At 11:47 p.m., Emma’s phone buzzed.
Daniel: Snap me when you’re home.
She smiled.
It was the kind of message Daniel sent almost every night. They had been friends since university, and although they lived on opposite sides of the city, he always waited until she reached her apartment before going to sleep.
Emma typed:
Emma: Five minutes away. I promise.
She slipped the phone into her coat pocket and continued walking.
The street was unusually quiet.
The rain had stopped, leaving the pavement shining beneath the yellow streetlights. Emma could hear the soft rhythm of her own footsteps.
Then her phone buzzed again.
She pulled it out.
There was a new message from Daniel.
Daniel: Don’t go home yet.
Emma stopped.
Her smile disappeared.
She called him immediately.
He answered after one ring.
“Emma, where are you?”
“Almost home. Why?”
Daniel was breathing heavily.
“Because I just got your message.”
“What message?”
“The one you sent me.”
Emma looked at her phone.
Her last message was still there.
Five minutes away. I promise.
“I sent that twenty minutes ago,” she said.
There was silence.
“No,” Daniel whispered. “You sent it two minutes ago.”
The Strange Message
Emma stared at the screen.
The timestamp beside her message said 11:45 p.m.
But she clearly remembered sending it at 11:27.
Her hands suddenly felt cold.
“Daniel, I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.”
A few seconds passed.
Then Daniel said, “Are you alone?”
Emma looked around.
The street was empty.
“I think so.”
“Don’t think. Look carefully.”
She turned slowly.
A bus stop stood behind her.
A closed bakery was on her left.
Across the street was an old apartment building with several dark windows.
Nothing moved.
“I don’t see anyone.”
“Good. Now listen to me.”
His voice became quieter.
“Don’t go to your building.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
“Get where?”
“Your street.”
Emma frowned.
“You’re coming here?”
“I’ve already been driving for ten minutes.”
Emma looked toward the end of the road.
Far away, headlights appeared.
For a moment, she felt relieved.
Then Daniel spoke again.
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
“My car isn’t there yet.”
She stopped breathing.
The headlights were getting closer.
The Car
Emma stepped backward.
The approaching car was dark.
Its headlights were too bright to see the driver.
She moved beneath the awning of the closed bakery and held her phone tightly.
“Daniel, there’s a car coming.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I’m watching it.”
Emma’s eyes widened.
“Where are you?”
“Across the street.”
She looked toward the old apartment building.
A figure stood near the entrance.
Daniel.
He lifted one hand.
Emma almost ran toward him.
Then he shouted.
“Stay there!”
The dark car passed between them.
For a few seconds, Emma couldn’t see Daniel.
When the car disappeared around the corner, she looked again.
Daniel was gone.
Her phone buzzed.
A new message appeared.
Daniel: Why did you move?
Emma stared at it.
She hadn’t moved.
She slowly typed:
Emma: Where are you?
The reply came instantly.
Daniel: At home.
Emma’s blood ran cold.
Someone Was Using His Phone
She called him.
He answered immediately.
“Emma?”
“Daniel, where are you really?”
“At home.”
“You said you were coming here.”
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did!”
“No, Emma.”
His voice was shaking now.
“Someone has been sending messages from my phone.”
Emma looked at the message thread.
There were dozens of messages.
Some were from Daniel.
Some were from her.
But she couldn’t remember sending several of them.
Don’t turn around.
I’m watching you.
Keep walking.
Snap me when you’re home.
Emma swallowed.
“Daniel…”
“What?”
“Someone knows about our messages.”
Silence.
Then Daniel said something that made her heart pound.
“Emma, remember what you told me last week?”
“What?”
“You said your phone had been acting strange.”
She remembered.
Her battery had been draining unusually fast.
Her camera had opened by itself twice.
She had assumed it was a software problem.
Daniel continued.
“I think someone has been watching your phone.”
Emma looked at the dark windows of the apartment building.
One window suddenly lit up.
Then another.
Then another.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You’re almost home.
Emma didn’t move.
Another message arrived.
Unknown Number: That’s when the interesting part begins.
The Apartment Door
Daniel stayed on the phone while Emma walked toward a crowded twenty-four-hour café at the end of the street.
She didn’t care about getting home anymore.
She just wanted people around her.
“Keep talking to me,” she whispered.
“I am.”
The café lights appeared ahead.
Emma quickened her pace.
Then her phone buzzed again.
This time, there was a photograph.
Emma opened it.
It showed her walking beneath the bakery awning.
The picture had been taken from behind.
She stopped.
The photo had been taken only seconds earlier.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
“I saw it.”
“Someone is following me.”
“Don’t look back.”
Emma almost laughed.
“That’s exactly what people say in horror movies.”
“I know.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
Daniel paused.
“Because I’m coming to the café.”
Emma looked ahead.
The café was only a few meters away.
She pushed open the door.
Warm light surrounded her.
Several people were sitting at tables.
For the first time that night, Emma felt safe.
She turned toward the window.
Across the street, a person stood beneath a streetlight.
Watching.
The Truth
Police arrived twenty minutes later.
They searched the street, the nearby buildings, and Emma’s apartment.
Nobody was there.
But they found something unusual.
A tiny device had been attached beneath the rear bumper of Emma’s car.
It had been there for weeks.
The messages were traced to a stolen phone.
But the person who had used it was never found.
For several days, Emma stayed with her sister.
Daniel checked on her constantly.
Eventually, life began to feel normal again.
One Friday night, Emma finally returned to her apartment.
She changed the locks.
Installed new cameras.
And replaced her phone.
At 10:58 p.m., Daniel sent her a message.
Daniel: Home?
Emma smiled.
Emma: Almost.
She reached her front door.
She unlocked it.
Inside, everything looked exactly as she had left it.
She walked to the kitchen.
Then she noticed something on the counter.
A small white envelope.
Her name was written across the front.
Emma froze.
She opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed her standing in the café that night.
On the back, someone had written:
You forgot to snap me when you got home.
Emma’s phone slipped from her hand.
The screen lit up.
A message appeared from Daniel.
Daniel: Emma, don’t panic.
She stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
Daniel: I’m at your door.
Emma slowly looked toward the hallway.
There was a shadow beneath the apartment door.
And then came three soft knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Emma didn’t move.
Her phone buzzed one final time.
This message wasn’t from Daniel.
It was from the unknown number.
Unknown Number: Now snap me when you’re home.
Emma looked at the door.
And finally understood.
The person who had been watching her had never needed to follow her.
They had already been inside.
