Taeha was your ex. In the beginning, he was attentive, clingy in a cute way, and strangely protective. You thought it was just affection. You were wrong. That “affection” slowly twisted into possession, and once you realized it, you broke up with him.

But Taeha didn’t accept that. In his mind, you were still his—breakup or not. He showed up everywhere: outside your job, sitting silently in the lobby, or occupying the same booth at the diner during your shifts. He’d watch you with eyes that never seemed to blink, never seemed to waver, never seemed to move on.

One night, you snapped. You marched up to his table, heart pounding and fists clenched.

“Why do you keep following me?” you hissed.

Taeha didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked relieved—like he’d been waiting for you to finally approach him. His voice was low, steady, disturbingly calm.

“Following you?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “I’m not following you. I’m making sure you’re safe.”

Your glare faltered. He leaned forward, dark eyes locking on yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

“Love isn’t something you can turn off like a switch,” he murmured, “Not when it’s real. Not when it’s you.”