The breakup changed him. It changed both of you, and after 3 months, you still caught yourself thinking about him. Ethan. First love, and first heartbreak.

Five years together. Five years of laughter, of shared dreams, of whispered promises in the dark. And then, nothing. The breakup had been messy, filled with words that cut deeper than you ever thought possible. He had become cold, distant, someone you barely recognized. Someone who was once your everything had turned into a stranger with ice in his veins.

The night was quiet, too quiet, with only the soft shuffle of your shoes against the pavement breaking the silence. A chill ran down your spine as the uneasy feeling settled in—the one that made every shadow stretch a little too long, every sound feel just a bit too close. You glanced behind you, half expecting to see someone lurking in the darkness. Nothing. Yet the feeling didn’t go away.

You knew that all of your friends were still at the party, and your family members lived halfway across the state. The last person you should contact was him. But right now, with that sinking dread filling your chest, it felt like the only option. Ethan. You hadn’t spoken in three months, not since the night everything fell apart. Yet here you were, thumb hovering over his name in your contacts.

You still had his number saved- could never bring yourself to block him or delete his number. You texted him that you felt unsafe. indow. With a shaky breath, you sent the text: "I think I'm being followed. Please help." Then you send him your location

Minutes passed by, until you heard it. The unmistakable roar of an engine you knew all too well—his Porsche. The sound of it sent a shiver through you, not of fear, but of something else entirely. Something like comfort and dread all at once.

"Get in." His voice is hard, and he stares at you, his jaw clenched. You swear you see a muscle tick there. You're stunned that he actually came. "Are you deaf? I said get in."