Obsession under the Sheets

No names, no promises

He stood in her room like he belonged there — like he had been there before.
But Lyah knew better.

No one had ever crossed that line with her. Not physically. Not emotionally.
No one had ever even come close.

He looked around without touching anything. The soft hum of the city outside filtered through the half-open window, mixing with the sound of her breath — shallow, uneven.

"You live alone?" he asked.

She nodded.

"And no one ever climbs through your window?"

"Not until now."

He let out a low, amused breath. "Then I feel honored."

She crossed her arms, trying to mask the way her body reacted to him — the heat in her cheeks, the tremble in her fingers, the way his voice made her heart misstep.

"You didn't tell me your name," she said.

"I didn't."

She raised an eyebrow. "So are you going to?"

He stepped closer, just a little. "Do you want to know it?"

She hesitated. That should've been an easy answer.

"Yes," she said. Then quickly added, "Eventually."

He tilted his head, intrigued. "Why not now?"

"Because... if I know your name, this becomes real. And I'm not sure I'm ready for real."

His silence said everything.
He understood. Maybe too well.

"No names then," he said quietly. "No promises either."

She nodded, unsure if it was bravery or fear guiding her.

"Why me?" she asked after a pause. "Why did you come back here?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes moved across her face, as if memorizing it. Then he said:

"Because you're not who you pretend to be."

The words hit her like a soft slap. Not cruel, but honest.
And terrifyingly true.

He stepped back, toward the window.

"I won't come unless you want me to."

And just like that, he was gone.
Lyah stood there, unmoving, staring at the empty window.
No name. No message. No trace.
Just the echo of his words... and the ache of being seen.