Anya stared at the message, her mind racing. The game was just beginning, and she was starting to realize that the stakes were higher than she ever imagined. But despite the danger, a strange sense of excitement, a thrill of the unknown, began to stir within her.
Now, as she lay in the bath, the warmth of the water no longer comforting, the text message replayed in her mind. "Be careful." What did it mean? Was it a warning? A threat?
Anya tried to rationalize it away. Perhaps it was a wrong number, a prank text. But the message resonated deep within her, a primal fear that something was wrong, something sinister.
She climbed out of the bath, the warmth of the water no longer comforting. She felt a shiver run down her spine, a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cool evening air.
She spent the rest of the evening on edge, every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, sending shivers down her spine. She kept checking her phone, waiting for a text from Ethan, hoping he was safe.
Finally, the doorbell rang. Anya's heart leaped into her throat. It was late, and she wasn't expecting anyone.
Peeking through the peephole, she saw Ethan standing there, a single red rose in his hand. Relief washed over her, quickly followed by a surge of apprehension. What if this wasn't a coincidence? What if someone was watching her?
Taking a deep breath, Anya opened the door. Ethan's smile faltered slightly when he saw the tension in her face.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Anya hesitated, unsure of how to explain the unsettling feeling that had been plaguing her all evening. "I… I received a strange text message," she confessed, her voice trembling. "It just said 'Be careful.'"
Ethan's expression turned serious. "A text message?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Who was it from?"
Anya shook her head. "I don't know. It was from an unknown number."
Ethan stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the apartment. He seemed to be assessing the situation, his senses alert. "Don't worry," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I'll make sure you're safe."
Anya looked at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and gratitude. His words were a balm to her frayed nerves, but his protectiveness also fueled a growing sense of dependence.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ethan smiled, a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come," he said, taking her hand in his. "Let's forget about the strange text messages. Let's enjoy the evening."
Anya allowed him to pull her towards the living room, her hand lingering in his, a strange sense of comfort washing over her. But as she looked into his eyes, a chilling thought occurred to her. What if Ethan was the one sending those messages? What if he was the one behind all of this?
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. The game, she realized, was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.