Don't Trust Him (A Short Story)

DON’T TRUST HIM

I look at my phone, smiling. It’s 7 p.m. Me and my boyfriend, Alex, always call at 7 p.m. It’s our daily routine. I dial his number.“Hi!” I greet, even though we’re already on the phone, I can feel his smile from the other side.“Missed me?”I chuckle. “More than you thought.”“You know, you’re turning 21 tomorrow. I have a surprise for you. Meet me at Wanderlight Park.”I grin, excitement bubbling inside me. “I’ll be waiting for the surprise.”He hangs up.

I smile, feeling lucky to have such a loving boyfriend. I wonder if it will always be this way, or maybe we’ll even get married. I just hope it never ends.

The next day, I wake up and get dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans, tucking my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. It’s my birthday, so whatever surprise Alex planned is sure to be good. I trust him.

I head out into the cool air, smiling. I walk to Wanderlight Park. It’s strange how empty it feels—most days the park’s filled with people, but today it’s eerily quiet. I keep walking, finally reaching the center of the park. Balloons float lazily in the air, and decorations are up, but as I stand there, the silence weighs on me.

Then, the people who were there all shouted in unison, “Happy birthday!” I laugh, overwhelmed with joy. Then, I feel someone walking up behind me. I know exactly who it is.

I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, “Happy Birthday, Lily.” His voice is warm, his presence familiar, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

We spent the rest of the day celebrating. When midnight finally came, Alex drove me home, and I headed to my room, overjoyed by everything that had happened. I changed into a nightgown, still smiling as I lay on my bed. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but eventually, I drifted off.

I wake up at 3:33 a.m. to the sound of a text message.

Frowning, I reach for my phone. Who would be texting me at 3:33?

The message reads: “Don’t trust him.”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Who is “him”? I roll my eyes, brushing it off. Must be a prank. I put my phone down, but something about it stirs an uncomfortable feeling in my chest.

The next day, I wake up, the text completely forgotten. I work all day, trying to push the odd feeling away. But when it’s 7 p.m., I eagerly pick up my phone. It’s time for our daily call.

I call Alex, but it rings twice before he answers. His voice sounds… different. “Hey, Lily, I’m busy right now. I’ll call you later.” He hangs up before I can say anything.

I frown. This has never happened before. He’s always made time for me, no matter what. I shake it off—he must be busy. Maybe an important meeting.

The odd behavior continues for a week. Every call, Alex sounds more distant. The text from the night I received it haunts me. The paranoia creeps in.

Finally, Alex calls me again. I pick up eagerly, “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry, Lil,” he says. “I haven’t been able to talk to you properly. Maybe I can make it up to you by coming over?”

I smile, the paranoia fading, replaced with excitement. “Yes, that would be perfect!” He hangs up.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. I rush to open it and wrap my arms around Alex, relieved to see him. He smiles and hugs me back.

We talk for hours. Time slips away, but when the clock strikes 3:33, something changes. A cold chill runs through me, and suddenly, everything around me glitches—a quick, jarring flicker. Then, the message rings in my ears, louder than before: “DON’T TRUST HIM.”

I swallow hard. The paranoia I tried to shake off returns in full force. I glance at Alex.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumble, my voice unsteady.

He smiles, “Take your time.”

I walk into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror, trying to calm my nerves. But as I look deeper, something’s wrong.

There’s another version of me standing behind me, staring at me with empty eyes. On the mirror’s surface, the words “Don’t Trust Him” are written in blood.

I gasp and spin around, but Alex is right behind me, too close, his grin too wide.

He leans in, his breath cold against my ear.

“You should’ve listened.”

THE END