The clock ticked past midnight, and the quiet of the apartment was almost deafening. Kinjal sat curled up on the couch, her laptop open on the coffee table. The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound, broken occasionally by the distant hum of cars on the street below. The lights in the living room were dim, casting long shadows on the walls, but Kinjal was wide awake.

Her sharp brown eyes were glued to the laptop screen, scanning the footage from the security cameras they had installed around their building. Days of mysterious deliveries and anonymous notes had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She had spent the past few hours trying to convince herself it was harmless—a romantic gesture from someone too shy to approach her directly. But her instincts, honed from years in law enforcement, refused to let her rest.

Somewhere in her gut, Kinjal felt there was more to this than just admiration.

---

As Vayra slept soundly in her room, Kinjal leaned back on the couch, her hand absently tugging at a loose strand of her silky dark hair. Her thoughts raced, jumping between plausible theories.

“What’s the angle?” she muttered to herself, her voice low and tinged with frustration. “Who would go through all this effort, and why?”

She rewound the footage for the third time, slowing it down frame by frame. There was nothing unusual. A few delivery guys, a couple of neighbors passing by, and the usual street activity. No one suspicious. No one lingering near their apartment longer than necessary.

The lack of evidence only heightened her anxiety.

---

Kinjal’s mind refused to stop churning. Was it someone from her past? A criminal with a grudge, trying to get inside her head? Or was it a colleague, playing some kind of twisted prank? The possibilities were endless, and the lack of answers gnawed at her.

Her eyes flicked to the dining table, where the latest bouquet of flowers sat, still fresh and vibrant. Next to it, the small teddy bear, the neatly folded notes, and the empty cake box she hadn’t yet thrown away. It was all too much.

Kinjal’s sharp mind, usually so adept at analyzing cases, was drawing a frustrating blank. The admirer hadn’t left any traceable clues. No fingerprints, no handwriting to analyze, no identifying marks on the deliveries. Even the notes were printed, typed out in a plain, generic font.

Her fingers drummed against the edge of the laptop. She felt an unfamiliar sensation creep over her—a mix of vulnerability and unease. It wasn’t like her to feel scared.

---

She stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the living room. Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor as she moved, her mind racing. Every corner of the room seemed to hold a question she couldn’t answer.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered into the empty room, her voice trembling slightly.

Her mind replayed every interaction she’d had in the past few months, trying to pinpoint anyone who might be behind this. She thought of the recent cases she’d worked on, the people she’d encountered during investigations, even the casual acquaintances she’d met through Vayra or at work.

Nothing added up.

---

At some point, Kinjal found herself sitting at the dining table, staring at the flowers. She reached out and plucked a petal from one of the blooms, twirling it between her fingers.

Her sharp mind, usually her greatest asset, was now her worst enemy. It wouldn’t let her rest. Every time she tried to dismiss the situation as harmless, a darker possibility would creep in.

What if this wasn’t about admiration? What if it was about control? About power?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

---

Determined to find answers, Kinjal turned back to the laptop and began digging deeper. She pulled up the names of every delivery service in the area, cross-referencing them with the times the gifts had arrived. She searched for any unusual patterns or anomalies in the transactions. But again, nothing.

Her frustration grew, and with it, her fear.

Her thoughts spiraled into worst-case scenarios. What if this person was watching her even now? What if they were someone she saw every day but hadn’t noticed? What if their intentions weren’t as harmless as they seemed?

She shook her head, trying to banish the dark thoughts.

“Get a grip, Kinjal,” she muttered to herself. “You’re overthinking. You always overthink.”

But the reassurance felt hollow.

---

As the hours dragged on, Kinjal’s exhaustion began to take its toll. Her eyes burned from staring at the screen, and her muscles ached from sitting in one position for too long. But she couldn’t stop.

She pulled out her phone and started searching for similar cases online—stories of anonymous admirers who had turned out to be something more sinister. Each article she read only added to her anxiety.

One story was about a woman who had received gifts and notes from a stranger, only to discover that the person had been stalking her for months. Another was about a man who used anonymous deliveries to gain his victim’s trust before trying to harm her.

Kinjal’s fingers trembled as she set the phone down.

---

By the time the clock struck 3 a.m., Kinjal was no closer to finding answers. She leaned her head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Her sharp mind was relentless, refusing to let her rest even for a moment.

She thought about waking Vayra, but the idea felt selfish. Vayra had been working nonstop for weeks and deserved a good night’s sleep.

Kinjal sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was on her own with this, at least for now.

---

The stillness of the apartment felt oppressive. Every creak and rustle seemed magnified, making her jump. She glanced at the locked front door, half-expecting to see a shadow pass by the peephole.

Her mind raced with possibilities. Was the admirer watching her right now? Were they waiting for her to let her guard down?

She stood up abruptly and began checking the locks on the windows and doors, her movements quick and methodical. Her heart pounded as she double-checked the security system, making sure everything was armed and functioning.

But even with all the precautions, she couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability.

---

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the windows, Kinjal finally sank back onto the couch, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her mind, though still racing, began to slow as fatigue took over.

She stared at the flowers on the table, her thoughts a tangled mess.

Whoever this admirer was, they had managed to do something no one else had ever done. They had gotten under her skin.

---

When Vayra woke up a few hours later, she found Kinjal asleep on the couch, the laptop still open on the coffee table. The dark circles under Kinjal’s eyes told a story of sleepless nights and endless worry.

Vayra gently shook her awake. “Hey, are you okay?”

Kinjal opened her eyes, her mind still foggy from lack of sleep. She looked at Vayra, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Vayra. I don’t know.”