Page 44 of Hidden

The audio crackles softly. I hear her exhale, the faint scratch of her pen when she pauses to jot something on paper beside the laptop. She mutters under her breath, “This better be right this time.”

I smile in the dark of my room. She’s perfect, so focused, and so unaware of how completely I see her.

I type into the hidden chat window I’ve embedded in her system, the one that will appear directly on her screen. My fingers move with care.

You’re doing beautifully tonight, Sadie. The way your mind works when no one’s watching… It's breathtaking.

On my feed I see her freeze. Her head snaps up. She stares at the screen, her eyes widening. The pen slips from her fingers and rolls across the desk. “What the hell?” she whispers, her voice thin through the mic. I hear the fear in it, but there’s something else underneath, that startled curiosity that keeps pulling her back to the edge.

I let the silence stretch just long enough for her pulse to climb, then type again.

Don’t be afraid. I only want to watch you shine. The essay they gave you credit for last time wasn’t you. This one is, I’m proud of you.

She pushes her chair back slightly, glancing around the room, then toward the window. Her gaze darts back to the laptop. “Who are you?” she says aloud, her voice cracking but she’s trying to sound steady. “How did you get into my computer?”

I turn up the mic sensitivity, savoring the way her breathing has changed, shallower now, quicker. The camera catches the slight tremble in her hands as she pulls the blanket from her bed over her lap like it could shield her. God, she’s beautiful when she’s like this. Real. Mine in the ways she doesn’t understand yet.

I would never hurt you, Sadie. That’s the one thing you never have to fear from me. I’m the one who leaves the violets, so you know you’re thought of. The one who remembers how you like your coffee and the exact way you bite your lip when you’re nervous. I watch over you from afar because you deserve to be protected. Cherished. Even when you don’t see me.

She reads it, her lips moving silently. A flush creeps up her neck. She looks scared, her eyes flicking to the door, then back to the screen, but she doesn’t slam the laptop shut. Not yet. “This isn’t funny,” she says, quieter this time, almost like she’s testing if I can really hear her. “Stop it, please. If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.”

I let my fingers hover, choosing each word with tenderness.

I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to care for you, the only way I know how right now. From the shadows, where I can keep the worst things away from you. No one else sees you the way I do. No one else would rewrite your world just to make it safer, and brighter for you.

Her breathing hitches through the mic. She presses a hand to her chest, staring at the screen as if it might reach out and touch her. “Why me?” she whispers, barely audible. “What do you want from me?”

Everything. And nothing you’re not ready to give. I want you to sleep peacefully knowing someone out here is completely devoted to you. That every breath you take matters to me. Close your eyes soon, Sadie. I’ll stay right here, keeping the night gentle for you. The violets will be waiting when you wake up. Fresh ones. Just for you.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that I was going to leave her more flowers, but I can’t help it, I need to see her even if it’s for five minutes.

The cursor blinks after my message like a heartbeat. On the feed, I watch her press both hands to her face, torn between fear and the pull of something darker, sweeter. She doesn’t shut me out. Not completely. I stay right there with her, watching every micro-expression, every nervous shift of her body, drinking in the intimacy she doesn’t know she’s giving me.

I don’t close the window.

***

It took her nearly an hour to finally go to sleep. I watched every minute of it, the way she kept checking the laptop after I signed off, the nervous glances toward the window, and the way she pulled the covers up to her chin only to kick one leg free again twenty minutes later. I don’t know how deep that sleep is, but I need to be there anyway. I need to see her breathing up close.

The cloned swipe card slides through the reader. The dorm hallway is empty; the building wrapped in that perfect silence at three in the morning. Silence. I step inside and close the door behind me with a soft click. The new violets are in my hand; the stems are still cool from the all-night market. I set them on the kitchen counter beside yesterday’s bunch, adjusting the vase until the purple catches the faint range hood light exactly right. Fresh.

Just for her.

I move slowly through her space, letting my fingers trail along the back of the couch. Her mug from tonight still sits on the coffee table, faint lipstick on the rim. I pick it up, turn it in my hands, and inhale the faint trace of chamomile. The small, unguarded details she leaves behind like breadcrumbs only I know how to follow.

On the shelf by the window, I find the framed photo. Sadie smiles wide, her arm around a guy who looks a few years older. He has the same eyes and the same tilt to his smile. It’d better be her brother. My jaw tightens. I’ll look into it tomorrow, run his face, check the records, and make sure no one else thinks they have any claim on her. I set the frame back exactly as it was, angled slightly toward the light.

I walk toward the kitchen, clean the mug for her, put it to the side, then move to her bedroom.

She’s curled on her side under the thin comforter, facing the wall. Moonlight spills across the bed, painting her shoulder and the curve of her neck in silver. I stand at the foot of the bed for a long moment, just watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing. She’s so peaceful, and so completely unaware that I’m standing three feet away.

I step closer. The mattress dips slightly under my weight as I sit on the very edge, carefully, and silent. She doesn’t stir. My hand moves on its own, drawn like a magnet. I brush the backs of my fingers along her bare arm, feather-light, barely making contact with the warm softness of her skin. She’s warmer than I expected. She’s mine in this stolen moment. I trace the line of her shoulder, slow and reverent, then let my fingers drift up to the stray piece of hair that’s fallen across her cheek. I tuck it behind her ear with a touch so gentle it wouldn’t wake a butterfly.

My chest aches with how much I want her. Not just like this, quiet and unconscious, but awake, looking at me the way she looked at that screen tonight. Scared. Curious. Wanting.

I lean down until my lips hover just above her temple, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, close enough to smell the vanilla in her hair.

“You’re safe with me, Sadie,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “No one will ever touch you the way I will. No one else gets to have you like this.”