One month into the relationship
The night remained youthful, yet the dim lights cast an even deeper shadow over the streets of the aged building block, creating an atmosphere of gloom that surpassed what natural illumination could have achieved.
Following the autumn equinox, darkness descended earlier, urging the young woman to hasten her steps, determined to traverse the desolate park area swiftly.
The alleyway was flanked by two rows of towering trees, their silhouettes mirrored in the glimmering waters of the river. A second alley trailed the path the woman took, situated lower, at the riverbank level, running parallel to the river, illuminated by the same faint glow emanating from the lampposts.
On the furthest wooden bench, a pair of girls were engaged in unintelligible banter, their demeanor exuding sassiness. Both heads turned as Marie-Rose approached, their attention shifting to where she stood.
In the encompassing obscurity, the features of their faces remained elusive. Marie-Rose refrained from scrutinizing the two, yet their persistent glances at her were too compelling to go unnoticed.
Their voices slowly crescendoed, and Marie-Rose could discern the words uttered by the two young women:
"... indecipherable... She's taken her boyfriend, and she's not even beautiful... indecipherable..."
Their whispers momentarily struck her, but she swiftly dismissed the statement, convinced it couldn't possibly pertain to her.
"What an odd topic to gossip about," she mused in her mind.
No one had stolen her boyfriend. Needless to say, she hadn't taken anyone else's boyfriend either.
A curious topic they were discussing, but she couldn't afford to invest any more attention in their conversation. Distraction was a luxury she couldn't afford; she had to cross the street to reach the housing unit.
The cars hissed one after another incessantly. With poor visibility conditions and no driver willing to slow down just a dozen meters away from the significant crossroad, she was at risk of being struck by a vehicle at any moment.
Observing how both of them continued to trail her with their eyes even after she had moved beyond them, as they had done from a distance prior to her reaching them, a dark thought crossed her mind. Yet, she had to swiftly discard it as implausible.
No, it couldn't be, but still: What if there was some kind of misunderstanding? No, it was merely a coincidence. She just happened to pass them by and overheard them unintentionally. They couldn't have been talking about her.
Marie-Rose had to stand waiting at the pedestrian crossing like a hunter in the forest, searching for the right moment when no car was nearby. However, the vehicles showed no intention of stopping anytime soon.
"Any time today?" she wondered. She couldn't even allow herself to dwell on the strange remark, but a question inside her mind persisted, continually asking: whom did they refer to?...
Finally, the road was clear. The brakes of a slowing-down car emitted a screeching noise.
"Watch out!!!" Marie-Rose yelled at the driver as she narrowly avoided becoming a hit-and-run target.
One more second, and she would have been isekaied. Not that she would have regretted it.
***
The alley was bathed in moonlight, a full moon projecting a cold glow that reached her eyes through the trunks of the towering trees. The same alley, only days apart.
The scene was surreal, with the moon seeming to ascend from the river, partly concealed among the silhouettes of the trees, the entire area bathed in its peak luminosity.
Marie-Rose arrived by tram at the bridge, finding herself at the other end of the park area, traversing it. The sight of the expansive full moon hypnotized her that night.
A sudden feeling that someone was trailing her struck her in the navel area. She saw a figure standing among the trees, and a cold shiver went down her spine as if a serial killer awaited her there.
Marie-Rose quickened her pace, and then, as she neared the gym she used to attend, she encountered an acquaintance. In truth, he was a guy she only knew by sight, but seeing him brought her joy because, finally, she wasn't the only one on the street.
Coincidentally, she had recently visited his profile, but at the beginning of the academic year, she had perused the profiles of everyone in the group.
The smile he bestowed upon her was broad, as if he knew her from somewhere she found difficult to extract from her memory. He possibly knew her from the gym; she vaguely recalled having seen him there. As for the two girls on the bench, she had a feeling she had seen them in the same place.
The charm the boy exuded with his positive vibe was enough to brighten one's day. And he made her day: she wasn't alone on the street at night anymore.
