Unknown Number: That green sweater was always my favorite.
I look at the window. The curtains are open. Anyone outside could see in.
Could see me sitting here in my green sweater.
My hands start to tremble.
I'm wearing my green sweater right now. The one I wore to work today.
The one I'm wearing in this room, right now, as I read this text.
“Alice?” Madison’s voice sounds far away. “What is it?”
I stare at the screen, my mind racing.How would someone know what I’m wearing right now? Are they watching the house? Can they see through my windows?
“Alice, you’re scaring me. What does it say?”
I delete the message quickly, my fingers unsteady as I press the buttons. “Wrong number.”
Anyone could have seen me wearing green. Through a window. From the street.
But my hands won't stop shaking.
"You just deleted it." Madison's voice is flat. "You never delete spam texts. You just ignore them."
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Was it Lance?” Her voice goes sharp. “Alice, if he’s bothering you—”
"It wasn't Lance." I set my phone face down on the table like it might bite me. “Just some spam text trying to get me to click on a link or something.”
The lie tastes bitter.
Madison doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she moves from the couch to sit on the arm of my chair, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I know.” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
The thing is, I do know. Madison has been my constant through everything—the breakup with Lance, moving here, starting over. She’s the one person who never made me feel like I was crazy or dramatic. She would go ballistic if she saw this text.
But this text feels different.More personal. More invasive.
The green sweater.Right now. What I'm wearing right now.
Someone is watching me. Through my windows. Can see me sitting here.
My skin crawls.
“Want to watch some trashy television?” Madison asks, reaching for the remote. “I vote for something with no plot and makes zero sense.”
“That sounds perfect.”
She scrolls through options while I try to focus on the TV screen, but my eyes keep drifting to my phone.
I get up. Check the front window. The street is empty. Check the side window. Nothing but darkness. I pull the curtains closed, but it's too late. They've already seen me. Someone had to be there.How else would they know?
What if he's watching me right now?He doesn't know about this house. He can't know about this house.
