Chapter 5: Shadows and Suspicions

With my suspicions temporarily put to rest, I stopped following Derek.

I let myself relax, telling friends I was “finally taking a break from all the sleuthing.” But the questions kept gnawing at me, even as I tried to move on with my life.

Though I still hadn’t figured out why they acted like strangers during the day.

It was the one puzzle I couldn’t crack—why the charade, when it was so obvious to anyone who bothered to look?

That day, I was at home editing videos. After staring at the computer for too long, my eyes started to ache.

The blue light from my screen made everything blurry. I tossed my phone aside and rubbed my temples, thinking maybe it was time for a coffee break.

I decided to take a break and walked over to the window to look outside.

My apartment was bathed in golden light, the city moving lazily below. I yawned, stretched, and glanced across the street—pure habit by now.

Who would have thought, as I glanced out, I saw three figures faintly visible in Natalie’s apartment.

My heart stuttered. For the first time in weeks, I saw a stranger standing in their living room—a man, older, dressed for business.

My heart skipped a beat. This was the first time I’d seen a third person in their home. It was also the first time I’d seen them at home during the day.

I ducked behind the window frame, fingers trembling as I fumbled for the telescope. This felt different—dangerous, even.

The sudden scene ignited my curiosity, and I quickly grabbed the telescope to spy on them.

I dialed in the focus, my palms slick with sweat. This wasn’t part of their usual routine. Something big was going down.

The visitor was a man in a suit and tie, holding a briefcase.

He looked out of place—too polished for this neighborhood, eyes darting as he spoke. The tension in the room was visible even from across the street.

I saw Derek speaking seriously, while Natalie stood obediently at his side, her face expressionless.

She kept her eyes on the floor, lips pressed together. Derek’s jaw was clenched, his words sharp but too quiet for me to hear.

But for some reason, I thought I saw a trace of fear in Natalie’s eyes.

She shifted her weight, hands twisting the hem of her sweatshirt. Even from a distance, her anxiety was obvious—a kind of quiet panic you can’t fake.

Yes, fear.

I mouthed the word, feeling a chill crawl up my spine. This wasn’t the Natalie I knew from a distance—something was wrong.

I don’t know how long they talked, but eventually they stopped.

Time seemed to stretch, the minutes crawling by as the three of them stood in tense silence. Finally, the man in the suit set down his briefcase.

The man in the suit set the briefcase on the floor and slowly opened it.

The latches clicked open, echoing in my imagination like gunshots. My pulse hammered in my ears.

When I saw what was inside, my hands trembled.

Crisp stacks of hundred-dollar bills, piled neatly in rows. It looked like something out of a crime thriller, the kind of deal you hear about on true crime podcasts but never expect to witness yourself.

Because the briefcase was full of cash.

My breath caught in my throat. There was no way this was legit—not in a city where most people barely had enough to get by. It looked like a payoff, or worse.

It’s not unreasonable for me to overthink. The scene looked just like a shady deal from a TV drama.

I flashed back to every cop show I’d ever binged, half-expecting a SWAT team to burst through the door at any second. My mind spun with possibilities—drugs, blackmail, some kind of scam.

Honestly, I started to suspect they might be hiding some criminal activity.

I reached for my phone, adrenaline spiking, fingers hovering over 911. What if I was witnessing something I wasn’t supposed to see?

I swallowed hard and instinctively reached for my phone.

My thumb hovered. If I called, it’d all be over—Natalie, the mystery, maybe even my own life as I knew it.

The dial screen lit up, then went dark. But I still couldn’t bring myself to make the call.

I stood frozen, mind racing. If I called the cops, Natalie and Derek would be gone for good—maybe locked up, maybe worse. Part of me wanted to help, but another part just wanted to keep watching, to see how the story ended.

It was absurd—I was actually reluctant to lose Natalie. I didn’t want her to disappear.

I laughed bitterly at myself—here I was, prioritizing my own obsession over someone else’s safety. It was selfish, but I couldn’t let go.

Clearly, we had no connection. She didn’t even know I existed.

I tried to reason with myself—reminded myself I was nothing more than a shadow in the corner of her world, a nameless face in a sea of city lights.

But these thoughts lingered, and I couldn’t convince myself to act rationally.

