Emma tried to brush off her discomfort over the next few days. Life didn't stop for vague feelings of unease, and she had deadlines to meet, errands to run, and a life to live. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that someone was watching her.
It started with small things. The sensation of someone walking too closely behind her on the street, the faint shadow she thought she saw from the corner of her eye. Once, she could've sworn she heard her name spoken softly as she left the grocery store, but when she turned around, there was no one there.
By the time she arrived at the coffee shop one afternoon, her nerves were frayed. She ordered her usual cappuccino and sat by the window, staring blankly out at the street. The autumn air was crisp, and the leaves outside fluttered in a soft breeze. Normally, the scene would've calmed her. Today, it felt distant, as though she were watching someone else's life.
When the door chimed, she didn't bother to look up. It wasn't until she felt a presence nearby—too close to be coincidental—that she turned.
"Hi," Ethan said, standing at her table with that same awkward smile.
Her stomach dropped.
"Hi," she replied, forcing a polite tone. She didn't want to be rude, but something about the way he was standing—too casual, too familiar—put her on edge.
"I didn't expect to see you here," he said, though they both knew that wasn't true.
Emma managed a small, tight-lipped smile and glanced at her watch. "Yeah. It's a nice spot."
"Mind if I join you?"
She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to say no. But then she caught herself. Maybe she was being ridiculous. Maybe this was just a guy trying to be friendly, and she was overreacting. She didn't want to come off as rude or paranoid.
"Sure," she said, gesturing to the seat across from her.
Ethan sat down, his movements almost too eager. He placed his coffee on the table and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on her. "So, what are you reading?" he asked, nodding toward the book she had open in front of her.
Emma glanced down at the pages. She hadn't even realized she'd brought it with her. "Oh, just something I picked up the other day," she said, her tone casual. She closed the book, the title obscured by her hand.
"Nice," Ethan said, though it was clear he didn't care about the book. His gaze never left her face. "It's cool running into you like this. Feels like fate, doesn't it?"
Emma froze for a fraction of a second. The word fate sent a shiver down her spine, though she couldn't say why. She gave him a tight smile, shifting in her seat. "I guess."
There was a beat of silence, and Emma suddenly became hyperaware of the way he was sitting, the way his hands rested too casually on the table, as though he were trying too hard to seem relaxed. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but she didn't want to cause a scene.
"Well," she said, standing abruptly, "I should get going. I have some work to finish up."
Ethan's face fell, but he recovered quickly, standing as well. "Of course. Don't let me keep you." His tone was light, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and unreadable—that made her pulse quicken.
Emma nodded quickly, grabbing her things and heading for the door. She could feel his gaze on her as she left, the weight of it heavy against her back.
As she walked down the street, her breath came in short bursts. She told herself she was being ridiculous, that she was overreacting. But deep down, she knew this wasn't just paranoia.
Ethan watched her go, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He hadn't meant to scare her—he just wanted to talk, to get to know her. But she was so guarded, so distant. It was like she didn't see how perfect they could be together.
He sighed, stepping out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk. He wouldn't give up. Not yet.