Maybe he's using metaphor, so I didn't ask what does he mean by only three text. I swatted his chest with more frustration than force, the motion sharp but weak from everything I'd just cried out. He clutched his chest and pretended to fall back, groaning like he'd been fatally wounded. The dramatic flinch almost, almost made me smile.
But then the truth surged back up. "Where were you for six months?" I snapped, the question cracking through the air before I could tame the hurt behind it. "You didn't even reply to my last messages! Do you have any idea what I went through?"
His expression shifted, guilt darkening his features. "My phone got stolen," he said quietly, tone firm but remorseful. "And... I lied when I said I couldn't come for your birthday. I wanted to surprise you."
I stared at him, stunned into silence. "You lied... for six months?"
"Yes," he admitted, brushing loose strands of hair from my face with careful fingers. "I met Justin at the airport six months ago, we planned everything in secret. I stayed away because I didn't want to disturb you while you were busy with college. I wanted it perfect. I wanted it to be on your birthday."
My heart twisted sharply at his words, a painful knot of relief, shock, and leftover terror tightening beneath my ribs. For half a year, I had imagined him broken, missing, busy. I had pictured him cheating on me with someone better than me. I had convinced myself, night after night, that I might never hear his voice again. And all this time... he'd been hiding in plain intention.
"You could've told me," I whispered, breath unstable. "You didn't have to scare me to death."
His fingers threaded between mine, warm and sure and undeservedly gentle. "I know," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you something you'd never forget, something that only happens once in a lifetime."
Anger tried to stay alive in me, but exhaustion was swallowing it up. His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching, and something in me slowly let go. The panic began to subside, melting under the warmth in his eyes, the certainty in his touch, the reality of his breathing right in front of me.
"You're impossible," I muttered, the words cracking with the remnants of tears.
"And you love me for it," he whispered back, leaning forward until his forehead rested gently against mine.
I buried my face against Ryan's chest and stayed there, clinging to the sound of his heartbeat like it was the only real thing in the room. For months, that sound had lived only in memory and half, formed dreams. Now it was loud, steady, alive beneath my ear, and my shaking body finally began to unclench. My breathing evened into something almost normal, no longer ragged, no longer frantic, just... tired.
The knot of dread that had strangled me for so long loosened by inches, the sobs in my throat fading into small, uneven sniffles I didn't bother to hide. His warmth seeped through me slowly, melting the frost of terror that had been coiled around my spine since the moment he vanished.
We didn't speak for a long time. Silence pressed gently around us, but not the kind that leaves you alone with your thoughts, it was thick, grounding, the kind of quiet that wraps around two people like a blanket. Words felt too small, too blunt to hold everything bleeding through the moment, the fear, the relief, the anger that still simmered at the edges, the desperate gratitude that he was here and breathing.
So I let myself breathe against him, let myself exist in the safety I had been starved of for half a year, even as the shadows of the prank still crawled like spiders across the back of my mind.
After a while, minutes, hours, I couldn't tell, I managed a weak, disbelieving smile. "You really... did all this?" My voice cracked like glass, thin and quiet.
He laughed under his breath and smoothed a hand over my hair, his touch gentle in a way that made my chest ache. "Yes. All of it. And I would do it again if it meant seeing you smile like this."
A laugh slipped out of me, unsteady and soft. It felt foreign, rusty, like a sound I hadn't used in far too long. "You're ridiculous," I whispered, shaking my head.
"And you love me anyway," he said with quiet certainty, eyes creasing at the corners as his smile warmed.
For the first time in six unbearable months, I let myself believe it. I let myself believe that despite the nightmares, despite the silence, despite every awful thing my mind had convinced me of, there were still constants in this world, love, loyalty, and Ryan standing in front of me when I thought I'd never see him again.
The anger hadn't vanished, it lingered in my chest like leftover smoke from a fire, heavy and stinging. But the sincerity in his eyes, the softness in his voice, the familiarity of his presence cracked through it, dulling the sharp edges of resentment I wanted to cling to.
He lifted his hand, fingertips skimming lightly against my cheek. The instinct hit before I could think, I slapped his hand away, not hard, but sharp, a reflex born more from emotional whiplash than actual anger.
His voice dropped low, steadying with a careful tenderness. "I won't do it again. I promise. Just... please don't stay mad. Everyone's waiting. They worked so hard to make this special for you."
The frustration in me deflated on a sigh, leaving behind only the exhaustion that always follows fear. As much as I wanted to keep holding onto the fury as proof that what they did was wrong, I knew I could only burn for so long before it hollowed me out. They hadn't done it to hurt me. They hadn't known what these months had done to my mind. And Ryan, God, Ryan had done it for me, even if his execution had been twisted and cruel.
"Okay... let's go," I breathed, the words coming out softer than I intended, barely more than a whisper.
Our fingers intertwined naturally, without thought. His hand was warm around mine, calloused and familiar, and the simple contact sent faint, electric shivers up my arm. As we stepped back out into the bright air, sunlight poured over us, warm and blinding in its cheer. The breeze carried the smells of frosting and flowers and the faint echo of music, but before I could move another step, Ryan tugged me back into his arms.
He held me tightly this time, unashamed, his chest solid against mine. I felt the slow thud of his heart and the gentle drag of his breath as he spoke into my hair, tone half playful, half wounded. "We met after so long, and you didn't even hug me. You've changed, my love."
