The Phone Wasn’t Mine—But It Knew Too Much About My Life

Yesterday, after my shower, I found a phone in my closet recording for 18 minutes. Shocked, I played the video: me humming, wrapped in a towel, then a dark screen with a raspy voice whispering, “You think nobody sees you… but I do.” Terrified, I live alone with my cat, Tofu, in a third-floor apartment, always locked. I called my cousin Zaria, who inspected the phone—no apps, no password, just the video. We searched my apartment, finding my jewelry box slightly moved. At a repair shop, tech guy Sohrab found deleted videos from weeks prior, showing my kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. One video revealed Lachlan, my ex from two years ago, who

hadn’t taken our breakup well. We went to the police, but they needed more evidence. Zaria and I installed motion-activated cameras. Days later, footage caught Lachlan placing another phone in my closet. Police arrested him, finding phones, my building’s blueprint, and a notebook detailing my routines. His cousin Moises, a maintenance intern, had been letting him in, unaware of Lachlan’s obsession. Lachlan faces charges; I upgraded my security. Trust your gut and check your shelves.