She's been living three houses down for years. Divorced, grown-up son mostly away at college now. Normal-looking aunty type — soft curves, not gym-fit, always in simple sarees or salwar at home. Pretty face, warm smile, sharp eyes that notice everything. We started chatting more after her son left again last month. Small stuff at first: she asked for help with her WiFi, then invited me for tea once. One evening she texted saying the kitchen light fuse blew. I went over, fixed it in two minutes. She poured whiskey instead of tea. Two drinks in, she got quiet, said it's lonely with no one around. Her hand rested on my leg — not bold, just there. I didn't move it. She looked at me, I leaned in. We kissed. Messy at first, she giggled when our teeth bumped. Bedroom was dark because she felt shy. Clothes came off slow. She covered her stomach a bit — stretch marks from pregnancy years ago. I kissed them anyway. She was wet but not crazy soaked like in stories, just ready. Went d...
Three months ago I started getting texts from an unknown number. Every night. Exactly **2:17 AM**. The first message just said: *“Did you lock the balcony door?”* I thought it was a wrong number. I ignored it. Next night, **2:17 AM** again. *“You forgot to water the plant again.”* Now that was weird. I **do** have a plant on my balcony. I had actually forgotten to water it. I replied: “Who is this?” No response. Next night: *“Don’t drink the milk in the fridge. It expired yesterday.”* I checked. It **had** expired yesterday. At this point I was half creeped out, half curious. So I wrote: “Okay this is getting weird. How do you know these things?” Two minutes later the reply came. *“Because I used to live there.”* That actually made sense. Maybe the previous tenant still had some weird attachment to the place. So I asked her name. *“Aanya.”* Over the next few weeks we kept talking. Only at **2:17 AM**. Never during the day. She knew **every corner of the apartment**. Which floorbo...