Kate didn’t notice it at first.

A comment she didn’t remember liking. A post she swore she never wrote. Messages marked read that she hadn’t opened. She told herself it was a glitch. She told herself that until her phone buzzed while she was sitting on your couch.

She glanced at the screen and went pale. “I—” she stood abruptly. “I need the bathroom.”

She left the phone on the coffee table. You hadn’t meant to look. But the screen lit up again.

A message preview slid down from the top: "You should stop pretending this scares you. You’ve always liked being seen"

Your jaw tightened.

Another message followed before the screen dimmed.

"You’re safer than you think. For now"

When Kate came back, you were still sitting exactly where she’d left you. Calm. Too calm.

“You okay?” you asked.

She nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just… tired.” You watched her carefully. “Kate. Someone’s messaging you.”

Her breath caught. “You saw it.”

“I saw enough,” you said gently. “This isn’t random.”

She sank into the armchair across from you, fingers pressed to her temples. “They’re inside everything. My photos. My drafts. Things I never posted.”

“That explains the timing,” you said.

She looked up sharply. “Timing?”

“The messages arrive when you’re alone,” you replied. “Or when you feel most in control.”

Kate stared at you. “How do you know that?”

You hesitated. “Because that’s how intimidation works.”

Silence filled the room. “You think they know me,” she said quietly.

“I think they want you to think that,” you answered. “Which means you still have leverage.”

Her laugh was shaky. “That’s comforting in a terrifying way.”

You leaned forward. “Kate, listen to me. Don’t respond. Don’t change anything online. Let them think you’re unaware.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You sound very sure.”

“I am,” you said. “Fear feeds attention. Attention feeds escalation.”

She studied your face, searching for cracks. “Why are you so calm?”

You met her gaze. “Because panic is contagious. And you need one of us thinking clearly.”

Another buzz. Kate flinched. This time, the message was shorter. He’s watching you read this.

Her breath hitched. “They know I’m not alone.”

You didn’t look at the phone. You looked at her.

“Then let them,” you said quietly. “You’re not hiding.”

Kate swallowed. “You’re not scared?” “I’m alert,” you replied. “There’s a difference.”

She nodded slowly, steadied by your certainty even as it unsettled her.