CHAPTER 32 — THE BREATH IN THE DARK
Lena didn't remember falling asleep.
One moment she was lying on Elias's couch, wrapped in his soft gray blanket, the rain whispering against the windows. The next, she jolted awake with her heart pounding, disoriented by the dark. The room was quiet — too quiet. The kind of silence that felt *aware* of itself.
The storm had stopped.
The darkness felt heavier because of it.
For a few seconds, she couldn't tell what had woken her. Then she did.
Breathing.
Not hers.
Slow. Steady. Almost measured.
Not close — but *there*. Somewhere in the apartment.
Her body tensed so sharply she felt her bones ache. She pushed herself up on the couch, scanning the dim room. The shadows seemed thicker than they should be. Elias wasn't here — he had stepped out an hour ago to check in with campus security again, promising he'd be back soon.
She wasn't supposed to be alone.
Lena swallowed the rising panic and forced herself to stand, every movement slow, deliberate. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the coffee table. She reached for the lamp.
And froze.
The breathing stopped.
A cold wave washed over her.
The air felt dense, like someone was holding still, waiting.
She whispered, barely audible, "Is… someone here?"
Silence.
Then — a soft click.
Somewhere deeper in the apartment.
A door closing.
Lena felt her entire body lock. That sound wasn't the settling of furniture. It wasn't the pipes or the wind.
Someone had been inside Elias's home.
Someone was **leaving** it.
Her hands shook violently now. She backed toward the hallway, one unsteady step at a time. She reached the bathroom light switch and flicked it on. The sudden brightness stung her eyes, but she felt a flicker of safety with it.
Her phone was on the couch. Too far.
Elias was still gone.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs.
Then she noticed something that made her blood run cold.
The window by the dining table — the one Elias always kept latched — was open three inches.
Just enough for someone to slip something through.
Just enough for someone to watch.
Lena felt her knees weaken.
She approached slowly, dread twisting her stomach. The window frame was scratched, as if pried open with something metal. A thin piece of paper was wedged under the inner latch.
Her breath hitched.
She pulled it out with trembling fingers.
There was no handwriting this time.
Just a single drawing.
A small, simple outline of a person sleeping on a couch… and a second figure standing in the doorway watching them.
Lena nearly dropped the paper.
Her vision blurred. Her fingers felt numb.
The message was not written, but it was clear:
**I was here.
Even when you didn't know.**
Her mouth opened, but no sound escaped.
Then she heard footsteps in the hallway.
Fast. Approaching. Familiar.
"Lena?" Elias's voice. "Lena, what's wrong? Why is the light—"
He stepped into the room, saw the open window, saw the look on her face, and stopped cold.
Slowly, she held out the drawing.
For a moment Elias didn't move. Then he took it, jaw tightening as he examined the crude sketch. His eyes darkened with anger — not explosive, but contained, controlled, dangerous in its quietness.
"She was here." Lena's voice cracked. "In your home."
Elias reached out without thinking, hands steady as he gripped her arms. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head.
"Did you see her?" His voice was low but urgent.
"No. I… I woke up and someone was breathing. I thought— I thought I imagined it, but then…" She gestured to the window.
Elias inhaled slowly, like he was holding himself together by force.
He stepped closer, lowering his forehead briefly against hers in a gesture that felt more protective than romantic, more grounding than anything else.
"You're safe now," he whispered. "I'm here."
But Lena wasn't sure she believed that anymore.
Because the drawing wasn't just meant to scare her.
It was meant to **prove something**.
Maya was somewhere near them.
She knew their routines.
She knew where Lena slept.
And she wanted them both to know:
She could get closer anytime she wanted.
Elias gently pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he could shield her from the entire world. Lena buried her face in his shoulder, trying to breathe past the terror clawing at her throat.
She wasn't fragile.
She wasn't helpless.
But for the first time since this began, she felt something worse than fear.
She felt hunted.
And she wasn't sure how much longer she could pretend she wasn't breaking.