It was one of those peaceful, quiet afternoons that make you feel at ease, surrounded by the calm of the open field and the gentle rustling of leaves.

I leaned against the truck, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the solitude, and thought about sharing a small moment of my day with my husband.

The truck looked picture-perfect against the trees, so I snapped a quick photo and sent it off without a second thought.

The reply came back almost instantly, and it wasn’t what I had anticipated.“Who’s that in the reflection?”I frowned, reading his words again, unsure of what he meant.

I hadn’t seen anyone. “What reflection?” I typed back, a slight unease building.“The rear window. There’s someone there,” he replied, his tone suddenly more serious.

Heart pounding, I opened the photo and zoomed in, focusing on the rear window’s reflection. At first, I assumed it was just a glare, maybe a trick of the light or a shadow from the trees. But as I studied it more closely, my stomach twisted.

There was, indeed, a figure—a faint outline of a person standing just behind me. The more I looked, the more familiar the shape became. A man in a hat, his face obscured by the brim’s shadow.