Never Alone

Nadja, a young, driven woman with a successful career and a carefully curated life, moves into a new apartment in hopes of finding balance, independence, and peace. For the first time in years, she’s alone—but on her own terms. The apartment is modern, clean, and quiet. Almost too quiet. At first, the oddities seem minor. Objects out of place. Flickering lights. A faint whisper in the middle of the night that could easily be explained away. But the feeling of being watched, the cold sense of presence in the empty rooms—those are harder to ignore. The more Nadja tries to rationalize, the more the disturbances intensify, following no pattern, offering no logic. She turns to those around her—an old tenant, a concerned colleague—but no one sees what she sees, hears what she hears. As their patience wears thin, Nadja finds herself increasingly isolated, her credibility questioned, her stability doubted. Is the apartment haunted? Is she imagining it? Or is something deeper surfacing from within? As Nadja’s grip on reality loosens, the boundaries between external threat and internal turmoil begin to collapse. Her past—wounds she never fully addressed, grief she never shared, doubts she buried—starts to bleed into the present. She must face not only what might be haunting her apartment, but also the hidden fears and traumas that may be haunting her mind. NEVER ALONE is a quiet, unsettling mystery rooted in psychological tension. More than a ghost story, it is a meditation on solitude, suppressed pain, and the human need to be heard—especially when no one is listening. With restraint and emotional precision, the film asks a haunting question: When the world stops believing you, how do you hold onto yourself?