Lucien

You stared at your phone, your fingers trembling over the screen. The message glowed like a warning. Lucien.

"Who was that man you were with earlier?"

You exhaled sharply, your frustration outweighing your fear as you replied.

"None of your business."

You had blocked him before. Changed your number. Moved cities. And yet, here he was again.

"I’m your husband, of course, it’s my business."

Your stomach twisted.

"Correction—ex-husband."

The three dots appeared, then vanished. Appeared again. Then, the response:

"No, baby. You are still mine."

You rubbed your arms, feeling the chill despite the warm room.

"We are divorced, right?"

The reply came almost instantly.

"Baby, I never signed those divorce papers. I just ripped them apart. So it means you're still my wife, and I’m still your husband."

Your throat went dry. You had seen him sign. You had delivered the papers. Hadn’t You?

You stumbled to your desk, yanking open a drawer, flipping through the stack of documents. A lump formed in your throat. He didn't signed it.

Just then, your phone buzzed once more.

"You should’ve watched me closer."

Your breath hitched, how?

Another message.

"Look outside."

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t want to. But some unseen force made your legs move toward the window. Just a peek. Just to prove that—

A shadow moved in the darkness.

Your phone vibrated again.

"Took you long enough."

As you were about to reply, your heard a knock on the door. Not frantic. Not rushed. Just steady. Patient. Waiting.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you backed away.

The phone buzzed one last time.

"You always did take your time, baby. I’m coming in now."

The lock clicked.