At that very moment her friend called to ask where she was.
The meeting point was a no name restaurant downtown.
She had had an exhausting day, waking up at 6 in the morning and toiling until 6 in the evening—standing up on her feet the whole time. She was already extremely tired and sleepy, on top of it.
She was about to give up on attending the event when, at the last minute, she received a call from the friend who was celebrating her birthday.
***
Marie-Rose spent the rest of the evening drowned in sadness, staring blankly at the walls, gazing through the crowd, glancing towards the entrance as if it were a place where a miracle might happen at any moment. More specifically, the appearance of a familiar face that could rescue her, taking her out of this place—the one in which she wanted least to be tonight.
Anyone who could have whisked her away from this dance hall. A beloved face that was slow to make its entrance.
Her most fervent wish was to be somewhere else, far away from the feigned concern of her friends that only served as an impediment in doing what would have been right to do.
Somewhere where the one she wished to meet again could be present so that they sort things out.
But even if she started looking for him in all the places open at that hour, what were the odds of finding him?
In the few moments of lucidity, when she wasn't overcome by reverie, she observed the surroundings, trying to remember details for later, as if they would be necessary for writing a novel. Time passed slowly. She was too bored.
Then all of a sudden, she realized what had just happened. The one waiting in the tree area must have been her stalker. But why was he following her? What did he want? If he wanted to talk to her, why didn't he approach her until now? Why didn't he talk to her when he had the chance? She always had to be the one to initiate communication, and she had had enough already.
In the blink of an eye, everything seemed like a dream to her. She couldn't believe that this was happening, that this was real. That she has been stalked.
The shocks she had endured in the past three months had altered her perceptions to the point where her mind was shrouded in complete mist.
She had no inkling that her communication channels were being spied on until this very moment when everything became clear as daylight. All of a sudden, she connected all the dots.
He had searched for her two months earlier as well. A vague memory was lit in her head, with him waiting at a turnpike, next to a car, two guys accompanying him. She remembered seeing him there.
Now it hit her. He was not who she had thought he was. On the contrary, he was the enemy—the one who pulled the trigger, her traitor.
All he knew was to pursue her, never bothering to communicate like two grown-ups should.
Yet, for some strange reason everyone thought she was writing a love story about him. Everyone believed every plot she had devised to be related to him.
Everyone believed the funny scenarios to represent her beliefs or desires. He also did that. Oh, he was so vain. Thinking everything was about him.
She didn't plan to write a love story using him. He didn't deserve it. Judging by his behavior. No, he deserved to be drowned into oblivion and his name to be forgotten. He didn't deserve her to ever utter his name, but to completely erase it from her memory. Complete obliteration. Anonymous. No name, no soul.
It was still unclear whose boyfriend she had allegedly stolen.
And what was the problem with those gold-digging companies spying on her? Did they really think they could find something about her worthy of scandal? Well, she could actually scandalize them, just to pass the time until death gifted her another opportunity to return.
***
The next morning, over coffee, she inquired about the first one, the guy who escorted them to the dance hall. Due to her indifference towards the details—none of them had truly captured her interest—she mistakenly swapped their names. She was on the verge of questioning his sanity or the completeness of his mental tiles, but for some peculiar reason, she managed to resist the impulse.
Their response was quite amusing:
"Look up his social media profile and add him as a friend. We've learned not to play matchmakers among our circle; it didn't go well last time, and those people ended up being upset with us."
Marie-Rose barely registered their discussion about social media. She wasn't paying much attention to them; her mind was elsewhere, occupied with thoughts of someone specific, Jayden to be more specific, and she couldn't focus on their conversation.
What did social media have to do with her concerns? She wasn't discussing online platforms; instead, her thoughts were centered on what he had said.
Up until then, she had been a stranger to social media, showing no interest or activity. The boy she encountered there held no significance for her. Her primary intention was to inquire of Rita why the individual at the restaurant had been acting peculiarly the other day.
Soon, she became aware that she had confused their names.
