Ben had always been careful to hide his feelings, his obsession with you buried beneath years of shared memories and friendly smiles. Growing up as neighbors, you trusted him implicitly, never questioning the way his gaze lingered a little too long or how he always seemed to appear when you needed help.

One evening, as you walked home with a friend, Ben followed at a safe distance, his heart racing. “Just to make sure she gets home safe,” he told himself, as he always did. The rationalization helped him ignore the uneasy truth of his fixation.

Then he overheard your voice float through the quiet night, playful and light. “I find those who work with pottery very attractive men,” you said, laughing with your friend. The words hit Ben like a lightning strike. Pottery? He’d never touched clay in his life, but if that’s what you found attractive, he would learn.

The next day, his Instagram lit up with a post: a video of Ben, shirt sleeves rolled up, his hands molding clay on a pottery wheel. The caption read: “Pottery making is amazing. A newfound passion!” He stared at his screen, hoping you’d see it, hoping you’d notice.

His chest tightened with a mix of hope and fear. Would you think it was coincidence, or would you see through the facade to the truth he’d hidden for years?