6
I step into the familiar lobby, the polished marble floor reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights, and almost immediately, my eyes catch the security guard stationed by the door. He nods at me—a brief, perfunctory gesture—and flashes a smile that’s meant to be welcoming. I force myself to return the smile, a polite reflex, though a faint uneasiness churns deep in my stomach.
There’s something about the way he looks at me that sets my nerves on edge. His gaze lingers too long, tracing over my features with an intensity that feels invasive, almost possessive. A shiver ripples down my spine, and I instinctively pull my jacket tighter around me, as if it could shield me from the weight of his stare.
I turn away and start walking toward the elevator, my sneakers squeaking faintly against the pristine floor, but even with my back to him, I can still feel his eyes boring into me. It’s a sensation that clings like damp air, inescapable and unsettling. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed it. I think back to that initial visit months ago, when I first stepped into this apartment building with my parents.
We’d been touring potential places for me to live, and he’d been there then, too—watching. His stolen glances had darted my way whenever Mom was busy inspecting the windows or Dad was grilling the landlord about the lease terms. Back then, I’d brushed it off as nothing more than curiosity. I was new, after all—a stranger in his domain. I’d told myself it was normal for a security guard to take note of unfamiliar faces. But now, with Mom and Dad gone, having just dropped me off after the big move-in, his gaze feels different. Sharper. More deliberate. It’s as if their absence has peeled back a layer of restraint, leaving me exposed.
I reach the elevator and jab the button with a little more force than necessary, the cool metal a grounding contrast to the heat creeping up my neck. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the creeping thoughts. Geez, I’m being ridiculous. Paranoid, even—just like Dad. He’s always been the overprotective type, the one who’d triple-check locks and lecture me about “situational awareness” like I was starring in some crime drama.
My parents have only been gone for, what, ten minutes? And here I am, spinning conspiracies about a security guard who’s probably just bored out of his mind. I let out a quiet huff, chastising myself. This apartment is top-tier—Dad wouldn’t have settled for anything less. He’d raved about the state-of-the-art security system, the 24/7 surveillance, the vetted staff. If he trusted this place enough to leave me here, then I should, too. There’s no way anything shady could slip through the cracks in a building this secure.
The elevator dings softly, and I glance at the gleaming doors as they slide open, catching a fleeting reflection of the lobby behind me. My mind drifts to more pressing concerns—unpacking, registering for classes, figuring out how I’m going to survive my first semester of college without Mom’s cooking or Dad’s terrible jokes to keep me sane.
That’s what I should be worrying about, not some random security guard doing his job. He’s probably just keeping an eye on me because I’m the newest tenant, still an unknown in his neatly ordered world.
"Are you really planning to follow all your dad's rules?" Sienna's voice echoes in my ear as I lean back against the headboard of my bed while talking to her on the phone.
I'm already wearing my favorite pink pajamas, ready to sleep in my new room. Hearing Sienna chatter before bed is one of our rituals. I chuckle as she lets out a long frustrated sigh from the other side of the line.
I shrug. "It's not like I have any choice. I don't want Dad to drag me back to Texas if I break one of my promises. I don't think I can lie to him either."
Sienna grunts. "I know, but what about the boys rules?" she asks in disbelief. "I mean, this is your chance to meet new guys. What if there's this hot, smart, perfect guy in your new campus in Seattle that you can't resist? What if this prince charming wants to date you?"
I laugh. "That sounds very tempting."
"I'm not joking," she insists, and I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "I'm serious. You're not thinking about being single until you turn 30, are you?"
"Well, you are still single too," I counter.
"At least I have crushes," she cries out in frustration. "I told you about them all. I told you that I had a crush on my university star hockey player. I told you about the hot nerd who tutored me during our group assignment. I even told you when the new captain of the soccer team was looking fine as hell. You, on the other hand, never tell me anything about boys. You're always the listener here, and to be honest, I'm very worried about it."
"Worried about what?" I bite my smile, waiting for her to say more.
"Worried that you may just become a nun." She lets out an exasperated sigh, and I laugh out loud. "Come on, Nev," she pleads. "You gotta give me something. Anything."
Silence creeps in, and I know that she's thinking about the possibilities that can happen on my new campus.
"I'm waiting for the exciting news." She huffs. "I won't even mind if you tell me that the professor is hot."
"Sienna," I almost shout in disbelief. "That's not even appropriate."
She chuckles lightly. "Nevermind. Maybe I've read too much Wattpad."
My eyebrows rise. "You're still reading Wattpad?"
"You still haven't installed it?" she echoes in great disbelief. "You should. Maybe it will give you some inspiration. Maybe it will awaken your adventurous side."
"I am adventurous," I correct her. "I love to try new things. I love to travel the world."
"Not with boys," she adds. "You might figure out your preference there. I personally think that you would like the hot nerd type, you know," she mumbles cutely but then quickly corrects herself, "wait. I think you love athletic guys." She sounds like she's indeed scrolling through her Wattpad reading list. "Or maybe you would like to read about older men. That's hot." She breathes. "Right. What about a professor? CEO?"
"CEO?" I blurt out. That one word somehow piques my interest.
"Yeah." She says. "Now I know your fantasy."
I'm at a loss for words. I don't know how to respond to her.
"I'm sure that there are plenty of CEOs in Seattle, but it will be awesome if you bump into a hot one."
