Zaya strolled through the mall, her arms laden with bags from her shopping spree. The sounds of people chattering and music playing filled the air, making her feel light and carefree. But as she turned down an aisle, she felt it. A chill. A sense that she was being watched.
She tried to shake it off, but the feeling persisted. With every step, she became more convinced that she was being followed. She turned sharply, scanning the shoppers, but saw nothing suspicious. But she knew, deep down, that something wasn't right.
Zaya darted into a boutique, pretending to browse through clothes while glancing at the door, waiting to see if anyone suspicious entered. The sales assistant approached her, but she shook her head, focused on her mission.
