Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Amelia love sitting at the window of her favorite café, hovering her stirring hand over her cup of coffee with silent intent, and watching steam swirling on the back of her.

Waves of thoughts flashed through her mind and she couldn't help but sign in frustration.

The smell of freshly ground beans and coffee stuck to the area, underpinned by the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional low hum of silverware against porcelain. Outside was all that mattered; people, fluttering past in their own way, but inside was a storm, silent, relentless.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't notice the tray of food placed before her. A plate of food. A fresh cup of coffee. And something else that she didn't order. They don't sell such in this cafe.

A folded, unmarked piece of paper.

Her stomach bowed. The edges of the table shoved into her fingers as she pressed herself up against the table. “What is this? ”

She hesitated, shrugged and gave an apology. “I'm sorry to startle you, somebody asked me to give it to you, ” she said.

“Who? ” It sounded too harsh and forced, her heart beating swiftly already. You can't blame her, she has had a lot on her plate, from threatening letters etc.

The waitress grinned pointing at the far side of the corner, but there was no one there. “Some guy at the counter. I didn’t really see him. He just handed me the letter and told me to deliver it to you."

Amelia swallowed against the dryness in her throat and forced a smile. “Thanks.”

As the waitress disappeared into the crowd and Amelia remained frozen and staring into the letter as if it were trying to grab her. She didn’t have to open it. She already knew.

Him.

Ass.

Her stalker, the same one who had been sending threatening messages, unwelcome presents, to keep that all-time feeling of being watched on.

A cold chill ran up her spine. And every instinct that had come over her screaming at her to tear the letter open and face whatever sick words he had written this time, but what would it change? She already knew what it would say. She already knew what it meant.

Frightened fingers gripped the letter and dumped it into the trash.

It mattered not, because the fear continued to taunt her ribs like a fist.

Suddenly her appetite was gone, the sandwich she had on her plate seemed to be stuck to cardboard.

She prodded it with a fork and then in panic her mind went crazy, how? How had he found her again? She had been very careful. Never went to the same places over and over again. Never made the same way home. Yet here she was.

It seemed as if he had a chip in her mind, knowing where she was and when she changed her line.

Her breath shortened. She needed to leave.

As she zipped her bag up its spine a sharp pinch inched up through her skin — that feel of you being watched over by someone in particular.

Slowly, she flicked to look at the café. People swept off in their own world, talking on their phones, drinking their tea. But by the entrance, half-hidden behind a pillar, stood a figure.

A man in a black hoodie.

His face was obscured, his posture relaxed. Too relaxed.

Her heart lurched.

It’s him.

She forced herself to look away, gripping the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles ached.

Stay calm. Don’t panic. Panic will not Save you at this moment.

With shaking hands, she dug into her purse for cash. No time to wait for the check. She needed to move.

She stood abruptly, dropped a handful of bills onto the table, and grabbed her things.

Don’t run. Don’t make a scene. Act like you haven't seen him.

The cool evening air hit her like a slap, but it did nothing to calm the firestorm inside her chest. She resisted the overwhelming urge to look back. If he was following, she wasn’t sure she could keep walking.

She forced herself forward, slipping into the flow of foot traffic, hoping—praying—that she was imagining things.

But when she risked a glance over her shoulder, her stomach plummeted.

He was there.

Not right behind her, but close.

Her pulse roared in her ears. She veered sharply into an alley, a narrow cut-through that led to a busier street. It was dark, tight, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get away.

Halfway through, she glanced back.

Nothing.

Has she lost him?

She slowed, inhaling a shaky breath. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe he was just some random guy. Maybe—

A shadow shifted.

Before she could react, a hand clamped around her wrist.

Amelia’s breath locked in her throat as she twisted, clawing at fabric. The rough scrape of brick bit into her back as she collided with the wall. And then—

A voice.

Low. Measured. Familiar.

“Amelia.”

Soft. Almost gentle. But she knew better.

Her vision blurred with panic as she struggled, kicking out. He barely moved.

“Shh,” he murmured. “Don’t be scared.”

Terror shot through her veins. “Let me go.”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was studying her. “I just wanted to know if you got my letter.” His fingers tightened, just for a second. “Why’d you throw it away?”

Her skin crawled. “Leave me alone.”

A beat of silence. Then, just as suddenly, he let go, stepping back. The hood still hid most of his face, but she saw it—the slow, creeping smile.

“I’ll see you soon, Amelia.”

And then he was gone. Swallowed by the night like a ghost.

Amelia sagged against the wall, trembling violently. She pressed a hand to her chest, struggling to control the ragged gasps clawing their way out.

No more.

She couldn’t live like this.