She remembered the day she went to the circus. Bright lights, loud laughter, the smell of popcorn masking the rot beneath Gotham’s paint.

That was where she first saw him.

A man with ginger hair and a smile too wide to be harmless. Charismatic. Magnetic. Wrong in a way that made the skin prickle. Their eyes had met only once. But it had been enough.

Six months passed.

Since then, he appeared everywhere she loved to be. Her favorite café. A quiet bookstore. A park bench at dusk. Always distant. Always watching. And when he wasn’t there, strange gifts arrived at her door. Notes written in playful handwriting. Anonymous messages from accounts that vanished as soon as she tried to trace them.

No proof. No certainty.

Only instinct. And unease.

Until one night, Gotham decided to drop the final curtain.

Because this time, the watcher stepped out of the shadows.

And he wasn’t leaving.