I see him every evening at the edge of the park, leaning against the wrought-iron fence like he owns the shadows. His eyes catch mine, sharp and unreadable, and something inside me tightens.

Tonight, I walk closer, drawn by a force I don’t understand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t smile, but when he finally speaks, his voice is low, velvet and dangerous.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

“And yet I am,” I answer, my heartbeat loud in the quiet night.

He steps forward, close enough that I feel the heat radiating from him. I want to run, but I don’t. The danger is intoxicating, and I can’t look away.

“You like danger,” he murmurs, brushing a stray hair from my face. “Or maybe… you like me.”

I swallow hard, knowing I’m stepping into a darkness I can’t escape. And somehow, i want to.