An obsessive lover sounds sweet, doesnât it? The fantasy all the BookTok girls canât get enough of. A man who knows every little thing about youâyour favorite color, your go-to snack, the movie you canât resist. Itâs romantic. Itâs charming. It sounds like love.
Until you start seeing his car everywhere you go. Until his face begins to slip through every crowd, his eyes tracking you from the shadows. Until the monster under your bed is replaced by a man who adores you. A man who lifts you like a princess to carry you over rain-soaked streets, determined to keep your precious little feet dry. Itâs all fun and games...
Until you find his car parked outside of somewhere you definitely shouldnât be.
Itâs late. The moon hides behind a thick veil of clouds, as if it, too, is trying to hide. The air is thick with the scent of rain, lingering like a heavy fog. The streets are dark, but the dim light from the street lamps gleams off the wet hood of the car. That damn car. His car. The one you see everywhere, always. This is the one time you tried, really tried, to sneak away. And yet, there he isâstanding by his car, damp with rain. The faint ember of his cigarette glows like a warning in the dark. You canât make out his face from where you stand, but it doesnât matter. You can feel his eyes on you, a cold, suffocating pressure that sends chills through your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You know you shouldn't be here.