Jack arrives home every night at 2 a.m., exhausted from his late shift. Without fail, he sees a woman standing by her window, waving at him. He can’t shake the feeling that something is off about this nightly wave. 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. And it was then I noticed her again.

Every night, without fail, that strange woman was there, standing by 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 visit my parents on weekends, so I’m not 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 work a weird schedule, and I usually arrive home at 2 a.m.

This strange routine of hers had been going on for weeks now, and I couldn’t help but wonder about her as I kept walking to my apartment. Was she lonely? Did she work night shifts like me? I tried to shake off the curiosity, telling myself it was none of my business.

We had never spoken, never exchanged a word. It was like she only existed at night.

I entered my building, my thoughts still on the mysterious woman. Maybe she just had a strange habit of watching the parking lot at night, I thought.

One rare day off, I decided to stay home and relax. It was midday, and the sun was shining brightly. I stepped outside for some fresh air and noticed a realtor showing the woman’s house to a couple. Curious, I walked over to them.

“Excuse me,” I said, catching the realtor’s attention. “I noticed you’re showing this place. Do you know the woman who lives here?”

The realtor looked puzzled. “A woman? I’m sorry, but there hasn’t been anyone living here for months. The previous owner passed away.”

I stared at him, taken aback. “Passed away? But I see her every night, standing by the window and waving at me. Are you sure?”

“I’m certain, sir. The house has been vacant since the previous owner died. Maybe you’re mistaken.”

I didn’t believe in ghosts or any paranormal stuff, so I was 100% sure I saw a real woman wave at me every night. This didn’t make any sense.

“There has to be some mistake,” I said. “I see her every night at 2 a.m. She waves at me from that window.”

The realtor 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 nobody lives here.”

How could this be possible? I was certain I saw a woman. She seemed so real, waving at me every night. I thought the realtor must have things mixed up.

As I headed back to my apartment, I couldn’t help but feel unsettled. What was going on? Was there really no one in that apartment?

My logical mind refused to accept the idea of ghosts. There had to be an explanation. I decided to keep an eye out and see if I could figure out what was happening.

But that night, I had to visit Mom, so I couldn’t solve the mystery. The next night, when I got back home from work, though, 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.

“I know you’re in there. Open the window!” I said loudly.

After a moment, the window opened, and the woman looked out, startled.

“What… what’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, did you need something?”

“So I was right. Someone is living here. I spoke to a realtor 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 seemed even more frightened. “I… I didn’t want to bother you. I’m so sorry. I wave because… it’s comforting,” she replied sadly. “It’s just… It makes me feel less alone. And I haven’t moved out. I live here.”

“But he said the place has been empty. People have been touring your apartment.”

“I see,” she sighed.

She looked around nervously as if expecting someone to jump out. “Please, come in,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s not safe to talk out here.”

I followed her inside. The apartment was tidy and minimalist, just like the realtor had said. We sat down, and she took a deep breath.

“What’s your name?” I asked gently. “I’m Jack.”

“I’m Claire,” she replied. “I’m sorry for all this 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 terrible person,” she explained. “He never returned the key, and I didn’t bother contacting him again. I thought it was over.”

“But why would he be showing your apartment?” I asked, still trying to process everything.

“Roger knows my schedule,” she said, looking down. “While I’m at work, he pretends to be a realtor and gives people tours of my apartment. He scams couples into paying a security deposit and then disappears. Because I keep my place tidy, it looks unoccupied. I–I only found out recently.”

“So, he’s been using your apartment to con people?”

Claire nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes. I had no idea he was doing this.”

“We should call the police,” I suggested. “Roger needs to be stopped, Claire.”

Claire looked scared. “I don’t know if I can do it. I’m really scared of him.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to face him alone. I’ll be with you. We can do this together.”

Claire finally agreed, and we came up with a plan.

The next day, Claire took a day off work and stayed home. I joined her for support. We waited anxiously, hoping our plan would work. Around noon, we heard the lock turn. Roger walked in with a couple for a fake viewing.

When he saw us, his eyes went wide with terror. Clearly, he didn’t expect us to be here. “Claire, I… I can explain,” he began, knowing he was caught red-handed.

Claire took a deep breath, but I could see her hands shaking. She looked at me for reassurance, and I gave her a nod. “What are you doing in my apartment, Roger?” she snapped, her voice wavering slightly. “Oh, let me tell you! You’ve been scamming people, showing my apartment as if it’s for rent, right? Give me my key back, now!”

The couple quickly realized this was not a place they wanted to rent and awkwardly left, whispering to each other.

Roger, now alone with us, tried to defend himself. “Claire, I didn’t mean any harm. I just needed some money.”

Claire’s eyes blazed with fury, but her voice still trembled. “I SAID return the key and destroy any copies you made, or else!”

Roger sneered, “Or what?”

Claire took a deep breath and pointed at me. I stepped forward, standing tall. “Or my new boyfriend will deal with you!”

I wasn’t Claire’s boyfriend, but to show Roger she wasn’t alone, I had to play along. “You heard her, Roger,” I said. “Hand over the key.”

Roger, seeing he was outnumbered and defeated, reluctantly pulled the key from his pocket and handed it to Claire. “Fine, here. Just leave me alone.”

Claire took the key and glared at him. “If I find out you made any copies, I won’t hesitate to call the police.”

Roger left, muttering under his breath. The key was finally back in Claire’s hands.

“You handled that really well,” I said, turning to face her.

Claire smiled, relief washing over her face. “Thanks, Jack. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “So, would you like to go out sometime? I promise, no matter what, I’d never steal your key!”

Claire laughed, the first genuine laugh I’d heard from her. “I’d like that, Jack. Thank you for everything.”

A few days later, Claire and I went on our first date at a cozy local café.

“You know,” I said, chuckling, “I thought you were creepy for waving at me at night with that harsh light illuminating your face.”

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! It must have been the laptop. I use it near the window until late evening, so I always see you coming home. I thought you were cute, so I was happy to wave at you. Gosh, did I really look like a creepy ghost?!”

I pulled out my phone and showed her a picture I had taken one night. Claire gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh noooo, no wonder you thought I was a ghost! You are so brave for knocking on my window. What if I really turned out to be a ghost?”

“Then, I’d be asking a ghost to join me for coffee,” I said, and we both laughed. “But on a serious note, I guess it all worked out in the end.”

Claire nodded, her eyes twinkling. “It did. And I’m glad it did. Here’s to new beginnings.”

What would you have done?

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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.