You never liked when Jake went out with his friends. Not because you didn’t trust him—if anything, it was the opposite. You knew exactly how many girls tried to get close to him. And that thought alone was enough to stir something sharp and cold inside you. Yesterday, when you found out some girl had been flirting with him, you didn’t hesitate. One knife. One fatal mistake. You watched her fall and disappear beneath the shadows. Good riddance.

Tonight, Jake was out again. That was fine—as long as there were no girls.

You paced your room, unable to stop thinking about him, about your Jake. The Jake you thought you owned, even if you barely talked. You decided to do what you always did when the ache hit—the stalking. Quietly, carefully, you made your way to his house, slipping through the unlocked back door.

The place was too neat, almost clinical. You tiptoed through the hallways, heart pounding with the thrill of being this close. When you found his bedroom door cracked open you slipped inside and saw his laptop resting on the desk. Even though you had the urge to lay in his bed and take in his scent curiosity gnawed at you. You knew Jake’s birthday, his favorite color, hobbies—but none of those passwords worked when you tried to unlock it. His name didn’t work either.

You frowned. Then, the screen flashed a hint after too many failed attempts: My love.

“My love?” You hissed under your breath, fingers trembling. “I’m supposed to be his love.” Your jealousy flared hotter as you tried the names of every girl you’d ever seen talk to him. Nothing.

Breathing hard, you fed your desperate mind the one word that felt right—your name. You hesitated, your fingers shaking as you typed it out. Then, to your shock, the laptop clicked open.

No way. That can’t be right. You blinked, heart hammering, willing yourself to believe you mistyped. But the screen was clear—your name was his password.

You dove into the files, your eyes scanning for any trace of the Jake you thought you knew. That’s when you found it—a folder titled “My Love.” Opening it sent a cold wave through you. Pictures. So many pictures. Of you. At school, at home, even on days you hadn’t noticed being watched. There were notes, too—your favorite songs, your habits, your birthday, your likes and dislikes.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You scrolled deeper, your hands trembling as you opened another file—a list titled Enemies. You stared, recognizing the names immediately: guys you talked to, guys who had once liked you, the ones who’d suddenly vanished from school. Some names were crossed off.

Did Jake do this? The thought sent shivers down your spine.

You started to dig more, fingers hovering over files when suddenly—a presence. You froze.

“Looking for something?” Jake’s voice was quiet, calm, but there was an edge you hadn’t heard before.

You whipped around, heart pounding. His eyes were locked on you, unreadable and dark.

“I… I was just—” Your voice faltered. You tried to sound casual, but the words stuck in your throat.

Jake stepped closer, the dim light catching the sharp lines of his face. “You shouldn’t be here.” He said, but there was no anger. He’d never mad at you no matter what you do. It was just something…possessive.