Chapter 2
The next day at 2:30 AM, I sat at my desk, fingers gripping my coffee cup tightly. The radio sat quietly in the corner of the desk, waiting for that familiar voice.
'He's going to do it again. How does he know so much about me? This can't be a coincidence.'
"Good evening, night owls. This is Phoenix, bringing you another midnight serenade."
My heartbeat quickened, but this time it was laced with dread.
"Tonight, I have something special for a very special listener." Music began to flow—Frank Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight." "Miss T, this song is for you. I hope you enjoyed the city view from your window last night as much as I did watching you discover the truth."
"Tomorrow I'll recite Shakespeare's sonnets for you. Don't miss it, T. I have so much more to share."
I turned off the radio, terror and curiosity warring in my chest.
The third night. Despite every rational thought screaming at me to stay away, I came again.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate..." Phoenix's voice was deep and magnetic, each word like a caress on my nerves.
Against my better judgment, I found myself smiling.
On the seventh night, he began sharing listeners' love stories: "A listener wrote to me saying she fell in love with someone she's never met. T, do you think this kind of love is possible?"
The fifteenth night: "T, I chose Miles Davis's 'Kind of Blue' because I guess you like late-night blues. You're the kind of woman who would contemplate the meaning of life at 3 AM, aren't you?"
He was right. That's exactly who I am.
On the twentieth night, he began reading excerpts from love letters: "'My dear, I've never seen you, but I know your soul shines brighter than starlight.'"
I began to anticipate this moment every night. At work, I would absent-mindedly think about what he would say tonight.
"Theodora, you've been so distracted lately. Do you have a boyfriend?" my colleague Sarah asked in the break room.
"Don't be ridiculous, I just... my insomnia has gotten a bit better." I denied it frantically.
But Sarah's eyes were full of doubt: "Are you sure? You've been smiling to yourself lately, and you're staying late every night voluntarily."
"I've always worked late."
"Yes, but now you look... different. Like you're waiting for someone."
I fled the break room. Sarah was right—I was indeed waiting for someone. Someone I'd never met but who somehow knew me.
On the twenty-fifth night, I began tuning in ten minutes before 2:30 AM.
On the twenty-eighth night, I found myself checking my appearance in the mirror, then realized how absurd that was—though apparently, he could see me anyway.
On the thirty-first night, I could hardly wait to hear his voice.
"T, this is our 31st date. Do you remember? The first time you wrote me, you was full of exhaustion and loneliness. Now, I hope that loneliness has diminished somewhat."
He remembered every single night. Just like I did.
The thirty-third night.
At 3:17 AM, I sat in my office on the 42nd floor as usual, steam rising from my coffee. Phoenix's voice came through, but this time it was different.
"Good evening... T."
He paused for a long time, his voice becoming serious.
"Miss T, no, I should say Miss Theodora."
The coffee cup slipped from my hands, and the dark brown liquid spilled all over the documents on my desk. I shot up from my chair, the chair making a harsh scraping sound.
"What?" I shouted at the radio, my voice trembling.
"Theodora, working until 4 AM every night."
I looked toward the window in terror, seeing nothing but darkness. "How could he possibly know such details? Is he watching me?"
"Don't be afraid, Theodora. I mean no harm. For these thirty-three days, I've been waiting for the right moment to tell you the truth."
"Who are you exactly?"
"Do you remember three years ago, that night during the acquisition case? 42nd floor, 3:30 AM, you were standing by the floor-to-ceiling window making a phone call?"
That night...
"I know you're confused and scared right now. But I need you to know this isn't coincidental. The connection between us runs deeper than you imagine."
"Tomorrow night, I want to invite you to a special place. If you're still listening, if you want answers."
"Wait, you can't just—"
Soft jazz music came through the channel, and Phoenix's voice disappeared.
I collapsed back into my chair, my heart beating so violently it felt like it would burst from my chest. The spilled coffee spread across the documents, forming dark stains.
'He knows my name, my work, my past... Does he even know what I'm wearing right now?' The thought sent a chill down my spine.
I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the city's nightscape. Among the thousands of lights, were there eyes watching me?
'Thirty-three days of confessions—so none of it was coincidental. But why did he choose me? What does he want?'
Fear and curiosity intertwined in my heart. This Phoenix, this stranger who had made me anticipate thirty-three nights, suddenly became terrifying and mysterious.
