When Julian said he had room for one more on the cabin trip, I didn’t think twice. He was my best friend Leina’s boyfriend—I trusted him. She was supposed to come too, but literally an hour before we left, she texted me: “Can’t go. Family stuff.”
I asked Julian if we should cancel, but he just shrugged and said, “Nah, we already paid for the cabin. Let’s go enjoy the snow.”
So yeah… I went. Just me and him.
At first, it was normal. We talked music, podcasts, stupid road trip snacks. The Jeep was this decked-out orange beast, and he was clearly proud of it. But once we got deeper into the woods, where there was no signal and barely any signs of life, things shifted.
He started saying weird stuff—like how he always felt “closer” to me than most people, how I “got him” in a way even Leina didn’t. I tried to laugh it off, thinking maybe I was just reading too much into it. But my stomach was twisting by the minute.
That second morning, I walked out alone to grab something from the Jeep, just needing space. It was still snowing. And then I saw it.
Tucked under the wiper blade—like someone had driven through the night to leave it.
A folded scrap of paper, soggy at the corners.
I recognized Leina’s handwriting before I even opened it.
One sentence.
“I know what he told you. Don’t believe anything.”
I froze. Literally just stood there in the snow, heart racing.
What the hell did she mean? What had he told her about me… or us?
And more importantly—how did she know where we were?
I looked around, half expecting her to jump out from behind a tree or something, but it was just me and the sound of my own breath. I shoved the note in my coat pocket and walked back inside, trying to play it cool. Julian was making coffee, humming like nothing was weird.
I kept my voice steady. “Hey, did you go outside this morning?”
He looked up, mug in hand. “Nah, why?”
I shrugged. “Just thought I saw footprints.”
He didn’t blink. “Probably yours from earlier.”
But I knew they weren’t. The snow was fresh, and these prints were deep—boot marks, way larger than mine.
For the rest of the morning, I acted normal. Laughed at his jokes, helped make breakfast, but I was watching him closely. He was too calm, too smooth. And suddenly, all the things he said in the car on the way here replayed in my head—but now they felt… calculated. Like he was testing me, seeing how far he could push boundaries.
That afternoon, I pretended I had a headache and said I needed to lie down. He offered to bring me tea, but I said no thanks. As soon as he went outside to chop wood—he loved doing that, all rugged-manly—I pulled out my phone and climbed up onto the window ledge in the back room. It was the only spot where I had caught a sliver of signal earlier.
No bars.
I held it up higher. Still nothing.
Then suddenly—one bar. I quickly texted Leina.
“Got your note. What’s going on???”
I hit send and waited. Nothing. Then two minutes later: Delivered.
And a minute after that: “He lied about me not coming. I never canceled. He told me YOU backed out. So I stayed home. Then I tracked the Jeep’s GPS through my app.”
I sat there, heart pounding. That didn’t even make sense. Why would Julian lie like that?
Unless…
Unless this trip was never supposed to be a group thing.
I texted back: “Why would he do that? What’s his deal??”
“He’s been obsessed with you. Said you were his ‘real match’ and that I was in the way. I didn’t want to believe it but… I saw your name on his lock screen in a message from weeks ago. You never sent it. He’s faking things.”
I felt sick. A heavy, crawling nausea that settled in my bones.
I didn’t even have time to respond before the door creaked open.
“Hey,” Julian’s voice was way too casual. “You feeling any better?”
I quickly slid the phone under the pillow and nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He smiled like he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push. “Dinner in twenty.”
As soon as he left, I slipped my coat on and stuffed a few essentials into my backpack—wallet, keys, the charger, even though there was no signal. I needed an escape plan.
The problem? We were miles from the nearest town, and walking through the snow alone would take hours. And I didn’t even know which direction to go.
So I stalled.
That night, I barely touched my food. Julian talked about how beautiful the stars looked from the back porch. He invited me out with him to “stargaze.” I lied and said my stomach still hurt.
He stayed out there a while. Long enough for me to slip into the bathroom and send one last text to Leina.
“I don’t feel safe. What do I do?”
She replied almost immediately.
“I’m already halfway there. Brought my cousin. Stay put. Don’t let him know.”
I nearly cried with relief.
The next hour crawled by like molasses. I sat on the couch, pretending to read, while Julian played music from his phone and stared into the fire like it held the answers to the universe. Every once in a while, he’d glance at me and smile. But it wasn’t a normal smile. It was the kind you see in movies, just before something really bad happens.
Then headlights.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Julian stood too, confused. “Did you hear that?”
I nodded. “Maybe a ranger?”
He moved toward the window. “That’s weird…”
And then, before he could say anything else, the front door flew open.
Leina burst in, her face flushed and wild with urgency. Behind her was her cousin—massive, serious, and holding a snow shovel like a weapon.
Julian froze. “Leina? What are you—”
She held up her phone. “I know everything. You’re sick.”
Julian’s eyes darted between the three of us. “You’re overreacting. I just wanted to clear the air between us.”
“By lying?” she snapped. “By isolating her out here? You told us both the other one backed out!”
He tried to talk, but her cousin stepped forward, his presence enough to shut Julian up.
“Get your stuff,” Leina said to me, calm but firm. “We’re leaving.”
We packed fast. Julian didn’t stop us. He just stood there, stunned, like the whole plan had cracked wide open and he didn’t know what to do next.
On the way back, I sat in the backseat, staring out the window, still trying to process what had almost happened.
Leina turned to me halfway down the mountain. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks for coming.”
She smiled. “You’d have done the same.”
It took a few days to feel normal again. I blocked Julian. He tried texting from different numbers, sending these dramatic apologies, but I ignored every one.
A week later, Leina sent me a screenshot from her GPS app—she’d shared it with the local park service. Turns out, Julian had taken other girls on “solo” trips before. Nothing ever happened—thankfully—but it painted a disturbing picture.
Apparently, someone finally talked. He’s being investigated now. And all I can think is, that note saved me.
The note, the friendship, the gut instinct that said something’s off—that’s what really matters.
Sometimes, people seem good. Seem safe. But real trust is in actions, not words.
And if something feels wrong? Listen to that feeling. Don’t brush it off. Because one note, one friend, one decision can make all the difference.
If you’ve ever had a gut feeling that turned out to be right—or a friend who showed up when you needed it most—share this story. Someone else might need that reminder right now. 💙