I paced the length of my living room, caught between calling for help and letting things play out. In the end, my fear—and my need to know more—won out.

I lowered my hand, turned off the phone screen, and tossed it onto the couch.

The room felt colder, the silence heavier. I stood by the window, heart hammering, wondering if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Maybe things weren’t what I thought. Maybe I was just overthinking.

I replayed the scene in my mind, trying to come up with a more innocent explanation. Maybe the cash was for rent, or a loan from a friend. But nothing fit.

I tried to comfort myself—or maybe I was just lying to myself.

Either way, I gave up on calling the cops.

I sank onto the couch, covering my face with my hands. If this was a TV show, I’d have been the hero. In real life, I was just scared.

After that, I saw Derek give Natalie a look. Natalie nodded silently and stepped forward to pick up the briefcase full of cash.

Her hands shook as she lifted the case, knuckles white. The man in the suit smiled thinly, said something I couldn’t hear, and Natalie flinched.

Next came a string of boring conversation. I couldn’t read lips, so I had no idea what they were saying.

They spoke in low voices, heads bowed together like conspirators. My imagination filled in the blanks, each possibility darker than the last.

Finally, the man in the suit nodded and, before leaving, pointed a finger at Derek, his eyes sharp—almost threatening.

It was a gesture you’d see in a gangster movie—a warning, a promise. Derek didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened.

After the man left, Derek and Natalie disappeared from my view one after the other.

They retreated into the back room, the blinds snapping shut behind them. The apartment went dark, as if the whole world had paused.

I don’t know if it was my imagination, but as Natalie left the room, she seemed to glance in my direction.

For a split second, I thought our eyes met. Her gaze lingered—too long, too sharp. My stomach flipped. Did she see me? Did she know?

It felt like she had discovered me.

The weight of that possibility crashed over me—guilt, fear, excitement all tangled together.

My heart skipped a beat, and I realized something serious:

If she’d seen me, if she’d really known I’d been watching, everything could change. My obsession wasn’t so secret anymore.

It was broad daylight. The room was bright. She could easily have noticed me.

My own apartment was lit up like a stage, my silhouette framed in the window. I cursed myself for being so careless.

Most importantly, when I was spying just now, I’d been in such a rush that I hadn’t closed the blinds—my whole body was exposed by the big floor-to-ceiling window.

I scrambled back, yanking the curtains shut so hard the rod rattled. My breath came in short, panicked bursts.

This is bad. This is really bad…

Every creak in the hallway sounded like footsteps coming for me. I couldn’t tell if it was guilt or real danger crawling up my spine. Every horror story I’d ever heard about stalkers and ruined reputations flashed through my mind. I imagined headlines, police at my door, my followers turning on me in a heartbeat.

My face went pale. I tossed the telescope aside, yanked the curtains closed, and hid myself in the darkness.

I sank onto the floor, knees pulled to my chest, listening for any sign of movement in the hallway outside. The apartment felt smaller than ever.

If my peeping was exposed, my career and life would be ruined. I couldn’t let that happen.

I pictured losing everything—my blog, my fans, my parents’ pride. One mistake, and it could all be gone in a flash.

But what terrified me most was, if they really were involved in something illegal—and realized I’d witnessed their deal—wouldn’t they try to silence me?

The thought sent a chill down my spine. Chicago might be a big city, but it has a way of making you feel very alone when you’re scared.

I curled up on the couch, countless thoughts racing through my mind.

Every sound in the hallway made me flinch. I kept replaying the scene, wondering if I could still get away before it was too late.

I even considered fleeing the city, just to save myself.

I started googling last-minute flights, checking bus schedules to anywhere but here. I couldn’t decide if I was being paranoid or practical.

After much deliberation, I finally decided to leave.

I threw clothes into a duffel, pocketed my passport, and made up my mind. It was better to run than risk being caught up in something I didn’t understand.

I booked a flight for the next morning and started packing.

I barely noticed the sun setting, the city lights flickering on outside. My apartment felt emptier than ever—like I was already gone.

I stayed home all day, not daring to go out.

I turned off my phone, ignored texts from friends, and jumped every time the building’s old pipes groaned. The fear felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.

That night was the first time I didn’t spy on their nightly passion.

For the first time in months, I let the blinds stay closed. I told myself it was over—that I’d never look back.