00.00 Biri Sizi Dusunuyor - N. G. Kabal Apr 2026

"Ben." That was the last night Elif slept with the lights off. And the first night she understood: sometimes, the person thinking about you isn’t a stalker, or a ghost, or a lover.

Her stomach turned cold. She walked slowly to her bedroom, lifted the pillow. A small, pink, plastic hairpin—one she’d lost three months ago—lay on the gray bedsheet.

The messages continued every midnight. Each one more intimate than the last. "Bugün mavi kazak giydiniz." (You wore the blue sweater today.) "Sol ayağınızı sağ ayakkabıyla giydiniz." (You put your left foot into the right shoe.) "Komşunuzun kedisi öldü. Üzüldünüz ama ağlamadınız." (Your neighbor’s cat died. You were sad, but you didn’t cry.)

Sometimes, it’s the version of you that never left the dark. 00.00 Biri Sizi Dusunuyor - N. G. Kabal

But the messages didn’t come to her phone anymore.

And then the reflection spoke again, softly, as if sharing a secret:

Here’s a short story inspired by the title by N. G. Kabal . It was 00.00 when the notification lit up Elif’s phone. She walked slowly to her bedroom, lifted the pillow

She was halfway through a glass of cold water, standing by the kitchen window in the dark. The city outside was a smear of amber lights and distant sirens. Her phone buzzed once—a sharp, clean vibration against the marble counter.

No reply.

"Yastığınızın altında saç tokası var. Pembe." Each one more intimate than the last

Elif frowned. A prank? A wrong number? A new dating app feature? She didn’t swipe right on anything that required her real number. She locked the screen and finished her water.

They started coming from inside.

"Birisi sizi düşünüyor."

On the seventh night, at 00.00, she heard a whisper in her own voice, coming from the mirror in the bathroom.

Elif changed her phone number. She bought a camera for the hallway. She told the police, who shrugged and said, "Probably an ex. Block and ignore."