The Neighbourhood Watcher
How it Started
Moving back home after years abroad felt like hitting reset. New apartment, old city, fresh start. Mostly I was working, walking my dog, meeting people, trying to blend quietly into a life I’d been missing. Just another anonymous resident in a building full of stories I didn’t know yet.
I said hi to her once, casually, in passing. A new neighbour, just a face in the hallway. Friendly but forgettable, I thought.
The Mailbox Mystery
Months later, I still hadn’t changed the name on my mailbox. Liife admin wasn’t exactly top of mind. Usually, mail was delivered just fine. Sometimes the postman would leave it in the lobby. Other times he would call. No big deal. Until one evening, my phone buzzed:
“You shouldn’t leave your mail lying around. Good thing our mailman gave me your number. Otherwise, how would I reach you?”
I stared at the screen. Re-read it. A chill crawled up my spine. She continued, telling me she’d been thinking about me since we said hi. Months ago. She wanted to hang out, "get to know each other better."
I was polite but clear. "I appreciate it, but I’m not interested. Just moved, settling in, not looking to complicate things." I figured that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
The messages piled up, increasingly intense. “Why are you like this?” “Did I say something strange?” “Is it how I look?” “Is there someone else?” It was like she’d binged too many romcoms and took notes from the villain, not the lead. I blocked her on WhatsApp and thought that would be the end of it.
The Walk She Took Without Me
Months passed, and this faded from my thoughts. Until another ping shattered my sense of peace:
“You blocked me, but you missed a spot. I finally got that walk I wanted with you. You didn’t see me, but I was right behind you. I enjoyed it, thinking about what you had in your grocery bag.”
My heart skipped. Maybe it was bad timing - Netflix had just released "Baby Reindeer," and perhaps paranoia was contagious. But the feeling of being quietly watched, someone wondering what ingredients filled my fridge, was a violation I couldn't shake.
Final Floor Encounter
From then on, every hallway felt smaller. Every turn of the lock had me wondering who was listening. I took precautions, tightened my privacy, and waited for peace.
Then came the elevator.
She stood inside as the doors slid open, her mouth curved in a smile, but her eyes remained cold and detached “There’s room for one more,” she said softly.
There wasn’t.
I took the stairs.
Note to Self
Boundaries aren’t just for dating. They’re for survival. Sometimes friendliness invites fixation, not friendship. And obsession isn’t romantic, it’s terrifying. You’re allowed to walk away, especially when "hello" becomes a hidden "I’m watching."
