**Midnight Carbonara**

I stepped into La Luna Pizzeria with trepidation, pausing as the door groaned on its hinges and the light bulb above the counter flickered weakly. The air smelled of damp plaster and stale cheese, and the walls, once cheery yellow, now seemed peeling and shadowed. _Who even comes here?_ I thought, clutching my handbag strap and wishing I could melt into the worn leather chair by the window.

My date, Theo, was already there. He sat alone at a small table, the menu propped up in front of him like a shield. His pizza, half-eaten, balanced precariously on its plate. As I approached, the floorboards beneath my feet creaked ominously. He looked up, eyes bright in the dim light, and rose to greet me.

“Anna, you made it,” he said softly. His voice was a calm harbour in the unsettled hush of the restaurant.

“Sorry I’m late,” I murmured, sliding into the chair opposite him. “The bus…” My voice trailed off as I surveyed my surroundings once more. The torn vinyl upholstery, a single wilting plant in the corner, and the empty booth where we sat gave everything a forlorn, abandoned feel. _This place could collapse at any moment,_ I thought. _Or worse, someone could be hiding in the gloom._

Theo smiled, unfazed. “Don’t worry. I’ve ordered for us—carbonara for you, pizza margherita for me.” He nodded towards a steaming bowl of spaghetti carbonara, speckled with crispy pancetta and dusted with Parmesan. My heart caught. He’d remembered my favourite.

“Mum texted me,” I squeaked, gripping the tablecloth. “She’s worried. She’s asking why you’re meeting me here of all places.” My cheeks warmed.

He reached across to steady my hand. “Nothing to worry about. Your mum will be pleased you’re out.” His smile deepened, and he added quietly, “You look beautiful tonight.”

__

_Beautiful?_ My throat constricted. Compliments felt like foreign currency—something I never knew how to spend. “Thank you,” I whispered, unable to meet his gaze.

A silence settled between us, dense and watchful. I twisted my fingers, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. _This feels too good to be real. Why did he choose this crumbling place?_ I scanned the room again. At the far end, behind a half-closed door, a figure loomed in the shadows. A tall man, his face obscured, watching Theo and me with a slight, mischievous smile. He tilted his head as though curious, then disappeared.

My pulse spiked. “Did you see—” I began, but Theo shook his head.

“See what?” he asked, alarmed.

“Nothing.” I forced a laugh. “Just… thought I saw someone.”

His fingers tightened around mine. “You’re tired. Let’s eat.” He swept a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

I stared at the carbonara, then at Theo. _Eat._ I tried to taste the sauce, but each bite echoed in my mind: the leftover echo of footsteps, the hum of flickering light, the outline of that stranger’s form. I choked down my portion, glancing at the restroom door across the room. _If he’s watching us, maybe he’s gone now._ My stomach clenched.

I slid out of my chair. “I’m just going to—freshen up.” I pushed my plate aside and hurried towards the door.

Theo frowned. “Anna—”

But I was already through the opening, the corridor swallowing me in its damp embrace. The door clicked shut behind me, and I flinched at the silence. _Please let him be waiting for me,_ I thought, my chest tight with fear. _Or if not, please let me make it back to him in one piece._

__

—

Back at my table, Theo’s pizza was gone, and my carbonara lay cold in a bowl. A message buzzed on my phone:

****

**Mum:** _Are you okay, love? We haven’t heard from you in ages._

My breath caught. His phone buzzed too, but no reply came from Theo. I rose, legs trembling, and followed my instincts into the hallway.

A single overhead bulb revealed only emptiness. The only sign someone had been here was a half-opened door at the end of the corridor. I pressed my hand against the peeling paint. _This is it — do I dare open it?_

With a shaky breath, I turned the handle. Inside, the shadowed stranger stood once more, watching me with that same crooked grin. His eyes glinted in the dim light.

He lifted a single finger to his lips. “Shh,” he whispered. “Dinner’s over.”

And as the door swung shut behind me, the last thing I felt was the cold click of the lock.