The Man of My Dreams

Chapter Fourteen: The Night of Shadows

The air was still, thick with an unsettling quiet as Mia lay in her bed, tangled in her sheets. Her heart pounded in her chest as she drifted between sleep and wakefulness, the boundary between dream and reality growing ever thinner.

It had been two long months since the nightmares began. At first, the dreams were sporadic—haunting, yes, but manageable. But as time wore on, they became more frequent, more disturbing, and with each passing week, the eerie encounters with Ethan left her on edge. He had become a constant presence in her waking life, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should, as if he were searching for something hidden beneath her skin. His eyes seemed to study her, almost coldly, like a predator assessing its prey. In their increasingly uncomfortable meetings, Mia would catch him glancing at the bruises she carefully concealed under her sweater sleeves, as if he already knew they were there.

The nightmares and her strange encounters with Ethan had taken their toll on her. She had lost weight, her appetite shrinking with each passing day, the stress gnawing away at her insides. Her reflection had become a stranger—dark circles hung heavy under her eyes, her skin had paled, and her once-vibrant energy had dimmed to a hollow echo of what it used to be. Even her laughter felt forced, an imitation of joy that no longer came naturally. Her friends had started to notice the change, but Mia brushed off their concerns, unwilling to confront the full reality of what was happening.

Tonight, though, something felt different. The weight of Ethan's presence lingered like an invisible force, as if the space around her was not hers alone. She shivered, drawing the blanket tighter around her, trying to ward off the suffocating sense of dread that clung to her like a shadow. She told herself to relax, to sleep—just sleep—but deep down, she knew it wouldn't be that easy.

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The air in Mia's apartment felt heavy that night, thick with an energy she couldn't quite place. 

Ever since the nightmares had begun, her once-cozy space had taken on a strange, almost suffocating quality. She had grown used to waking up in a cold sweat, the bruises on her wrists a cruel reminder that something was terribly wrong. Every morning, she would find the window cracked open, the curtains swaying in a breeze she never remembered inviting. Her bedroom door—always carefully shut before sleep—would be ajar, just wide enough to let a sliver of darkness creep in.

She had told herself it was stress, that her mind was playing tricks on her, twisting her nightmares into something more tangible. But deep down, she knew the truth was much darker. The feeling of being watched, the strange occurrences—it all pointed to something far more sinister.

That night, Mia lay in bed, her eyes heavy but her mind wide awake. She had started sleeping with a light on, the faint glow offering little comfort but enough to keep the shadows at bay. Her thoughts wandered to Ethan, the man who had so effortlessly woven himself into her life. She had been drawn to him at first—his art, his presence, the way he seemed to understand her in ways no one else could. But now, there was something unnerving about him. He lingered in her thoughts even when she didn't want him to, his presence in her dreams too vivid, too real.

It was as though he had followed her into the waking world.

The thought made her skin prickle with unease. She pulled the blankets tighter around herself, trying to shake the feeling.

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Outside, Ethan stood at the foot of her building, staring up at her window. He knew this was dangerous—pushing beyond the boundaries of their dream world and into her reality—but he couldn't stop himself. The distance between them, the subtle changes in her demeanor, had driven him to this moment. He needed to see her, needed to remind her of the connection they shared, even if it meant stepping out of the shadows.