A week had passed since life had settled into something resembling normalcy for Ahce. Richard had returned to school, swallowed again by his relentless academic schedule, while she immersed herself in her own pile of coursework and deadlines.
One of her newest assignments was a research project, something she had initially welcomed as a distraction. Fortune, it seemed, had smiled on her when she was paired with Teacher Kenneth.
He possessed a quiet, approachable brilliance that made collaboration effortless. His patience had a way of steadying even the most restless student. Working beside him felt like standing near the calm eye of a storm.
For days, they discussed methodologies and concepts until late evenings, papers scattered across tables, ideas sparking easily between them. It felt, for once, like stability was returning to her routine.
That illusion was shattered the following morning.
When Ahce arrived on campus, the air carried an unnatural heaviness. The usual chatter of students was replaced by uneasy murmurs, clusters of people whispering as though afraid their words might summon something terrible. Each step forward deepened the weight pressing against her chest. Then the crowd came into view, an ocean of faces gathered around the open field.
The sight that met her eyes froze her in place.
Police officers and forensic staff moved methodically within a cordoned space. The flag of the university had been draped over a lifeless body lying on the grass. The fabric trembled lightly under the morning breeze. For a moment, the world dulled to a blur, until her gaze locked on the familiar shape beneath the flag.
Teacher Kenneth...
It can't be!
No way!
The realization hit like a violent drop in temperature. Her breath caught. Her heart refused to move forward. He looked unreal, as though he were only resting, yet something in the stillness of the scene told her the truth before anyone spoke it.
Dr. Bethany, the principal, stood nearby, arms wrapped tightly across her chest. When Ahce turned to her, searching for denial, the woman's pale face gave none.
"Kenneth was found dead," Dr. Bethany said quietly, each word breaking with sorrow. "He was discovered hanging from the flagpole. By the time the guard found him… his body was already frozen."
The words struck with surgical precision, cold, clinical, and final.
Impossible!
Ahce's knees threatened to give way. Just yesterday, he had messaged her about project revisions. He had sounded tired but ordinary, alive. How could someone be so full of purpose one day and gone the next?
A police officer approached, his notepad half-filled with hurried scrawl.
"Miss," he said evenly, "you were known to have worked closely with the deceased. We'll need a statement."
Her lips parted, but sound came slowly. "Yes… but not recently. Sir Kenneth told us to move our sessions online for the past three days. He said he was busy. I thought nothing of it. He sounded fine, just… tired."
The officer nodded, pen scratching again. "Did he ever mention anything strange? Unusual behavior? Messages, remarks, anything out of character?"
Ahce's head moved faintly in denial.
"No. None. He was always composed. Professional. I never imagined…" Her voice thinned into silence, lost under the low hum of grief around her.
All across the field, students and teachers stood in disbelief. The investigation spread outward, but the answers remained elusive. There had been no warnings, no signs. Only an absence now, sharp and unnatural.
Classes were suspended. Statements were taken. The once-bustling campus sank into uneasy quiet. Yet, as Ahce walked away, the ache in her chest did not fade. It deepened, like something unseen had just brushed against her world.
Kenneth's death didn't feel like an accident or despair. It felt constructed.
That night, when she reached her apartment building, the landlady stopped her in the hallway.
"Someone delivered a package for you," she said with a polite smile, pointing to a box on the counter.
A medium-sized parcel, neatly taped, no return address. The moment Ahce saw it, something in her instincts twisted tight. Her breath grew shallow.
Don't open it here.
The thought came unbidden, firm and cold.
She thanked the landlady, picked up the box, and left. Her steps led her to the nearby park, a small island of light and life amid the city's night hum. Children laughed near the fountain. Vendors called out their prices. Couples strolled beneath the streetlamps. The ordinariness of it all steadied her trembling hands.
Sitting on a bench beneath the dim glow of a lamp, she carefully lifted the lid.
Inside were photographs.
Teacher Kenneth's photographs.
Beneath them lay his favorite necktie, deep blue, perfectly folded, still smelling faintly of the cologne he used to wear. Her fingers went rigid. Then she noticed the card resting on top of the pile. Slowly, she flipped it open.
"Did you enjoy my gift?"
For a long time, Ahce did not move. Her pulse didn't race. Her breath didn't quicken. Her face remained blank, carved into stillness. It was as if every feeling had been stripped from her in a single breath, leaving only a hollow calm.
Around her, the park carried on, children squealed, a dog barked, and someone sold roasted chestnuts near the fountain. Yet all of it sounded distant, as though she were listening through water.
Quietly, she replaced the photographs and the tie, closed the lid, and walked toward the nearest trash bin. Without hesitation, she dropped the box inside.
She told no one.
Not the landlady.
Not the police.
Not even Richard.
The death had shaken the school, but this… this she would bury. Whoever sent the box had been watching, studying, waiting to see how she'd react.
But they would get nothing.
No fear.
No panic.
Not even curiosity.
I am uninvolved...
I am uninvolved...
I am uninvolved...
That was the mantra she repeated as she walked away, though the night air clung tighter with each step. The faint rustle of leaves sounded like whispers. She could feel eyes on her, silent, patient, following.
Her fingers trembled once as she pulled out her phone. She called Richard. The line rang endlessly before cutting to a dull, lifeless tone.
Busy.
She forced her breath steady. He was probably in class, perhaps still in City X. There was no reason to alarm him. Instead, she opened their message thread and typed slowly.
[Don't come to my apartment if you arrive in City C. Give me a heads-up.]
She stared at the words, thumb hovering. Then she sent it. Simple, but it carried every ounce of her unspoken dread. Whatever shadow had chosen her, she couldn't let it reach him.
She pressed the phone against her chest, inhaling deeply as though the motion could protect him from afar. For the first time in years, Ahce felt small, not powerless, but watched. And somewhere in the cold distance of the night, something watched back.
This wasn't a prank.
This was a warning.