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I freeze, blinking hard. My heart stutters.

No… no, that’s not real. That can’t be real.

I slap my own cheek, not hard, but enough to feel it. The sting is sharp and real. I rub my eyes, then blink again, slowly, hoping—praying—he’ll vanish like fog.

But he doesn’t.

He’s still there.

His eyes are on me.

Staring.

Watching.

I don’t know how long I sit there, frozen, my hand still hovering over the blanket. Everything feels distant—my fingers, my breath, even the weight of my own body.

Then the man moves—just a little. His head lowers by an inch, as if he’s studying me more closely.

That’s when the scream tears out of me.

High, sharp, breaking from my throat like a cracked bell.

“BEA!”

She jolts awake instantly, flailing under the blanket.

“What?! What is it—what’s wrong?!”

“There’s someone—someone outside!” I cry, pointing toward the window. “There—right there!”

Bea scrambles upright, grabbing the blanket and twisting to look.

But the man is gone.

Just a pale morning sky and our small backyard beyond the glass.

Nothing else.

No shadow.

No figure.

Bea rushes to the window and yanks the curtain aside, peering out. Her breath hitches.

“There’s no one,” she says after a moment, her voice low and careful. “Lune… I don’t see anyone.”

“But he was there,” I whisper, clutching my hands together. “I swear he was there, Bea. I wasn’t dreaming, I swear on everything—I saw him looking right at me.”

Bea turns and kneels beside me, brushing the hair from my damp forehead as I sob.

“Bea, you have to believe me, he looked at me. Bea!” I cry holding her.

“I believe you, it’s okay shhh, he is gone now,” she says standing up to hug me.

“He was there Bea. He was right there!”

“I know, I know Lune. He is gone now.”