Chapter 2 ☆

It started with the car.

I told myself it was nothing. A coincidence. A guest at one of the nearby estates. A passing executive with too much time on his hands. But today marks the fourth morning it's been there - same spot, same angle, same dark glass.

Still no license plate.

Still no movement.

I saw it again as I stepped out onto the balcony, tea in hand, trying to shake off the feeling I couldn't quite name. The garden below shimmered like always - washed in sunlight, blooming in soft pinks and creams - but the peace I usually felt didn't come.

I don't know what it is exactly. Just this... shift in the air.

Like something holding its breath.

I tried to push it aside. I had work to do - or at least, sketches to review. I've been drafting plans for the winery, and I keep changing the entrance. It's silly. But something about the original design just feels too exposed. Too open. I want it to feel warm and grounded, but now every time I draw it, all I see is how vulnerable it looks.

I walked the garden path anyway, same as always, feet brushing over dew-slick gravel, the hem of my robe catching on lavender stems. My sketchpad was pressed against my chest, my tablet tucked under my arm, but I barely touched either. My mind kept circling back to that car. To the sharp glint of tinted glass and how it hadn't budged even once.

I sat on the stone bench near the fountain and tried to steady my thoughts. The koi drifted lazily through the water. Bees buzzed near the rosemary.

Everything looked normal.

But it didn't feel normal.

I glanced at the phone sitting beside me.The screen lit up before I could pick it up.

Unknown Number.

I stared at it. My heart dropped straight into my stomach.I should've let it ring. I should've walked away.Instead, I answered.

"Hello?"

At first, nothing. Just air. Like someone breathing.

Then-

"You shouldn't walk alone, Ava."

My whole body went cold.

"What-" My voice cracked. "Who is this?"

Click.

The line went dead.

I just sat there, frozen, staring at the screen like it might explain itself. But it didn't. It just went back to black.

Dead quiet.

I looked up at the garden like it might've changed while I wasn't paying attention. Like something - or someone - might suddenly appear. But there was no one.

Just butterflies and sunlight and silence that no longer felt safe.

I stood too fast. My sketchpad slipped from my lap and landed open on the gravel. I didn't pick it up. I just walked - fast - back toward the house, every footstep too loud, too hollow.

Inside, I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it.

For a long time, I just stood there in the entryway, one hand against the wood, the other clutching my phone like it could protect me.

Was it a prank?

Someone from school?

But how would they know where I was? Or when I walk the garden? Or that I always come alone?

I wanted to tell someone. I thought about calling my father. But what would I even say?

"Hi, I think I'm being watched. Someone called me and sounded like a ghost."

He'd brush it off. Tell me I was overthinking again.

So instead, I went upstairs and closed all the windows. I didn't draw the curtains - that would've felt like surrender. But I kept glancing out, just to check.

The car was still there.

Still dark.

Still waiting.