Reminder:
In Chapter 13, Anaya received another unsettling email from Daniel K., the mysterious person who somehow knew about her meeting with her father. When she asked how he knew, he replied cryptically, saying he had been "following her story." The conversation grew more disturbing when he hinted that the "next chapter" would begin tomorrow — and that he was finally ready to introduce himself in person.
---
I didn't like the sound of that.
Not at all.
When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was check my phone. No new messages from Anaya. That should have been comforting.
But it wasn't.
Because silence sometimes means something is already happening.
I got ready faster than usual, my thoughts still stuck on the message from last night.
"He's finally ready to introduce himself in person."
The words repeated in my head like a warning.
Around noon, my phone finally buzzed.
Anaya.
"I don't think we should meet him."
I read the message twice before replying.
"Did he say where?"
Her response came quickly.
"No. He just said he'll find me."
That made my chest tighten.
"That's not normal," I typed.
"I know."
A few seconds passed.
Then another message.
"Can we meet at the bus stop?"
"Yes. I'll be there."
---
The sky was unusually grey when I reached the bus stop.
Clouds hung low, and the air felt heavier than usual. Even the road seemed quieter, like the city was holding its breath.
Anaya was already there.
She was standing instead of sitting, her arms folded tightly. The moment she saw me, she exhaled slightly — like she had been waiting for something solid.
"You came fast," she said.
"You sounded worried."
"I am."
We sat down on the cracked bench, but the comfort we usually found there was gone.
"This feels wrong," she said quietly.
"I agree."
She pulled out her phone and showed me the email again.
Same message.
Same calm tone.
Same unsettling certainty.
"He says he'll find me," she repeated.
"That means he knows where you usually go."
Her eyes moved slowly around the street.
"That's what scares me."
A bus passed without stopping. The wind picked up slightly, carrying dust along the pavement.
"What if he's just trying to sound mysterious?" I suggested.
"Or what if he isn't?"
That possibility hung between us.
---
For the next twenty minutes, we talked about everything and nothing at the same time.
Possible explanations.
Possible coincidences.
Possible overreactions.
But none of them felt convincing.
Then Anaya's phone buzzed again.
We both froze.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
Not an email.
A message.
Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it.
"What does it say?" I asked.
She swallowed.
"He says… 'You're at the bus stop again.'"
A cold feeling ran through me instantly.
We both looked around.
The street.
The tea seller.
Two people waiting near the corner.
A man reading a newspaper.
Nothing unusual.
And yet—
Someone knew exactly where we were.
"Reply," I said quietly.
Her fingers shook as she typed.
"Who are you?"
The response came almost immediately.
"Someone who prefers honesty."
That didn't help.
"Ask him where he is," I whispered.
She typed again.
"Where are you?"
This time, the reply took longer.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then the phone buzzed again.
"I'm closer than you think."
My heart started beating faster.
Anaya's breathing grew shallow.
"This isn't funny," she whispered.
"No, it's not."
---
I stood up instinctively, scanning the street more carefully.
Cars passed.
A woman crossed the road.
The tea seller poured another cup.
Nothing.
But then—
A voice spoke behind us.
"You don't need to look so nervous."
Both of us turned at the same time.
A man stood a few steps away.
Late twenties.
Simple grey shirt.
Calm expression.
He didn't look threatening.
But something about his presence felt deliberate.
"Anaya?" he asked.
Her eyes widened.
"Yes…"
He nodded slightly.
"I'm Daniel."
The name landed like a stone in still water.
This was him.
Not an email.
Not a message.
A real person.
Standing right in front of us.
---
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Daniel kept a respectful distance.
"I know this is sudden," he said calmly.
"That's an understatement," I replied.
He gave a small apologetic smile.
"I didn't want to scare you."
"You did," Anaya said quietly.
"I understand."
"Why didn't you just ask to meet normally?" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Because you wouldn't have agreed."
He wasn't wrong.
Still, that didn't make it acceptable.
"You've been watching her?" I said.
"Not watching. Observing."
"That's worse."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he said something unexpected.
"I only contacted you because of your writing."
Anaya frowned.
"My writing?"
"Yes."
"You mean the contest?"
He nodded.
"Your story wasn't just fiction."
The statement felt heavy.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Daniel glanced around the street before answering.
"It contained details that matched real events."
My stomach tightened.
"What events?"
He looked directly at her.
"Your father's disappearance."
The world seemed to pause.
Anaya's expression hardened.
"You don't know anything about that."
"I know more than you think."
"Then explain," she said sharply.
Daniel hesitated.
"Not here."
That immediately raised my guard.
"Why not?"
"Because some conversations shouldn't happen in public."
"That sounds suspicious," I said.
"It probably does."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small notebook.
"I've been researching something for a while," he said.
"And your story… connected to it."
Anaya crossed her arms.
"You're saying my life is part of your research?"
"I'm saying there are patterns."
"What patterns?"
He opened the notebook.
Inside were newspaper clippings.
Old ones.
Faded.
He turned it toward us.
"This is from twelve years ago," he said.
Anaya leaned closer.
Her face slowly lost color.
"That's… my father's company name."
"Yes."
"And this?" I asked.
"Another incident."
He flipped the page.
A headline.
Business partner missing.
Two weeks later.
Another headline.
Warehouse investigation.
The air felt heavier with each page.
"Why are you showing us this?" Anaya asked.
"Because your story described the same warehouse."
She froze.
"I never told anyone about that."
"You didn't have to."
The implication was clear.
Her story contained memories she didn't realize she had.
Daniel closed the notebook.
"I didn't contact you to scare you," he said.
"Then why?"
"Because someone else has started asking the same questions."
My chest tightened again.
"Who?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's not reassuring."
"I know."
Anaya looked at him carefully.
"And you think meeting us helps?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the answers aren't in the past anymore."
He paused.
"They're happening now."
A quiet wind moved through the street.
The bus stop — once the safest place in our story — suddenly felt like the beginning of something much bigger.
And far more dangerous.
---
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The mystery is no longer behind screens.
It has stepped into the real world.
To be continued…