The house looked forgotten by time. Ivy crawled up the walls like veins. The gate hung lopsided on rusted hinges, groaning softly in the breeze. The windows were boarded, except one on the second floor—partially open, its curtain fluttering like a beckoning hand.
I shouldn't have gone in.
But I did.
The gate creaked as I pushed it. The yard was overgrown, the grass brittle and dry beneath my shoes. As I stepped closer, I noticed something odd—footprints. Clear, deliberate steps in the dirt. Recent. Small. Hers.
My breath hitched.
The front door was unlocked.
I slipped inside.
---
Dust swirled in the air. The wooden floor groaned beneath my weight. The house smelled like mildew and something else—coppery. Faint. Sharp.
I followed the sound of footsteps up the stairs.
Aiko was nowhere in sight.
But I found the room.
It was in the back, tucked behind a warped hallway. The door was slightly ajar.
Inside, the walls were lined with shelves stacked with notebooks. Hundreds. Maybe more.
Each one bore a date.
Each one had my name.
I pulled one down and opened it.
Page after page of writing. Meticulous. Obsessive.
Logs of my daily life. What I wore. What I ate. Who I smiled at. What time I went to bed.
I flipped to the end.
"He looked at her again today. Emi. He smiled. I think he's trying to forget me. I won't let him."
My blood turned cold.
I opened another.
And another.
Every thought, every glance, every word I'd spoken in the last two years—documented.
She'd been watching me long before she ever transferred into my school.
---
I heard a floorboard creak behind me.
I turned.
Aiko stood in the doorway, holding a pair of scissors.
Not raised. Not threatening.
Just... holding.
"You found my sanctuary," she said softly.
I couldn't speak.
"You weren't supposed to see it yet," she continued, stepping inside. "This is where I keep my memories of us. All the parts you forget—I keep them safe."
I backed away.
"You're insane," I whispered.
Her eyes filled with tears, but her voice didn't waver.
"No. I'm in love. Don't you see? No one else would ever go this far for you."
I stared at her, heart pounding. "You think love is control. Fear. Obsession."
She shook her head slowly. "No. Love is permanence. You'll understand soon."
She stepped closer.
I grabbed one of the notebooks and held it between us like a shield.
"If you come near me—"
She stopped.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then don't come looking for me again."
She stepped past me, brushing my shoulder.
And then she was gone.
---
I ran.
I didn't stop until I was back in town, gasping, shaken.
I didn't know what scared me more—that she had been watching me for years…
Or that a part of me had missed her when she left the room.
---
The next morning, she didn't come to school.
Nor the next.
Her seat remained empty. The teachers said nothing. The students gossiped at first, then moved on.
But I couldn't.
I called her number. No answer.
I walked past her house with the red curtains.
Lights off. Mail piling at the gate.
I even returned to the abandoned house.
Empty.
All the notebooks were gone.
---
Then came the letter.
No envelope. Just a page, slid into my locker.
The handwriting was hers.
"You wanted space. I've given it to you. But space is a void. And soon, you'll realize that without me, you're nothing but silence. I'll be waiting where it all began. Don't keep me long. Love, Aiko."
I crumpled the letter, heart racing.
Where it all began.
What did she mean?
School?
Her house?
The hill behind the sports field where she first spoke to me?
I checked everywhere.
Nothing.
I felt like I was losing my mind. She had evaporated, taking my sanity with her.
---
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Something inside me began to unravel.
I'd wake up thinking I saw her in the corner of my room.
Hear her voice in static.
Smell her perfume in crowded places.
I hated her.
I missed her.
I needed her to stop.
I needed her to come back.
---
Eventually, I did what I swore I never would.
I went to the police.
I gave them everything—the photos, the notebooks I'd grabbed, the letter.
They searched. Called her last known guardians. Checked her school records.
Nothing.
It was like she'd never existed.
---
And then Emi disappeared.
No warnings. No signs.
She never made it home from cram school.
They found her phone in a drainage ditch.
No one had answers.
But I did.
And it brought me back to the place I'd avoided for weeks.
The house with the red curtains.
---
I returned late at night.
I brought a flashlight and a crowbar, my heart thrumming in my ears.
The gate groaned like a warning.
I ignored it.
The door was locked now. I forced it open.
Inside, the house was dark, colder than I remembered.
The red curtains blocked every hint of moonlight.
And then I heard it.
A soft, humming sound.
Coming from the basement.
---
I followed it, down creaking stairs into shadow.
And there she was.
Sitting on the floor, her back to me.
In front of her: a chair.
Empty.
A coil of red ribbon draped over the armrest.
"Aiko," I said.
She turned slowly.
And smiled.
"I knew you'd come back."