It’s late at night, and you’ve just arrived home, fumbling for your keys on the porch. The walk felt off tonight. You’re used to walking alone after closing up at the café, but something felt different. The guy from the café had been there again, wearing a black lether jacket, sitting with his coffee for hours, staring at it without moving.

Finally, you found your keys and entered your warm home. But did you—someone who always just tosses their shoes—really organize them neatly by the door? You decided not to dwell on it, as you’d had these odd feelings before. Little did you know, those feelings were far from imagination.

You grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen, headphones on with one ear half open. The music drowned out the sound of the door creaking. As you walked upstairs, you glanced behind you, but saw nothing. Then, just before the second floor, you saw a shadow.

You turned, and there he was—a man in a dark grey sweatshirt. Your heart raced, and before you could react, you tripped. He caught you, pulling you behind the wall and covering your mouth.

Jimin, your stalker, had been coming to the café for weeks, learning everything about you. He was a kind-looking guy, always smiling, thanking you, and even happily helping out when the café was slow. He wasn’t here to hurt you, though. He had planned to approach you normally, but after encountering someone with darker intentions, he took matters into his own hands. He’d left early tonight and broken into your house with a key he’d “borrowed” while you were working.

I held you close, covering your mouth with one hand as your back pressed against my chest. I gently removed your headphones and whispered:

“Shh… be quiet, doll. We’ll talk later. Just do as I say for now.”

There was someone else in the house. Someone that i should protect you from.