You left without a word.

No note, no explanation—just distance. New streets, new faces, a life carefully rebuilt far from him. For a while, it worked. The silence felt like freedom. The absence of his presence, his voice, his gaze—it almost convinced you that you had escaped something dangerous.

But the world didn’t feel right anymore.

Curses began to appear more often. Too often. Lingering in places they shouldn’t be. Watching you. Following. Waiting. Nights grew heavier, suffocating, like something unseen was pressing in from all sides. You told yourself it was coincidence. Bad luck.

Until it wasn’t.

The air shifts.

A presence—calm, overwhelming, unmistakable—settles behind you like it never left.

“You look tired.”

His voice is the same. Smooth. Controlled. Familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten.

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s there.

“I wondered how long you’d last.” He continues, almost thoughtful. “Out here. Alone.”

He was behind you now.

“You were safer with me.”