In this way, she discovered that the person at the dancing hall was Rita's ex-boyfriend. He, too, proved to be quite peculiar. Not only was he younger than Rita, but he had become obsessed with her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.
In order to be with Rita, he had ended his previous relationship.
Certainly not Marie-Rose's cup of tea. The idea of ending one relationship just to jump into another didn't sit right with her. She feared the same fate could befall her—being discarded for someone else on a whim. That's why he was swiftly crossed off her list of potential interests.
Later on, she discovered that when the young man decided he desired something different in life, he, in turn, ended things with Rita. She had endured considerable heartache. Now, he sought her back, but she had moved on to a new relationship.
Certainly not the scenario Marie-Rose desired. She had no interest in being a buffer, a tool he employed to linger in Rita's vicinity, or a mere scapegoat in his relationship dramas.
What she yearned for was genuine love, a sentiment that had eluded her thus far, or so she believed.
In the end, her friend's experience had left her terrified. Marie-Rose found herself in a comparable situation—fragile and unsettling.
She could no longer place trust in the person who professed to like her; the fear lingered that he might replicate the actions of the individual who had hurt Rita.
Furthermore, the shadowy figure trailing her never bothered to articulate his intentions directly to her. A familiar turn of events, akin to Rita's ex—flirting one day, switching allegiance the next. Regardless.
She had a nagging feeling that she had encountered the profile of the second person before. That's why she decided to inspect it later, once she had returned home.
However, it turned out to be a mistake. It was utterly wrong to do so because, unbeknownst to her, an intrusive spy was clandestinely monitoring her online activities.
Soon after she satisfied her curiosity regarding Rita's awkward friend from the dance hall, the frustrated spy who hatched the plan to ruin her life dispatched him to tail her. It was the exact same guy.
Another psycho, deploying the same strategy as with her earlier follower in the shadows that night—the one who supposedly liked her. As soon as she accessed his profile, the stalking commenced.
Fortunately, she refrained from divulging the reason for her access to the latter. His assistance wouldn't have been welcomed anyway, and it was better that she didn't seek it.
However, on that night, she was still not fully aware of the situation and what would come in the future. She was merely cautious.
***
Before she returned home, which was located a couple of hours away, she decided to grab another coffee (it was around noon, she was that sleep-deprived). After arriving at the cafe and chatting for a while about relationships and jealousy, Rita gave her a suggestive look – as she was wont to do – and nodded toward the hospital.
She didn't know why, but she felt the need to apologize for some scenes on the phone the night before. There were no scandals; she was merely providing an explanation. And now, here she was, offering another explanation, this time to them.
She hadn't grasped the meaning of Rita's smile initially, but she soon realized the implications. This was the origin of all the subsequent allusions and insinuations.
Returning to Rita's mischievous smile, reminiscent of an evil Mona Lisa, Marie-Rose observed how she had gestured toward the hospital with a subtle nod of her head. For a brief moment, Marie-Rose wondered if Rita was alluding to her mental well-being, considering the shocks she had endured.
However, the only link Marie-Rose could temporarily connect between the hospital and Rita's comment was with two gentlemen from the gym—one brunette and the other with blue eyes.
The brunette gentleman had engaged in a conversation with a medical student at some point, leading her to believe that he might be a doctor.
Her other friend had also mentioned a doctor, and given the recent strange occurrences, these individuals came to her mind. The next instant, she realized it must have been her novel.
She attempted to explain the events at the gym, detailing how this man might have mistaken her friendliness for romantic interest even though she had never given him any attention.
She hadn't yet mastered the art of letting people believe what they wanted, allowing them to draw their own connections based on their misconceptions, biases, and preconceived notions.
She shared the story of the dark-haired man at the gym, and Rita's daughter responded triumphantly, "He probably already knows your name." Although she couldn't recall exactly what she had told them to receive such a response, with all the information she now had, it seemed more like an irony than a joke. Another stalker.
How ironic and embarrassing.