You were his biggest fan—but not the ordinary kind.

You knew every song, every chord he played on that black guitar. You tracked who talked to him, who flirted, who dared stand too close. Your bedroom wall was a shrine—photos, newspaper clippings, candid shots only you had managed to capture.

He was a star. A guitarist with millions of fans.

But what you didn’t know… was that he only had eyes for you.

One afternoon, as you lingered near the music building on campus, pretending to read, he walked straight up to you. Tall, flawless, with that devilish smirk.

“Here,” he said, handing you a glossy VIP ticket. “To my show. Bring a friend if you want.”

Your heart almost exploded. “Thank you!” you beamed.

That night, you dressed up just for him. Hair curled, red lips, your best dress. You spun in front of the mirror, admiring yourself and imagining his reaction.

What you didn’t know… was that he was watching.

On the other side of town, he sat in his darkened room, eyes locked on his iPad screen. The hidden camera he’d installed in your apartment weeks ago gave him the perfect view of you twirling.

He traced your image on the screen with a gentle finger, smiling.

“You look so pretty, my love,” he whispered, gaze burning through the glass.

Tonight, you thought you were the stalker.

But you were his obsession, too.