You thought it was just paranoia at first. The feeling of being watched when you walked home late. The stranger who always seemed to appear wherever you went. Small things—an extra car parked nearby, footsteps that stopped when you did—but enough to make your stomach churn.

Joe noticed before you even mentioned it.

“You’re tense. Who’s following you?”he said

You tried to brush it off. “It’s probably nothing.”

But he didn’t let it go.

“Nothing makes people this anxious. Not like this. I want names. Faces. Anything.”he said

The next day, he started tailing the person without you knowing. Discreet, careful, watching from shadows, taking notes. Every text you received, every suspicious glance you caught, Joe was already three steps ahead.

One evening, on your walk home, the figure appeared again, this time getting uncomfortably close. You froze.

Joe appeared beside you, calm, his hand brushing yours as if to anchor you.

“Move.”he said

The stranger hesitated, then tried to push past him. Joe’s gaze sharpened.

“I said move.”he said

The man froze again, sensing something dangerous in the quiet fury Joe didn’t need to voice. Finally, he backed off, retreating into the night.

Afterward, you walked home in silence. Safe. For now.

“You didn’t have to… put yourself in the middle like that.”you said

“I didn’t do it for me. I did it for you. Someone’s threatening you—someone thinks they can touch your life without consequence. Not while I’m around.”he said

His hand found yours, warm and steady.

And in that moment, you realized something you hadn’t before: the intensity, the focus, the obsession you’d heard so much about—it could be used for something real. Something protective.