WHISPER

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
**"It's the connection we can't explain"**

I froze. It was him—the guy from the beach. The one who had grabbed my hand and called me "angel." He stood there, leaning casually against a pillar, a smug smile playing on his lips. My heart skipped a beat, not out of fear—but out of pure irritation.

I clenched my fists and forced myself to keep walking, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. His friends, the ones I had seen before, lingered nearby, watching with amused expressions, but that one guy looked calm and annoyed at the same time. I wasn't in the mood for this.

"Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" I hissed, trying to sidestep him, but he matched my movements, his smile never wavering.

"Why so cold, angel? I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you're doing alright."

"I'm alright, so leave now, please. I just want peace. Don't come here again—never again."

I walked away angrily. I was really upset—peace was all I wanted. But for a moment, I glanced back at that mysterious guy. He was still looking at me. Actually, they were all looking at me. I just didn't want to see them again.

As I hurried down the street, the weight of their gazes burned into my back. No matter how fast I walked, it felt like an invisible thread was still pulling me toward them—especially him, the one who hadn't spoken a word. His calm, annoyed expression lingered in my mind longer than I wanted.

I reached my apartment, slamming the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to catch my breath. My hands shook with frustration, my thoughts racing in circles. Why did these guys have to keep showing up? Why couldn't they leave me alone?

The apartment was quiet, too quiet. My roommate was still out with her boyfriend, probably laughing and enjoying life, completely oblivious to the mess mine had become. I threw my bag on the couch and sank into the cushions, trying to push the memory of that encounter from my mind. But his face—his silent, observing stare—kept creeping back in.

Why did he keep looking at me? What did he want?

Shaking my head, I decided to make tea, hoping the warmth would calm my nerves. But as I stood by the stove, waiting for the water to boil, I found myself glancing at the window. Part of me expected to see them standing outside, watching. I knew it was irrational, but I couldn't help it.

It was the connection I couldn't explain. Something about that guy—the mysterious one who didn't speak—felt off. There was a tension between us that I couldn't understand, and I wasn't sure if it was something to fear or something to confront.

I took my tea and sat back on the couch, trying to make sense of everything. Why was this happening? Why now? And why did I keep thinking about someone I barely knew?

The night dragged on, and the quiet apartment grew colder. I curled up under a blanket, but even that couldn't shake the unease that had settled deep inside me. Maybe it was time to tell someone about this. Maybe my roommate, as clueless as she was, could offer some advice. But the thought of explaining everything—about my encounter with the guys and the strange pull I felt toward the one who didn't speak—felt too complicated, too strange.

I stared at the clock. It was late, but sleep felt far away. My phone buzzed on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I reached for it, half-expecting it to be my roommate, but the number was unfamiliar.

Hesitating, I unlocked my phone and read the message:

"I'll find you again, angel. Don't think you can run from me."

A cold shiver ran down my spine as I stared at the words on the screen. It was him. The guy from the beach. How had he gotten my number?

I deleted the message immediately, my heart racing in my chest. What was I supposed to do now? Should I block the number? Call the police? But would they even take me seriously?

I stood up, pacing the room, my mind spinning. This was too much. Too strange. And that silent guy—why hadn't he stopped his friend from bothering me? Why had he just watched?

There was something about him. Something I couldn't shake. The way he looked at me—it wasn't like the others. He wasn't amused, he wasn't mocking. He was watching. Almost like he was studying me.

And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.

I threw my phone down, frustrated, feeling trapped by my own thoughts. I needed air. I grabbed my jacket and slipped out of the apartment, walking quickly toward the beach. Maybe the sound of the waves would drown out the noise in my head.

The streets were quiet, the moon casting long shadows across the pavement as I made my way down to the shore. The cold wind bit at my skin, but I didn't care. I just needed to breathe.

When I reached the beach, I stood at the edge of the water, staring out at the dark horizon. The waves crashed against the sand, their steady rhythm almost calming. Almost.

But then, I saw him.

The mysterious guy, standing not far from where I was. His figure was still, hands in his pockets, his dark hair blowing in the wind. He hadn't seen me yet, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

I should leave. I should turn around and go home before he noticed me. But my feet wouldn't move.

And then, as if sensing my presence, he turned.

Our eyes locked across the distance, and for a moment, everything else faded away. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but I didn't know if it was from fear or something else entirely.

He didn't move. Neither did I.

We just stood there, staring at each other, as the ocean roared between us.

What was this connection? Why did I feel like I knew him, even though we had never spoken?
Is he...!!!?

(❤️❤️)