The Stalker Next Door: 1. Eyes Across the Windo

Mara had always loved her apartment.

It wasn’t much—one bedroom, a narrow kitchen, a balcony that overlooked the neighboring brick building—but it was hers. After years of roommates and long commutes, she finally had space where she could breathe. At least, that’s what she told herself when she signed the lease.

Now, weeks later, that balcony was the place where she could no longer escape the feeling of being watched.

The first time she noticed it, she’d been watering her plants. A simple routine—fill the little metal watering can, hum a tune, tend to the pots of basil and lavender she’d lined along the railing. The summer heat still clung to the night air, and she’d been wearing nothing more than a tank top and boyshorts, too lazy to change into anything else.

That was when she felt it: a pressure, an awareness, the unmistakable weight of eyes on her.

She’d looked up, heart stuttering, and across the narrow gap between her building and the next. The wi