CHAPTER 34 — THE UNFINISHED DOOR
The lock clicked softer than it should have when Lena turned her key.
That alone sent a tremor down her spine.
Her apartment was dark, still, quiet — but not in the way that felt empty.
It felt paused.
As if the air was waiting for her.
Elias stood just behind her in the hallway, close enough that she could sense his presence but far enough not to overwhelm her. He'd insisted on coming after the last message appeared. She hadn't argued this time.
"Stay here," he whispered, gently touching her elbow before stepping inside first.
He moved through the entryway with cautious, practiced steps. He wasn't a fighter, but he was someone who cared — and sometimes that made a person braver than experience ever could.
Lena remained in the doorway, her breath shallow as her eyes scanned the shadows.
Nothing looked disturbed. No drawers open. No overturned furniture.
Everything was perfectly intact.
And that was the problem.
The last message had been too deliberate to ignore:
**You weren't supposed to leave last night. I had everything ready.**
Lena's stomach twisted.
Elias flicked on the lights. "Looks clear," he said, though his voice carried tension he tried to hide.
She stepped inside slowly, her senses sharpened by fear. She touched a hand to the back of a chair — warm.
Recently moved.
Lena's pulse quickened. "Something's… off."
Elias followed her gaze. "Tell me what's different."
She swallowed. "This chair faces the window. I never leave it turned inward."
Elias didn't question it. He believed her immediately — and that trust made her chest tighten in a way she didn't have time to process.
He crouched, checking the floor. "No forced entry."
"She didn't need to break in," Lena whispered. "She's been inside before."
The room felt too small. Too silent.
Elias stood and moved closer. "Let's check the rest. Slowly."
They walked deeper into the apartment together — kitchen, bathroom, bedroom — everything appeared untouched. But Lena felt it. A wrongness humming beneath the quiet.
When they reached her bedroom door, she froze.
The door was cracked open.
Just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
Except Lena never, ever left it that way.
Her breath hitched, and Elias noticed instantly.
"What is it?"
"…I shut this before we left."
Elias exhaled slowly, shoulders tightening. "Stay behind me."
He pushed the door open.
The room was empty.
But on the edge of the neatly made bed sat something that hadn't been there that morning.
A small notebook.
Dark blue.
Familiar.
Lena's knees weakened.
"That's mine," she whispered. "I lost it two years ago."
Elias picked it up carefully. "Your handwriting is inside?"
She nodded, trembling. "It was my journaling notebook. I used to write… everything."
Elias looked at her with quiet dread. "Then she's had it for years."
Lena took the notebook with shaking hands and opened it.
Pages of her handwriting stared back — old thoughts, fears, secrets.
But halfway through, her breath stopped.
New ink.
Different handwriting.
Slanted.
Frantic.
A message sprawled across the page:
**I kept the parts of you you didn't want anyone to see.
I kept them safe for you.
You shouldn't have left me alone with them.**
Lena's hands trembled violently.
"Elias…" Her voice cracked. "She's not just watching me. She's been inside my head for years."
He stepped close, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "We're not dealing with her alone anymore. We're reporting this. Now."
Lena shook her head, eyes filling. "Do you really think that's enough? She knew this place. She knew me. She knew what would scare me the most."
Elias spoke firmly, grounding her. "Then we make it harder for her. We take control. We don't let her write the next page."
Lena closed the notebook with trembling fingers.
For the first time, the apartment didn't feel like home.
It felt like a story Maya had broken into — stealing lines, rewriting chapters, leaving new ones behind for Lena to find.
Lena drew in a shaky breath. "She's not finished."
Elias nodded. "Then neither are we."