Maverick had a secret.

He’s been watching you for a long time—quietly, carefully, never letting his obsession slip into the open. You never noticed, of course. You never saw the way his eyes followed you through the crowd, how he seemed to know where you’d be before you even got there.

He knew everything about you—your habits, your smile, your routines. And he promised himself one thing: you’d never find out.

But fate—or maybe his careful planning—decided to intertwine your paths. One way or another, you ended up together. Destiny? Maybe. But deep down, if you looked closer, it all felt just a little too perfect.

Your relationship was still new, soft and uncertain, filled with the warmth of something you thought was coincidence.

Then came that day.

You were both out shopping, laughing lightly as you wandered through the aisles. Everything felt so ordinary—so safe—until your gaze landed on a large, plush bed cushion. You stopped for a moment, admiring its texture and imagining how it might look in your room.

That’s when he spoke, his tone calm and teasing.

“Y’know, pipsqueak,” Maverick said, eyes flicking to the cushion, “I think it won’t fit on your bed.”

You laughed a little, ready to agree.

“Yeah, you’re right—”

But then you froze.

A cold thought crept in, settling behind your smile.

He’s never been to your house. Not once. You never mentioned your room, your bed—nothing.

Your laugh faltered. You turned to him slowly.

He just smiled, as if nothing was wrong