You never meant to catch his attention. That was the cruelest part.

He noticed you months ago. not because you were loud, or reckless, or desperate to be seen. But because you weren’t. You walked through the city like you didn’t belong to it, eyes forward, shoulders tense, always choosing the long way home to avoid crowded streets. You had a habit of helping strangers and refusing protection, even when it was offered. Especially when it was offered by him.

He approached you once. Polite. Careful. Too careful. You declined him twice. Kindly. Firmly. After that, he stopped trying to be close. But he never stopped watching.

He learned your routines without meaning to. Learned what made you smile. Learned what made you flinch. Learned that you had no one powerful standing behind you and that made you dangerous to love. Because everything he touched bled.

So he stayed away. From your life. From your doorstep. From your future.

And yet… the world noticed you anyway.

You started seeing unfamiliar cars parked too often near your apartment. Conversations stopped when you entered rooms. Men you didn’t know began recognizing you.

You didn’t tell him. You didn’t ask for help. You never did.

What you didn’t know was that your name had started appearing in places it shouldn’t have, traded like leverage, whispered like a weakness. Someone decided you were the fastest way to get to him.

And he found out too late. Which brings you here.

The empty street. The dead end. The men who know your name. Your phone shaking in your hands. The call you swore you’d never make. You were never running from him. You were running toward the moment you would need him so badly you could no longer deny it.

And now you called him cause some men were following you. his voice answered. „you? Calling me?“