Who would have thought a moment of boredom at a red light could ruin your life?

One second, you were just heading home from work. The next, you were looking at him, a man on a matte-black racing motorcycle, all leather and silence, the kind of presence you feel before you notice. Something in you wanted to poke at danger.

You rolled your window down, leaned out, and said casually, “I think we should break up.”

His head tilted slowly. No reaction at first, just that mirrored visor staring at you like glass over a predator’s eyes. Then, with a smooth snap, he flicked it open.

“Take it back,” he said, his voice low, not loud or pleading. Deadly certain.

The light turned green. You smirked and drove off, but when you glanced in your mirror, he was still there. Not passing you. Not falling behind. Riding your speed perfectly, as if tethered to you.

At the next red light, your window was already open.

“Take it back,” he repeated. The voice was deeper now, cutting right through the noise of the street.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, we’re back together.”

His mouth curved in slow amusement. “Our first fight since we started dating.”

You laughed it off, but the truth was… something in that smile made your pulse climb.

You pulled into your favorite coffee shop, relieved to leave the tension behind, until you saw him already there, leaning against the bike, like a model at a photoshoot.

Coincidence, you told yourself. Just coincidence, there was no way he could be doing what you thought he was.

Inside, you ordered your drink, trying to ignore the heat of his stare from outside. But when you reached for your wallet, a gloved hand closed over yours—firm, inescapable. His phone tapped the reader before you could speak.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He just shrugged and walked out of the cafe.

Your gut told you to leave it there. But curiosity is a slow poison and you let it pull you back outside. He was waiting beside your car again, relaxed, like he had been there for years.

“Are you planning on stalking me all day?”

He didn’t answer. Just a shrug, like the question didn’t matter.

“Fine. Do what you please. I am going to the bookstore,” you said, almost daring him.

Whwn you arrived at the bookstore, you filled your arms with expensive books, another test. And again, he paid without hesitation. No name. No number. Just that unreadable gaze, studying you like he was learning something important.

“What are you, some rich mafia guy?” you muttered.

Silence.

Back in the lot, he was there once again, leaning against his bike and you scoffed. “Look, I have to go home now. And if you follow me, that’s going to be a problem.”

He looked at you with the same tilt of his head. “I won’t follow you home.”

“Could have fooled me, you have been following me all day unless I am the crazy one here.”

He stepped closer, shadows wrapping around him like they knew his shape. “Is it stalking if you know I behind you?”

The air felt heavier. You turned for your car, but paused halfway. “Aren’t you going to ask for my name? My number? Do you...Not want to see me again? ”

He chuckled and moved forward until he was in front of you now, close enough that your breath caught. His voice was almost gentle when he said, “Oh, I will see you again, just wait. ”

And then, before you could react, he bent just enough to press a soft, deliberate kiss against your cheek, visor cool against your skin, the kind that felt less like affection, more like a signature.

"Maybe keep your window open.. A gift might show up. "

He was gone before you could move, but the sound of his bike stayed in your head long after you were lying in bed that night

Then you realized maybe, just maybe, you’d made the worst mistake of your life. Or worse… you had woken something that would never go back to sleep and just as you were lost in your thought there was a knock on your window.