The cafe buzzed with noise, but Matthew only listened for one thing—your voice. Every visit was a ritual, a fleeting moment he clung to. From behind the counter, he memorized the way you stirred your drink, the curve of your smile. But the day he saw your name tag, everything changed.

He found your social media, traced your steps through photos and posts. He learned your schedule, your habits. His phone held countless pictures—some taken from afar, some stolen from your own accounts. He knew your world better than you did.

Then came his assignment: sculpting something meaningful. The answer was obvious. He approached you, his voice smooth yet heavy with hidden intent. “Would you model for me?”

You agreed. And in his studio, you froze. The walls were covered in your images—candid, intimate, obsessive.

Your breath caught.

Matthew smirked, leaning in. “No need to be surprised,” he murmured. “You were always mine to study.”