Chapter 2:   

The Yellow Post-its

It was a new day in Cardiff, and Clara was getting ready for work. She felt exhausted from the all-nighter she had pulled the previous night, haunted by unsettling photos and a cryptic card. Still, she tried her best to push the memory aside and focus on moving forward.

At work, Clara, who was recently hired, often struggled to navigate the building and find her desk. After nearly getting lost again, she finally arrived at her workspace. She opened her desk drawer and her eyes fell on a yellow Post-it note tucked inside. She picked it up, her heart sinking as she read the message:

"I know your secret. Be cautious, or I might reveal it."

Clara froze. A storm of questions flooded her mind. Though every fiber of her being screamed to leave, she had no choice but to stay for the next three hours. Thankfully, she had arrived in the morning, which meant she could leave off more early than her

co-workers. Yet, as the minutes crawled by, the weight of anticipation pressed heavily on her chest.

She tried to focus on her work, hoping to distract herself, but her mind kept returning to the note. The sinister message gnawed at her, adding to her growing anxiety. Each time the clock ticked, it felt like a countdown to something unknown—and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, Clara steadied herself. No matter what this stranger was doing, she wanted to confront the situation with bravery. She knew that truth had a way of surfacing, and she was determined not to let fear dictate her actions.

When her shift finally ended, Clara stepped out into the evening air. The cold bit at her skin, but it paled in comparison to the chill running down her spine. As she walked home, the day’s events replayed in her mind: the unnerving note, the haunting photos from the night before, and the persistent sense of being watched.

Desperate for a distraction, she pulled out her phone to search for a nearby nail salon. A pedicure seemed like a small reprieve from her mounting stress. Navigating the streets of Cardiff, Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Every glance from a passerby sent her heart racing. Inside the nail salon, the calming ambiance provided a brief escape. The soft music, the soothing scents, and the plush chair helped ease the tension in her shoulders. As the nail technician worked, Clara allowed herself a rare moment of relaxation.

Later that evening, Clara decided to unwind further. She brewed her favorite herbal tea and curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket. The soft glow of candles filled the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere. Immersed in the pages of a gripping novel, she felt the shadows of her fears momentarily fade.

After a light dinner accompanied by her favorite playlist, she took a warm bath infused with lavender oil. The gentle heat enveloped her, washing away the day’s tension. Before going to sleep, Clara spent a few moments journaling, reflecting on the positives in her life. The ritual left her feeling calm and centered. Nestled in her bed, Clara took deep breaths and focused on the quiet night. Sleep came quickly, offering her a deep and peaceful reprieve.

But as the night deepened, the tranquility shattered. A faint rustling noise broke the stillness. Clara’s heart raced. Was it the wind—or something more sinister? She strained to listen, a chill creeping down her spine. Unable to dismiss her fears, she grabbed her phone and ventured cautiously into the kitchen.

Reaching for a knife from the drawer, Clara scanned her surroundings, her pulse pounding in her ears. Then she saw it: another yellow Post-it stuck to the

refrigerator.

"You should've let them live. It could have

changed everything.

She turned on her flashlight, the beam illuminating the empty kitchen. The note remained her only companion in the eerie silence. Her phone buzzed, breaking the tension. A message from an unknown number appeared:

"I hope you enjoyed your evening, Serena. Be careful when going out tomorrow.

Don't even try calling for help, I'll kill you."

Panic surged through her as she gripped the

phone. With trembling fingers, she typed,

"Who is this?"

But no reply came. Fighting the urge to call someone, Clara retreated to her room, turning on her bedside lamp for comfort.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she felt overwhelmed by the cryptic messages, eerie notes, and the sense of being watched. Seeking clarity, she opened her journal and began writing. Each word she penned brought her a small sense of control over the chaos.

As dawn broke, Clara glanced at her phone, determination flickering in her eyes. She resolved to uncover the truth behind the haunting photographs and cryptic notes. The answers were out there—she just had to be brave enough to find them.