Jack comes home every night at 2 a.m., exhausted from his late-night job. Without fail, he sees a woman standing by her window, waving at him. He can’t shake the feeling that something is off. When he finally decides to uncover the truth, what he discovers is far more shocking than he ever imagined.
I was tired when I got home from work.
It was 2 a.m., and my night shift had been long. As usual, I parked my car and walked to my apartment. That’s when I noticed her again.
Every night, without exception, this strange woman was there, standing near her window, waving at me. I never saw her during the day, and even on weekends when I stayed home, she was nowhere to be found. Usually, I visited my parents on weekends, so I wasn’t around much.
Why is she always there at this hour? I wondered. I didn’t know her name, but she seemed to be in her thirties.
I have an unusual schedule and usually get home at 2 a.m.
This strange routine had been going on for weeks, and I couldn’t help but wonder about her as I continued walking to my apartment. Was she lonely? Did she work night shifts like me? I tried to push away my curiosity, telling myself it was none of my business.
We had never spoken, never exchanged a word. It was as if she only existed at night.
I entered my building, my thoughts still lingering on the mysterious woman. Maybe she just had a strange habit of watching the parking lot at night, I told myself.
One rare day off, I decided to stay home and relax. It was noon, and the sun was shining brightly. I stepped outside for some fresh air and noticed a real estate agent showing the woman’s house to a couple. Curious, I walked toward them.
“Excuse me,” I said, catching the agent’s attention. “I noticed you’re showing this house. Do you know the woman who lives here?”
The real estate agent looked confused. “A woman? I’m sorry, but no one has lived here for months. The previous owner passed away.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Passed away? But I see her every night, standing by the window and waving at me.”
“I’m certain, sir. The house has been vacant since the previous owner died.”
I didn’t believe in ghosts, so I was 100% sure I was seeing a real woman waving at me every night. This made no sense.
“There must be a mistake,” I said. “I see her every night at 2 a.m., waving at me from that window.”
The real estate agent frowned and glanced at the window I pointed to. “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. I’ve been handling this property since it went on the market, and I can assure you, no one lives here.”
How is this possible? I was certain I had seen a woman. She seemed so real, waving at me every night. I thought the agent must be mistaken.
As I returned to my apartment, I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling. What is going on? Is there really no one in that apartment?
My mind refused to accept the idea of ghosts. There had to be an explanation. I decided to keep an eye on things and see if I could figure out what was happening.
But that night, I had to visit my mom, so I wasn’t able to solve the mystery. The next night, when I got home from work, I was ready.
I parked my car and looked up at the window. But she wasn’t there. Determined to find answers, I walked up to her apartment and knocked on the window.
Glass windows in a brick building | Source: Midjourney
“I know you’re there. Open the window!” I said loudly.
After a moment, the window opened, and the woman looked outside, frightened.
“What… what’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, do you need something?”
“So, I was right. Someone lives here. I spoke to a real estate agent yesterday. He told me the previous owner of this place died months ago. But I see you here every night. What’s going on? Why do you wave at me every night?”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she looked even more scared. “I… I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m really sorry. I wave because… it’s comforting,” she said sadly. “It just… makes me feel less alone. And I haven’t moved out. I live here.”
“But he said the place was empty. People were touring your apartment.”
“I see,” she sighed.
She looked around nervously, as if expecting someone to appear. “Please, come inside,” she said, her voice shaky. “It’s not safe to talk here.”
I followed her inside. The apartment was tidy and minimalistic, just as the real estate agent had described. We sat down, and she took a deep breath.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently. “I’m Jack.”
“My name is Claire,” she replied. “I’m sorry for all the confusion. It must be my ex-boyfriend, Roger. He still has a key to my apartment.”
I was stunned. “What? Why does he have a key?”
“We broke up because he turned out to be a horrible person,” she explained. “He never returned the key, and I didn’t bother contacting him. I thought it was over.”
“But why is he showing your apartment?” I asked, still trying to process everything.
“Roger knows my schedule,” she said, lowering her gaze. “While I’m at work, he pretends to be a real estate agent and gives tours of my apartment. He scams couples by making them pay a deposit and then disappears. Since I keep my apartment neat, it looks unoccupied. I only recently found out.”
“So, he’s using your apartment to scam people?”
Claire nodded. “Yes. I had no idea he was doing this.”
A woman looking distressed | Source: Midjourney
“We need to call the police,” I suggested. “Roger needs to be stopped, Claire.”
Claire looked terrified. “I don’t know if I can do that. I’m really scared of him.”
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be with you. We can do this together.”
Claire finally agreed, and we started planning.
That night, Claire and I stayed up late, discussing how to deal with Roger. She was terrified of him, but she knew this couldn’t go on any longer.
“We need proof,” I told her. “Something concrete that the police can act on.”
Claire nodded hesitantly. “He usually comes in the afternoon when I’m at work. If we set up cameras or catch him in the act, we might have enough evidence.”
The next day, Claire called in sick to work, and I took the afternoon off. We set up a hidden camera in the living room and waited quietly in my apartment across the street, watching through the window.
At exactly 2:30 PM, a man showed up. He was well-dressed, carrying a clipboard, and leading a young couple toward the building.
“That’s him,” Claire whispered, gripping my arm. “That’s Roger.”
We watched as he unlocked the door to Claire’s apartment and invited the couple inside. Claire’s hands trembled as she clutched her phone, ready to call the police.
“We should go now,” I whispered.
Taking a deep breath, Claire dialed the police while we rushed across the street. Within minutes, two officers arrived, just as Roger was shaking hands with the couple—likely sealing another fake deal.
“Police!” one of the officers called. “Hands where we can see them!”
Roger turned pale as the officers approached. The couple looked confused, clearly unaware of what was happening.
“What’s going on?” the man from the couple asked.
“This man is a fraud,” Claire said, stepping forward, her voice stronger now. “This is my apartment, and he doesn’t have the right to be here.”
The officers checked Roger’s identification and found multiple fake rental contracts in his bag. It was enough evidence to arrest him on the spot.
Claire watched as Roger was handcuffed and led to the police car. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging with relief.
“It’s over,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile.
Claire turned to me, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, Jack.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone anymore,” I said. “You’re safe now.”
As we watched the police car drive away, Claire reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in weeks, she smiled.
And just like that, the mysterious woman in the window wasn’t a mystery anymore. She was a survivor, ready to take back her life.
