The phone call left Emma shaken. The chill in Ethan's voice, the subtle menace behind his words—it was as if the veil had finally lifted, revealing the dangerous depths of his obsession.
She spent the rest of the evening triple-checking her locks, pulling her curtains shut, and jumping at every sound. Despite the reassurances from the police, she couldn't shake the feeling that Ethan was closer than she realized.
By midnight, sleep felt impossible. She sat at her kitchen table with a cup of tea, her laptop open as she searched for security systems. Cameras, motion detectors, alarm systems—her browser was flooded with options.
"You're not going to scare me out of my own home," she muttered under her breath, her resolve hardening.
---
Ethan, meanwhile, was pacing his apartment, his thoughts spiraling.
Emma's rejection replayed in his mind like a broken record. The words stung, but what hurt more was the way she didn't understand.
"She's scared," he whispered to himself, convincing himself of his narrative. "That's all it is. She's afraid of her feelings."
He walked over to a corkboard on his wall, covered in photos of Emma—pictures he'd taken without her knowledge. Some were from the coffee shop, others from her walks around the neighborhood. In each one, she looked perfect, radiant, even when she didn't know anyone was watching.
Ethan's eyes landed on a photo he'd taken a week ago: Emma standing in front of her apartment building, keys in hand.
"She needs to know I'm serious," he muttered, reaching for his jacket.
---
Emma was startled by a loud knock at her door. Her heart jumped into her throat as she stared at the clock. It was nearly 1 a.m.
She froze, the steaming cup of tea in her hands shaking slightly.
Another knock came, louder this time.
"Who is it?" she called, trying to keep her voice steady.
There was no answer.
Her mind raced. It could've been a neighbor, or maybe a delivery mix-up. But deep down, she knew.
She crept toward the door, peering through the peephole.
Ethan stood on the other side, his face partially obscured by the dim hallway light.
"Ethan?" she said, her voice trembling.
"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice calm, almost pleading. "Please, Emma."
"Go away," she said firmly, stepping back from the door.
"You're not safe," Ethan said, his voice rising slightly. "People don't understand you like I do. I can protect you."
Her blood ran cold.
"I'm calling the police," she warned.
There was silence, followed by the sound of Ethan's footsteps retreating down the hall.
Emma waited, her phone in hand, until she was sure he was gone. Only then did she call 911.
---
By the time the police arrived, Ethan was nowhere to be found.
Officer Ramirez stood in Emma's apartment, his expression grim. "This is escalating quickly," he said, making notes in his pad. "We'll patrol the area tonight and add this to the report. Did he make any threats?"
Emma shook her head. "Not directly, but he said things that... didn't feel right. He said he could protect me, like I was in danger."
Ramirez nodded. "I'll expedite the process for a restraining order. In the meantime, do you have somewhere else you can stay?"
Emma hesitated. "I... I don't want to leave my home."
"I understand," Ramirez said. "But until we can ensure your safety, it's something to consider. At the very least, install some additional security measures."
Emma nodded numbly, her mind racing.
---
Ethan sat in his car a few blocks away, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.
"She's scared," he told himself again. "She doesn't trust anyone. That's why she called the police."
He stared out the window at the dark, empty street, his mind filled with plans. He wouldn't give up—not now, not when he was so close to showing her how much he cared.
"She'll see," he murmured. "I just have to make her see."