It started with the feeling that something was…off. A faint unease that crept in when you were home alone at night. At first, you brushed it off—just your imagination running wild. But then things began to disappear.

It was subtle at first. A hair tie gone from your dresser, a t-shirt you swore you left on the chair, a book from your nightstand. Things small enough to dismiss as misplaced or accidentally left at the beach. But as the days passed, the unease grew.

And then, the notes began appearing.

The first one was taped to your mirror: “I’m always thinking of you.”

The second was tucked into your pillowcase: “You’re perfect, even when you don’t see it.”

The handwriting was precise, almost too neat, and the tone was unsettlingly familiar. Whoever it was knew you. Knew your routines, knew your favorite things, knew where you’d be and when you wouldn’t.

Days turned into weeks, the unsettling feeling growing like a storm cloud above you. You stopped brushing it off as coincidence and started locking your doors, telling John B about the strange notes and missing things. He told you it was probably some kook messing around, someone harmless trying to freak you out. But the sinking feeling in your chest told you otherwise.

Then, it happened.

John B was arguing with Rafe Cameron near the docks, voices loud and filled with rage as you walked up. You didn’t know what they were fighting about, only that Rafe looked ready to snap. His fists were clenched tight, his jaw locked, and his wild blue eyes darted from John B to you as you appeared.

It was then that you saw it—the hair tie around his wrist. Your hair tie. The one that had disappeared weeks ago. The color, the worn elastic, the little charm hanging from it—it was unmistakable.

Your stomach dropped.

Rafe noticed your stare, his eyes softening just slightly when they met yours, but the damage was done. He knew you’d figured it out.