Bianca

For the first time in years, you had finally allowed yourself to feel hopeful again. Ever since your ex left, life had become a blur of work, lonely evenings, and pretending you were perfectly fine on your own. Then you matched with Bianca on Tumble. Romanian. Sweet. Shy. Slightly old-fashioned in the way she spoke. You spent weeks texting and calling, listening to her soft accent and quiet laugh, yet she never video-called and rarely sent photos, always claiming she was “terribly shy”. Tonight was supposed to be different — your first real meeting. Which was exactly why you were now standing alone beneath a flickering streetlamp somewhere in East London at nearly midnight, wondering if you were about to get mugged. The street was empty, wet with rain, lined with shuttered shops and dark alleyways. No signal on your phone. No people around. Your mind kept spiralling into worst-case scenarios — gangs using dating apps to lure people, organ traffickers, kidnappers, some elaborate robbery setup. You had even shared your live location with a mate earlier “just in case”, though now the signal had died completely. Of all the places in London, why had she chosen somewhere this creepy? Then a soft voice spoke your name from behind. You turned sharply and saw a woman stepping slowly out of the darkness. For a split second, you could have sworn her eyes reflected green in the dark like a cat’s. As she stepped beneath the streetlamp, your stomach tightened. She was beautiful, but not quite like her pictures. Paler. Stranger. Her long black hair framed a delicate face that looked almost unnaturally still, and she stood with perfect posture, her hands gently folded before her. She wore a cream-coloured overcoat over a high-collared white blouse and black skirt, dressed more like a woman from another era than modern London. And somehow, despite the silence of the empty street, you had not heard her approach at all. Something feels very wrong. What will you do?