(1698 words)

Monday, April 28, 2025

Three days after the messages at the café, Alicia still hadn’t told anyone.

Not her husband.

Not her children.

Not even herself, if she was being honest.

She had deleted the messages that same night while standing in the bathroom with the door locked. Her hand had been shaking so badly that she had almost dropped her phone into the sink. Afterward, she had stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time.

You’re being ridiculous, she had told herself.

It was probably a joke.

A wrong number.

Some bored man sitting in a car with nothing better to do.

But she didn’t truly believe any of those explanations.

Because the message had said:

"You look beautiful when you sit by the window."

Whoever had sent it had been watching her.

And now every time her phone stayed silent, she felt afraid.

Every time it vibrated, she felt even worse.

That Monday morning, Alicia woke up before six o’clock. The apartment was dark and quiet. But it wasn’t a peaceful silence. It was a heavy silence. The kind that made her feel watched, even when she was alone.

She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

Mark was asleep beside her, snoring softly with one arm stretched across the bed as though he belonged there more than she did.

Carefully, Alicia pulled back the blanket and got up.

In the kitchen, she made herself a coffee without turning on the main light. Only the small lamp above the sink illuminated the room.

The old coffee maker hissed and rattled.

She stood by the window and looked outside.

Grey apartment blocks.

A wet street.

A woman walking a small dog.

A bus waiting at the corner.

Normal things.

Safe things.

Her phone rested on the counter beside her coffee cup.

She had turned off notifications two days earlier.

Still, she couldn’t stop looking at it.

No new messages.

That should have made her feel better.

It didn’t.

She opened the refrigerator and stared inside.

Half a carton of milk.

Three eggs.

A soft tomato.

Old cheese.

No bread.

Alicia closed her eyes for a second and began calculating money in her head.

Rent.

Electricity.

Food.

Leo’s school supplies.

Gas for the car.

The money Michael had “borrowed” and would never return.

It was never enough.

No matter how carefully she planned, it was never enough.

Mark’s disability payment had arrived two days earlier, but most of it was already gone.

Cigarettes.

Beer.

Sports betting on his phone.

He always called it “a little treat.”

Alicia called it something else.

A problem.

Ten years earlier, Mark had broken his leg at work.

At first, everyone had felt sorry for him. Especially Alicia.

She drove him to doctor appointments.

She helped him shower.

She carried meals to his bed.

She supported him through the long and difficult months when he could barely walk.

But after the surgeries and the therapy, he improved.

Not completely.

But enough.

Enough to return to work.

Yet he never did.

First, he said the pain was too strong.

Then it was his knee.

Then his back.

Then his nerves.

Then his sleeping problems.

Now he spent most of his days on the sofa, on the balcony, or sitting in front of the television while asking Alicia where she had been.

The bedroom door opened.

Mark walked into the kitchen wearing an old pair of sweatpants and scratching his stomach.

His hair was sticking out on one side.

He looked at the coffee maker and then at Alicia.

"You didn’t make one for me?"

Alicia heard the question clearly.

"Good morning," she said.

But Mark only stared at her.

"So now you answer me like that first thing in the morning?"

Without replying, Alicia turned around and grabbed another cup.

"I’m making it now."

Mark sat down at the table with a grunt and picked up his phone.

Alicia poured the coffee and placed the cup in front of him.

He took a sip.

"Too much milk."

"You always drink it with milk."

"Not that much."

Alicia stayed silent.

There was no point arguing.

A few minutes later, Michael entered the kitchen.

At eighteen years old, he was tall and strong, with short dark hair. His eyes looked intense and tired at the same time. He had a serious expression that often made people uncomfortable.

His movements were quick and confident, as if he always knew exactly what to do.

"Morning," he muttered.

He opened the cupboard, grabbed the last box of cereal, and poured almost all of the remaining milk into his bowl.

Alicia stared at the empty carton.

"I needed that for Leo."

Michael sat across from Mark and shrugged.

"Buy more."

"I just said we need to buy more food," Alicia replied.

Michael looked at his phone and started eating.

Mark smirked while drinking his coffee.

"Maybe if you spent less time at Maple and Bean Café after work, we'd have more money."

Alicia froze.

The spoon slipped from her fingers and hit the counter with a loud metallic sound.

"What?"

Mark didn’t answer immediately.

He took another slow sip first, as though he enjoyed the silence.

"I said that if you came home when you’re supposed to, maybe we wouldn’t waste money."

"It was only one coffee," Alicia said.

