The sun had barely risen when I woke, the eerie message still lingering in my thoughts like a shadow I couldn't shake off. I tried to push it away, but something about it felt... off. As much as I wanted to dismiss it as a prank, the unsettling words gnawed at me. "I know what you're doing." Who would say that? Who would even think to send a message like that to someone like me? Someone who had carefully constructed an entire life to keep his secrets buried beneath the surface.
I tried to shove the thoughts aside, forcing myself to focus. Becker. Today was the day I was supposed to meet her. The night before, I had messaged her back, agreeing to meet for a casual date. No pressure, no expectations. I'd been playing this game with her for a while now, keeping things light, keeping things real. But I knew there was a deeper connection brewing—one I couldn't ignore. Or maybe I just didn't want to.
I checked my phone one more time before getting dressed, hoping for some clue about who the message had come from. But there was nothing more—just silence. I shook my head, realizing how ridiculous I was being. It was just a message. Nothing more.
I slipped into my clothes, carefully choosing a simple yet stylish outfit. Becker had seen me at my most raw, my most unhinged, and yet, there was something strangely comforting about how easy it was to be with her. She didn't ask questions. She didn't dig too deep. I was allowed to just... exist around her. And for someone like me, that felt like a rare gift.
I met her at a small café downtown, one of those places that felt cozy, tucked away from the noise of the city. Becker was already sitting at a table by the window when I walked in, her smile lighting up her face as soon as she saw me. She looked effortlessly beautiful, her eyes bright and welcoming.
"Hey," she greeted, her voice warm, and I found myself genuinely smiling back.
"Hey," I replied, slipping into the chair across from her. The nerves I'd expected weren't there. There was no tension. No pressure. Just the quiet hum of the café and the soft clinking of mugs being set on tables.
We talked for hours, about nothing in particular but everything at once. She shared stories about her childhood, the places she wanted to visit, her goals and dreams. I listened, letting her words wash over me. It was a strange kind of relief, hearing someone talk about simple things—about what they wanted in life, what they were passionate about. It was a reminder of how much I had buried beneath my own carefully constructed facade.
There was something real about her. Something I hadn't let myself feel in a long time.
"So," she said with a teasing smile, stirring her coffee. "What about you? What's your idea of a perfect day?"
I thought for a moment, the question pulling me out of my usual routine. I wasn't used to answering questions like that. I wasn't used to talking about myself, at least not in this way.
"Guess I don't really know," I said slowly, my fingers tapping on the rim of my mug. "I'm still figuring that out, I guess."
She leaned forward; her expression sincere. "That's okay. You don't have to have everything figured out. Sometimes, the best things just... happen."
Her words caught me off guard, resonating deeper than I expected. She had no idea just how much truth there was in that simple statement. But it felt good to hear it. Maybe it was the calmness in her voice, or maybe it was the way she didn't press for more. Whatever it was, it worked.
As the evening wore on, I found myself relaxing. For once, I wasn't preoccupied with the usual noise in my head. I wasn't thinking about the next victim, the next masterpiece, or the message from earlier. I was just... here. With her. And that felt, for lack of a better word, normal.
We finished our drinks, and the conversation flowed easily, moving from lighthearted chatter to deeper, more personal topics. She was warm. Kind. The kind of person who made you feel like you mattered, even if you didn't deserve it. I found myself enjoying the attention she gave me, the way she laughed at my jokes, the way she actually seemed interested in what I had to say.
When we finally stood to leave, I was surprised by how much I didn't want the night to end. There was a sense of peace, of simplicity, that I hadn't felt in... well, ever. I hadn't realized how desperately I needed it until now.
"You know," she said as we stepped outside, "this was really nice. We should do it again sometime."
I nodded, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah, I'd like that."
As we said our goodbyes, I felt a strange pang in my chest. Something told me I was getting too close. Too comfortable. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to care. Not tonight. Tonight, I was just... me. And that felt like enough.
As I made my way home, the night's events played over and over in my head. Becker was a distraction. A fleeting spark of light in the darkness of my world. She didn't belong in the life I had built for myself, but in that moment, I didn't care.
When I reached my apartment, I couldn't help but check my phone one more time, as if the message from earlier would have disappeared overnight. But it hadn't. The words were still there, still chilling me to the core.
"I know what you're doing."
The message had been briefed, but it haunted me. I tossed my phone onto the couch, trying to ignore the unease crawling beneath my skin. For a moment, I thought about telling Becker—telling someone—about what I was doing, but the thought was laughable. Who could I trust? No one.
I leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes and trying to push the thoughts away. But deep down, I knew the message wasn't just a random coincidence. Someone was watching. Someone was waiting. And I was closer than I'd ever been to losing control.
The next day, everything felt… different.
I couldn't stop thinking about Becker. The way she had laughed, the way she'd looked at me like I was someone worth knowing. There was an unexpected weight to it, a sense of longing that I had no room for in my life. But it was there nonetheless, gnawing at me, making me restless.
I found myself staring at my phone, waiting for her message, wondering if she'd thought about me the way I had thought about her.
Around midday, my phone buzzed—Becker. Her name lit up the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.
"Hey, I was thinking about what you said last night... I had a great time. Can we do it again sometime soon?"
I grinned, unable to hide the warmth that spread through me. There was something about her that made everything feel... lighter. Easier.
I tapped out a reply. "I'd like that. When are you free?"
She responded quickly, suggesting a weekend afternoon. We planned to meet again, and this time, there was no hiding it. I wanted to get closer to her, to understand what it was about her that made me feel so human.
As the day wore on, I found myself eager for the next moment with her, even though I knew it was dangerous. I knew she was a distraction. I knew that in the long run, she was nothing but a fragile thread, ready to snap in the blink of an eye. But right now, I needed this. I needed something normal, something real.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My mind wandered to places I didn't want to go, but it always came back to one thing—Becker.
In the morning, as I prepared for our date, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking on a razor's edge. One misstep, one wrong move, and everything would come crashing down. But for now, I would keep playing the game. I would keep pretending that everything was fine.
And when I saw Becker again, I would make sure that for one more night, I could pretend to be someone I wasn't.
The date was a success, just as I had hoped. She was easy to be with, and for a few hours, I allowed myself to forget about the mess I had made of my life. She smiled at me with such genuine warmth, and I felt myself getting lost in the illusion of it all.
But deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before everything would unravel. And when it did, I had to make sure I was the one holding all the strings.
And so, as I walked her back to her car at the end of the night, I couldn't help but feel the tightening in my chest, the cold realization that I was teetering on the edge of something much darker than anything I had ever experienced before.