I smacked his shoulder lightly, pretending to be annoyed, but I slid my arms around him anyway. The hug that followed was different from the earlier one, less frantic, more anchored. His arms wrapped around me like he didn't trust the world to keep me if he let go, and the tension I didn't know I was still carrying melted beneath the steady warmth of his embrace.
"From now on," I muttered, my voice both stern and shaky, "think before doing stupid pranks. You made me run everywhere, cry unnecessarily, and almost stop eating!"
He chuckled raising his eyebrows in surprise and confusion, the sound low and warm, vibrating against my chest.
"Seriously?" I nodded with a puffed face.
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his breath brushing my skin as he whispered, "I missed you, love."
The words hit something tender inside me and before I could think, his lips were on mine. The kiss wasn't rushed or desperate, just soft, steady, full of all the things neither of us had said when we should have. Butterflies erupted violently in my stomach, clashing with the leftover panic and dissolving it piece by piece. My arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer as if I could disappear into him and take refuge there. For a fleeting moment, the months of silence, fear, and tears evaporated into nothing under the warmth of his mouth and the weight of his hands.
When we finally parted, our foreheads rested together, our breaths mixing in the narrow space between us. For a few precious heartbeats, time froze. Nothing existed but him, me, the pulse of his breath, and the illusion that the nightmare was buried and gone.
Outside, the celebration was alive again. Laughter rolled through the courtyard, bright and careless. Glasses clinked, friends chattered, and voices rose in excitement. Balloons bobbed gently in the breeze, streamers curled in the air like silk ribbons, and confetti shimmered like broken stars scattered beneath the sun.
For a fleeting, fragile moment, I felt something close to peace. Happiness. Safety. I let my guard lower, just a little, and breathed without bracing for the worst.
And then my phone vibrated.
The sound was small. Harmless. Innocent.
But the moment I felt the buzz against my pocket, something inside me went still.
Very still.
I froze, every muscle in my body locking up as a jolt of unease rippled through me. The number flashing across the screen was the same unknown one, the one that had messaged me first. For a moment, my fingers just hovered above the phone, trembling slightly, unsure if I even wanted to touch it.
The cheerful sounds of the celebration, the music, the laughter, the clinking glasses, suddenly felt far away and muted, as if someone had stuffed cotton in my ears. A sharp, slicing tension burrowed itself into my chest, stealing a breath before I could take it.
With a stiff inhale, I unlocked the phone and opened the message.
Message-
"Done celebrating your birthday with your boyfriend? Don't drink too much or I'll be mad."
The words burned into me. My blood turned to ice, a cold shiver crawling down my spine with deliberate slowness. It didn't feel like an ending, if anything, it felt like the beginning of something far worse. A threat disguised as curiosity. A presence disguised as a sentence.
I lifted my gaze and found Ryan across the room, laughing with friends, casually greeting people as if the world had never once tried to claw at our peace. His phone kept far away from anyone's reach. He looked so... normal.
So unaware of the darkness slithering back into the corners of my life. That easy, carefree smile of his made me want to believe everything was fine, but the dread in my gut twisted against that lie. A small, involuntary smirk tugged at my lips anyway. Trouble had a way of sniffing me out like a bloodhound. And clearly, it hadn't lost my scent.
The message didn't feel like a simple notification, it slithered into my phone like something alive. It was a whisper pressed to the back of my neck, cold and intimate, as if someone stood so close their breath could fog against my skin.
A presence I couldn't see, but could feel, watching, waiting, reaching. It reminded me that shadows don't vanish when the lights come on, they just hide behind the people you trust and the places you feel safe. My pulse spiked violently, each beat pounding like a fist against bone, curiosity and fear knotting together into something sharp, electric, and terrifyingly awake beneath my skin.
I forced my expression to soften, slipped my phone back into my bag, and pretended the unease hadn't lodged itself beneath my ribs. I told myself I'd enjoy the celebration, for now. But an instinctive part of me remained awake, alert, coiled tightly like it expected a hand on my shoulder at any moment.
The birthday festivities continued as if nothing had shifted, music, chatter, Suzanne squealing at something Justin said, lights glittering across the room but behind my smile, my thoughts twisted restlessly. Who was it? What did they want? Why now, when everything was supposed to be normal again?
One thing stood out with terrifying clarity, the world wasn't as calm as it pretended to be. Even in the middle of laughter and warmth, something unseen could reach in and grip you by the throat. My fingers tightened subtly around Ryan's hand, needing the grounding weight of him beside me, even as I braced myself for whatever was coming next.
"Ryan," I said quietly, my voice too steady for the panic rising beneath it, "did you message me with two different numbers when you were pretending to stalk me?"
He blinked, caught off guard, tilting his head as confusion softened his features. "No," he said slowly, "I only used one number. I've only got a single SIM card. I bought it yesterday. The moment it activated, I texted you about the scrambled eggs I left in the kitchen. That's it."
My stomach dropped, the floor beneath my feet seeming to tilt. The dread that had been scratching at the edges of my thoughts finally sank its claws in. So my gut hadn't been paranoid. It had been right. This wasn't over. It had never been over.
The first unknown number, the real one, was still out there.
Watching.
Waiting.
And this time, it wasn't a game. Its wasn't a prank. It was a real stalker.
To be continued.