Jack arrived home every night at precisely 2 a.m., the world quiet and still, save for the dim streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. Exhausted from his grueling late shift, he looked forward to nothing more than the comfort of his bed. Yet, as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, a ritual awaited him, one that had become as regular as the ticking of the clock.

Every night, without fail, there stood a woman by her window across the street, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of her living room light. She waved at him, a slow, deliberate motion that seemed to pierce the quiet of the night. Jack could never quite make out her features, but her presence was as real to him as the weariness in his bones.

Initially, Jack thought little of the woman’s nightly greetings. Perhaps she was just a night owl or someone with an odd sense of neighborly courtesy. But as the weeks turned into months, her persistent presence began to gnaw at him. Who was she? Why was she always there, waving at exactly 2 a.m.? Why did he never see her during the day?

His curiosity piqued, Jack’s tired mind began to entertain all sorts of theories—some logical, others bordering on the fantastical. He knew her house seemed unusually quiet during the day; no signs of life, no coming and going, just the stillness of an uninhabited abode. Yet every night, there she was, waving.

One morning, driven by a mix of insomnia and intrigue, Jack decided to investigate. As he approached her house under the bright midday sun, he noticed something peculiar—a realtor sign planted firmly in the front yard. His curiosity turned into concern as he watched a young couple being shown around the property by a realtor.

Crossing the street, Jack intercepted them, his approach friendly but firm. “Excuse me,” he addressed the realtor, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re showing this house. Could you tell me about the woman who lives here? She waves at me every night.”

The realtor’s puzzled look did nothing to settle Jack’s nerves. “A woman? I’m sorry, but that can’t be right. This house has been empty for months. The owner passed away quite suddenly and it’s been on the market ever since.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. “Passed away? But… but I see her every night. She stands right there at that window,” he pointed, his finger trembling slightly, “and she waves at me.”

The realtor shook his head, a frown creasing his forehead. “I assure you, sir, the house has been vacant. Perhaps you saw someone else or…” His voice trailed off, not wanting to suggest Jack was seeing things.

Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Jack thanked the realtor and retreated, his mind racing with more questions than answers. That night, as usual, he saw her again. The waving woman was there, as real as ever. Jack decided that enough was enough. It was time to confront this nightly apparition.

The following evening, instead of his usual nod and retreat to his apartment, Jack crossed the street as soon as he spotted her at the window. He knocked loudly on her door, his heart pounding in his chest. The door slowly opened, and the woman appeared, real and solid, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Why do you wave at me every night?” Jack asked, his voice steady despite his racing heart.

The woman hesitated, then invited Jack inside. Her home was sparsely furnished