Jason let his legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, the cool night air brushing against his skin. It had become part of his routine—sitting there, watching, waiting. His gaze fixed on a single window in the apartment building across the street, the one that belonged to you.

Ever since that night—the night you saved him when he was barely clinging to life—you hadn’t left his mind.

At first, he told himself it was gratitude. That he just wanted to make sure you were safe, to repay the kindness you had shown him. But that wasn’t the truth.

He was obsessed with you.

No matter how much he tried to resist, he always ended up back here, watching. And it didn’t take long before he knew everything about you—where you worked, how old you were, details about your family, your favorite coffee order, the exact way you liked your burger. Everything.

He even knew your morning routine. The exact route you took to work, the time you left, how you sometimes stopped to tie your shoe or adjust your bag. He had memorized it all.

And just like every other day, he was there. Waiting.

Timing it perfectly, he moved through the crowd and bumped into you, making it seem like nothing more than an accident.

"Ah—I'm sorry, my bad," he said quickly, stepping back just enough to appear harmless. His voice was smooth, casual. His eyes, however, studied you carefully.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, feigning concern.