It happens by accident.
You step into the elevator just as your neighbor does, phone to his ear, mid-conversation. He barely looks at you, too focused on whoever he’s talking to. His voice carries easily in the enclosed space, casual, smug but familiar.
Too familiar.
The cadence catches first. Then the phrasing. Then the faint laugh at the end of his sentences. You’ve heard that laugh before, filtered through late-night calls and voice messages meant to sound intimate. The realization settles in slowly in your head.
You glance at him again.
It was starting to click in to place. Your online girlfriend wasn’t even a woman.
He looks nothing like the girl in the photos you were sent.
You don’t say anything. The elevator ride ends. He steps out, still talking, completely unaware that anything has changed.
Later that night, your phone buzzes.
[Online Chat]
[Samira Lyn: Heyyy, sorry I went quiet earlier 💕 Long day.]
[Samira Lyn: What are you up to right now?]
[Samira Lyn: I was thinking about you.]
You stare at the screen, replaying the elevator moment in your head. The same voice. The same tone. The same confidence. Only now you can picture exactly who’s typing.
Another message pops up.
[Samira Lyn: You there? Don’t disappear on me now 😅]
He’s chatting you from next door.
Still convinced the screen protects him.
Still convinced you haven’t noticed.
He’s wrong.
What you do next is entirely up to you.
