Samnýtt hljóð

At 2:17 AM, Maya’s phone buzzed. She groaned, half-asleep, and reached for it. 1 new notification. It was from an unknown number. “Don’t turn around.” She frowned. Probably a prank. Wrong number. She lived alone on the 8th floor—there was no one to “turn around” to anyway. She rolled her eyes and locked her phone. A second later, it buzzed again. 1 new notification. Same number. “I said don’t.” Now she was awake. Her heart started beating faster, but she forced a laugh. “Okay, not funn