Emma couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
At first, she dismissed it as paranoia. The man at the coffee shop—Ethan—seemed harmless enough. Awkward, maybe a little overeager, but not threatening. Still, there was something about the way he looked at her, the way his presence lingered just a little too long, that made her uneasy.
She tried to put it out of her mind as she walked home, the book she'd bought tucked under her arm. The crisp evening air bit at her cheeks, and the city lights blurred against the darkening sky. She told herself it was nothing. Coincidences happened. People bumped into each other all the time. But a small voice in the back of her mind wouldn't let it go.
By the time she reached her apartment, her unease had settled into a dull ache in her chest. She locked the door behind her, turning the deadbolt with a sharp click, and set the book down on the kitchen counter. Her apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet she usually found comforting. Tonight, it felt heavy, like it was pressing in on her.
Emma shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. She was overthinking. That's all it was. She had been busy lately, stressed with work, and her mind was playing tricks on her.
She poured herself a glass of water and sat by the window, staring out at the city below. People moved like ants on the sidewalks, their faces blurred by distance. Somewhere out there, Ethan was just another person going about his life. He probably hadn't given her a second thought.
But then why did she feel like she was being watched?
Emma glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the apartment. The shadows stretched long across the walls, the corners of the room dim despite the lamp she had turned on. She stood, crossing the room to check the lock on the door again, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. It was still secure.
She let out a shaky breath and leaned against the door, closing her eyes. This wasn't like her. She wasn't the type to get scared easily. She prided herself on her independence, her ability to handle things on her own. But this—this was different.
It wasn't just Ethan. It was the way he seemed to know where she'd be, the way he had appeared at the bookstore as if by chance. The way he looked at her, like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face.
Emma pushed herself off the door and moved to the living room, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. She scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hovering over her best friend's name. She almost called but stopped herself at the last second. What would she even say? That some guy she barely knew was making her uncomfortable? That she felt like she was being watched, even though she knew she wasn't?
It sounded ridiculous, even to her.
Instead, she set the phone down and picked up the book she'd bought, trying to lose herself in the words. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting back to Ethan.
Meanwhile, Ethan sat in his car across the street, the glow of a nearby street lamp casting shadows across his face. He wasn't sure why he had followed her home. He hadn't planned to, but when he saw her leave the bookstore, something in him wouldn't let her go.
Now, as he stared up at the lit window of her apartment, he felt a strange mix of guilt and satisfaction. He knew this wasn't right, that he was crossing a line, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing her like this, in her own world, gave him a sense of connection he couldn't explain.
She was so close, and yet still so far away.
Ethan leaned back in his seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He told himself he would leave soon, that this was a one-time thing. But deep down, he knew it wasn't. He couldn't stop now. Not when he was finally starting to understand her, to see the life she kept hidden from the world.
He just needed more time.