The next morning, Amara's world felt different. The familiar streets seemed stranger, every glance from a passerby sharper, every shadow longer. The encounter from yesterday haunted her like a ghost whispering in her ear. Who was that man, and what exactly had he meant by "people are watching you"?
Amara sat at the kitchen table of her modest apartment, a steaming mug of tea between her hands, but the warmth did little to ease her nerves. Her phone buzzed Lena again. She'd ignored several of her best friend's messages last night. She just hadn't known how to explain what had happened.
Lena: Still alive? You vanished on me yesterday. Spill.
Amara sighed and typed back quickly.
Amara: I'll tell you everything. Meet me at Jasper's Café at 4?
The reply came instantly.
Lena:I'll be there. You better have a good story.
Amara spent the rest of the day going through the motions classes, errands, small talk. But her thoughts were elsewhere. That man's eyes, his urgency, the way he melted into the crowd like a shadow. And most of all, his words: "You don't know me, but you need to be careful."
By the time 4 p.m. rolled around, the weather had turned grey. Jasper's Café, their favorite little spot off campus, was half-full. Amara secured their usual corner booth. The scent of cinnamon rolls and espresso wafted in the air, comforting, though her nerves remained taut.
Lena arrived in a flash of red curls and wide eyes. "Okay, spill. You've been acting like a ghost since yesterday."
Amara hesitated, then recounted every detail the rain, the books, the stranger, the warning, his sudden disappearance. Lena listened quietly, her expression shifting from amusement to concern.
"He just said people were watching you? And then vanished?" Lena asked, leaning in.
Amara nodded. "It sounds crazy. I thought maybe I imagined it. But he was serious. He looked… scared."
"Are you sure he wasn't just some conspiracy nut?" Lena tried to joke, but her voice lacked conviction.
"I don't think so. It felt real, Lena."
A silence fell between them. Then Lena spoke softly, "You don't think it has anything to do with you know, your dad?"
Amara's stomach twisted. Her father the man who'd died under mysterious circumstances three years ago. A brilliant investigative journalist who had made powerful enemies.
"I don't know," Amara whispered. "I've tried to stay away from all of that. I've built a quiet life. This shouldn't be happening."
They sat in silence for a while before Lena finally said, "Okay. If you think someone's watching you, we need to be smart. Start paying attention to patterns. Don't walk alone. Keep your doors locked. And Amara"
Amara looked up.
"If this gets serious you have to go to the police."
Amara nodded, though her gut told her the police might not be able to help.
When she returned home that evening, the sky had darkened. Rain started to fall again, light and steady. She stepped into her apartment, locked the door, and leaned back against it.
Something felt off.
She walked slowly toward her desk and froze.
An envelope lay neatly at the center of the table.
She hadn't left it there.
Her pulse quickened as she approached. The envelope was unmarked, sealed. Her name wasn't on it. With trembling fingers, she opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Her breath caught.
It was her standing outside Jasper's Café earlier today. The photo was taken from across the street. She was alone, unaware. But someone had been watching. Someone close enough to capture her every move.
The photo slipped from her fingers and floated to the floor.
This was no joke.
The stranger had told the truth.
And whoever was watching her had just made their presence known.