You were curled up on your couch, a mug of tea warming your hands, when your phone buzzed. It was a message from Guinevere Beck.

"Hey… can you help me? I think someone’s following me."

Your heart skipped a beat. Beck wasn’t the type to panic easily—or at least, she didn’t usually let people see it. You quickly typed back: “Where are you? Are you safe?”

"I’m on the way to the bookstore, but I keep seeing the same guy around. He’s… just standing there, watching me. I don’t know what to do."

You grabbed your jacket and keys. By the time you got there, Beck was pacing outside, her eyes scanning the street nervously. She looked smaller somehow, vulnerable in the cool evening light, and you felt an instant rush of protectiveness.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” you said, keeping your voice calm but firm.

“I… I didn’t want to call anyone else. I thought maybe I could handle it myself,” she admitted, fidgeting with her bag strap.

You glanced down the street and spotted a man leaning against a lamppost, far enough to seem casual, but his gaze was locked on Beck. “There,” you said softly.

Her eyes widened. “Do you think he’s…?”

“Relax. We’ll walk together. Don’t make it obvious you see him,” you instructed. Beck nodded, gripping your arm lightly. Together, you moved down the street, taking winding routes to make it hard for him to follow.

Halfway to the café across the corner, Beck let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think I’d actually feel… safe walking with someone.”