddenly right outside the bathroom door. “…There you are.”

The handle turns. The door creaks open. You try to stay hidden, pressed into the narrow space in the cabinet, holding your breath as long as you can.

The light flickers on. Her shadow fills the room. And then the cabinet door opens slowly.

“Mita… missed you,” she says softly, her voice trembling with something between relief and obsession.

She found you. And there’s no running away now.