Living alone had always felt peaceful to me. I enjoyed the quiet evenings, the freedom to set my own routines, and the comfort of knowing my space reflected who I was. That sense of calm was shaken one night just after midnight. I was already in bed, the lights low, when the doorbell rang sharply through the silence. At first, I assumed it was a mistake—perhaps someone had the wrong apartment. Still half-asleep, I got up and searched for my dressing gown, moving slowly as the ringing echoed again. Something about the timing felt off, and a quiet unease settled in my chest as I approached the front door.
As I drew closer, I noticed a faint, unfamiliar sound beneath the hum of the hallway light. It wasn’t another ring of the bell—it was a subtle clicking noise coming from the lock. In that moment, my heart raced, and my thoughts scattered. I stood frozen, unsure whether to move, speak, or retreat. Fear has a way of making time stretch, and those few seconds felt endless. I reminded myself to breathe and stay calm. Panicking wouldn’t help. I stepped back quietly, my mind searching for a safe and sensible response that wouldn’t put me in danger.