"At Maple and Bean Café," Mark replied.

Alicia stared at him.

Her throat suddenly felt dry.

"How do you know the name of the café?"

Mark looked up.

His eyes were calm.

Too calm.

"You told me you were in a café," he said. "I guessed."

"You guessed?"

He shrugged lightly.

"That’s the one you always go to, isn’t it?"

Alicia said nothing.

Because yes, it was.

But she had never told him its name.

Michael laughed quietly.

"Maybe Dad should become a detective."

Alicia turned toward him.

"What do you mean by that?"

Michael shrugged again.

"It means you're acting strange."

At that moment, Leo’s bedroom door opened.

Leo stepped into the hallway, half dressed, wearing one sock while his school shirt still hung open.

He looked first at his mother, then at his father, and finally at Michael.

He always seemed to sense the mood in a room.

"Do we have any toast?" he asked softly.

"There’s no bread," Alicia replied.

Mark leaned back in his chair.

"I told your mother to buy bread yesterday."

Alicia turned sharply toward him.

"I worked until seven."

"So?"

"Then I came home, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, checked Leo’s homework, and answered emails from school."

"So?"

"You were home all day!"

"You always have an excuse."

And just like that, Mark ended the conversation.

Leo lowered his eyes.

Michael continued eating.

Nobody spoke.

Suddenly, the kitchen felt smaller.

The walls seemed to move closer.

Alicia picked up her handbag from the chair.

"I have to go."

Mark glanced at the wall clock.

"You’re leaving early."

"I need to print some papers before class."

"Or maybe you have another coffee date?"

Michael laughed again.

This time louder.

Heat rose into Alicia’s face.

Leo hesitated in the hallway.

"Dad..."

But he stopped.

He never finished those sentences.

"By the way," Mark said casually, "your phone kept vibrating last night."

Alicia slowly turned around.

"What?"

Mark looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

"You were in the shower. It wouldn’t stop vibrating on the bedside table."

The color drained from Alicia’s face.

"Did you touch my phone?"

"I looked at the screen."

"What did it say?"

Mark smiled.

That small, slow smile she hated.

"I didn’t open it."

Alicia stared at him, trying to read his expression.

Trying to decide whether he was lying.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"No name," Mark replied. "Just a number."

Michael finally looked up from his cereal.

"Maybe it was your secret admirer."

"Stop it," Alicia snapped.

"I’m joking," Michael said.

But he was watching her too closely.

Paying far too much attention.

Leo adjusted his backpack on his shoulder.

"Mom, we're going to be late."

Alicia nodded quickly.

"Yes. Right."

She opened the apartment door and stepped into the hallway.

Leo followed her.

Behind them, Mark called out in a cheerful voice that sounded almost normal.

"Don’t forget your phone, Alicia."

She stopped.

She had left it on the kitchen counter.

For one terrible second, she considered leaving it there.

Then she turned around.

Mark held it out to her.

The screen faced downward.

He gripped it tightly between his fingers.

Alicia reached for the phone.

But Mark didn’t let go immediately.

He leaned slightly closer.

"So... if there’s something you want to tell me..."

Alicia pulled the phone from his hand.

"No."

Mark’s smile never changed.

"Good."

She left before he could say anything else.

On the stairs, Leo walked beside her in silence for an entire floor.

Then, very quietly, he spoke.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated.

"Last night... I saw someone outside."

Alicia slowed down.

"Outside? Where?"

Leo tightened his grip on his backpack.

"Across the street from our building."

Alicia stopped on the stairs and turned toward him.

"What do you mean?"

Leo looked nervous, as though he wished he hadn’t said anything.

"I woke up around two o’clock. I went to the kitchen for some water. I looked out the window and saw someone standing near the streetlight."

A chill ran through Alicia’s body.

"A man?"

Leo nodded.

"He was just standing there. Looking up."

"Looking at what?"

Leo swallowed.

"Our windows. I think he was looking at your bedroom window."

Alicia tightened her grip on the phone.

"Did you see his face?"

"No. It was too dark. But..."

Leo looked down.

"He was holding a phone. I think he had it raised up like he was recording something. Or taking a picture."

For a moment, Alicia forgot how to breathe.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

Leo shifted uncomfortably.

"I thought maybe I imagined it. Or maybe it wasn’t important."

But Alicia knew something was wrong.

At that exact moment, her phone vibrated in her hand.

An unknown number.

Alicia stared at the screen.

Then a new message appeared.

I saw your son looking at me too.