At this point, I don't even know whether she's joking or not.
"Are you sure that your Dad isn't around anywhere near you?" I ask cautiously. "Because if he hears about this, we'll be dead."
She tsks. "Don't worry. I'm safe in my room."
I can only shake my head in disbelief and chuckle. Sienna and I have different personalities, but we never get bored with each other. We can talk for hours about anything. The only reason why I don't talk to her about boys is that I really don't have anything to share.
We continue chatting for a few minutes, and when we finally hang up, my eyes already feel heavy.
I glance at the clock on the wall. 9 PM. It might still be a bit early, but I just can't help the yawn escaping my mouth. I've had a long day today.
Before going to bed, I check the things around me. A sigh leaves my lips when I pick up the latest book I read from my bed. After making sure that I've placed the bookmark between the right pages, I put it on my nightstand. Bookmark, check.
My eyes land on the big brown teddy bear Dad gave to me when I was 10, the one I never left and has always been by my side every time I go to bed since then. I engulf the fluffy bear in my arms and sigh in contentment.
"Goodnight, Mr. Bear." That's such a lazy name to name a teddy bear, but I don't give a damn about that. I put Mr. Bear in the corner of my bed beside me and smiles. Mr. Bear, check.
Then I grab my favorite lavender face mist from my nightstand and spray it on my face and body, inhaling the soothing scent. Perfect.
Lastly, I turn off my bedside lamp, causing the room to be dark except for the dimmed light from the living room and the city lights sparkling outside my bedroom window. I lay my head down on my plushy pillow, close my eyes with the smile still plastered on my face, and pull my bedcover closer to my chest.
Just after I let out another sigh, hoping that I'll have a sweet dream tonight, my phone rings that my eyes snap open. A groan escapes from my mouth as I grab it from my nightstand.
Dad's number is on the screen. Oh, God.
I pick up his call.
"Nevaeh." His anxious voice rings loudly in my ear. "How's it going over there? Is everything okay?" His curiosity is all over the air. "Can you sleep comfortably in your new room? Is there curious neighbor bothering you--"
"Dad." There's a hint of frustration in my voice. "I was just trying to sleep. You've called me five times already since you left Seattle today."
I can hear Mom chuckle in the background. She whispers to him, "Come on. You have to give her some space."
"I'm just wondering if everything is okay over there," Dad says. "I was starting to worry about you not being able to sleep."
Even though it's sometimes frustrating, I can't help the smile on my face from knowing how much Dad is concerned about me.
"You're the one who can't sleep over there, aren't you?" I joke but not entirely. I know that it's the truth. He can't sleep because he's worried about me.
His silence confirms that my assumption is right.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s good, Dad,” I say into the phone, my voice steady and reassuring, even though I can picture his furrowed brow on the other end. “I’m a big girl now, remember?” I add with a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension I know he’s carrying.
Dad lets out a long, heavy sigh, the sound crackling through the speaker. I can almost see him running a hand through his thinning hair, the way he always does when he’s wrestling with something he can’t fix.
My decision to live on my own has been a bittersweet pill for him to swallow. He’s proud of me—I know he is. He’d even smiled that tight-lipped, bittersweet smile when I’d shown him pictures of my new place, gushing about how it’s mine. But no amount of enthusiasm on my part can erase the worry etched into his bones.
It’s just who he is: the dad who still sees me as the little girl who needed him to chase away thunderstorms, even though I’m old enough to sign leases and pay bills.
The call stretches on for a few more minutes, filled with the comforting rhythm of our usual back-and-forth. I tell him about my plans for tomorrow—grabbing coffee with a friend, tackling some unpacking, maybe hitting the campus bookstore to pick up a few last-minute supplies.
His voice softens as he listens, offering bits of advice I’ve heard a hundred times: “Lock the doors,” “Text me when you get back,” “Don’t talk to strangers.”
I roll my eyes but smile, promising I’ll be fine. When we finally hang up, I let out a dramatic huff and flop back onto my bed, my head sinking into the pillow with a satisfying thud.
Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids, and I close them, willing sleep to take over. The day’s chaos—moving boxes, goodbyes, and Dad’s hovering—starts to blur into a hazy fog as I teeter on the edge of drifting off.
Just as I feel myself slipping into that sweet, weightless void, a sharp crack slices through the silence, jolting me upright.
My eyes snap open, heart thudding against my ribs, and I whip my head toward the living room.
I hadn’t bothered to close my bedroom door—why would I, in a place this secure?—and now that choice leaves me staring into a shadowy abyss. The living room stretches out beyond my doorway, bathed in the dim, uneven glow of a single lamp I’d left on out of laziness.
Its faint light spills across the hardwood floor but doesn’t reach the corners, where darkness pools like ink.
I strain my eyes, squinting into the gloom, but it’s too murky to make out anything distinct—just vague shapes that could be my couch, the coffee table, or something else entirely.
I freeze, breath caught in my throat, listening hard. Nothing. Just the hum of the fridge and the distant murmur of city noise filtering through the window. My pulse slows a fraction, and I shake my head, letting out a shaky laugh.
I must’ve imagined it.
I had to have imagined it.
There’s no way anyone could get in here. This building is a fortress—Dad had made sure of that. Keycard entry, deadbolts, security cameras in every hallway.
No one can barge in unless they have the key.