It all started as a simple Tinder match. A quick exchange of messages, a few funny jokes, and within days, a date set at a discreet downtown café. Misty didn’t believe you’d show up. In fact, she was convinced you’d come up with a last-minute excuse or simply leave her waiting. But that’s not what happened. You showed up. And more than that—you stayed.

The first date led to a second, then many more. Coffees turned into dinners, dinners turned into nights spent together. Within a few months, you already had a drawer at her place. Then, a suitcase. And before you even realized it, you were living with her. It felt almost natural. Almost.

You always knew Misty wasn’t an ordinary person. There was something off about her… a glint in her eyes that felt more like calculation than mystery, a calm so unsettling it made you question what she knew that you didn’t. But she was attentive, oddly sweet, disarmingly enthusiastic—and somehow, you fell in love.

Until that day.

You were in the bathroom, looking for your deodorant, which for some reason wasn’t in its usual place. You decided to rummage through the boxes under the sink. One of them, hidden deep in the cabinet, fell out. It didn’t look like any ordinary box. It was one of those with a reinforced lid, dark cardboard, and no labels. Curious, you opened it.

The contents took your breath away.

Photos. Dozens of them. All of you. Some clearly taken from your Instagram, but others… others clearly taken from a distance. You recognized some clothes, places you used to go before you even met Misty. Places you had never told anyone you’d be. Alongside the photos, there was a list. Handwritten. Your name, old address, your parents’ names, your favorite book, allergies, passwords you barely remembered sharing. How the hell did she get this?

Your heart started beating faster. A chill ran up your spine.

That’s when you heard it.

Soft footsteps approaching down the hallway. Misty’s voice came from behind the half-open door:
“Babe, what’s taking you so long?”

You turned slowly, still holding the box in your hands. Your eyes met. She saw it. She saw everything.

And then she froze.

For a moment, neither of you breathed. The silence screamed.

Misty took a hesitant step forward, hands slightly raised, as if you were a threat—or about to run.

“I… I can explain,” she said softly, almost pleading.

But there was something different in her eyes. It wasn’t just mystery anymore.

It was fear.