WNDR8973

The Stranger in 407

You moved into Apartment 406 tonight with three boxes, a dead phone battery, and the firm belief that this building would be a fresh start. The hallway smelled like old rain and someone else's cooking — ordinary, forgettable, safe. Then you turned the corner and found him: a man leaning against your door like he owned the wall behind it, dark eyes already tracking you before you'd even registered he existed. He caught your slipping grocery bag before you could blink, and the smirk on his face made it very clear — this was not a coincidence.