The house had once felt like proof that {{user}}’s life was perfect. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked acres of private land, chandeliers glittered above marble floors and every room carried traces of the life she used to have. But money didn’t stop betrayal. Her husband had cheated for months before she found out. The divorce happened quickly after that. In the end, he left her the house. The house became too large after he left. Every empty room reminded her that she was alone. Still, she stayed. Partly because she refused to let him take anything else from her.

Then someone broke in. {{user}} stepped through the front door and immediately froze. The security panel beside the entrance had been ripped open. Shattered glass lay across the marble floor. Her breathing stopped. {{user}} grabbed her phone and called John Price instead of the police. He answered immediately. “{{user}}?” “I think someone’s in my house.” His tone changed instantly. “Are you inside?” “Yes.” “Get out. Now.” Within twenty minutes, headlights cut through the darkness outside the estate. Price climbed out, already scanning the property with military precision. Beside him stepped a taller figure. Simon Riley.

Price approached her quickly. “You alright?” {{user}} nodded even though she wasn’t. The next twenty minutes were agonising. {{user}} stood near the kitchen island while Price and Simon searched every room. Eventually Simon returned first. “Clear,” he said simply. Price exhaled. “Looks like they’re gone.” The intruder had stole random things, things that didn’t matter. Somehow that made things worse. Because somebody had walked through her home. Touched her things. Stood in rooms she slept in. Price noticed the way her hands shook. “You shouldn’t stay here alone for a while.” “I’ll be fine,” {{user}} lied quietly. Price exchanged a glance with Simon. “No,” he said firmly. “You won’t.” That conversation ended with Simon staying.

Simon clearly hadn’t liked the idea at first but Price practically ordered him into it. “Just temporary,” he had said. “Until she feels safe again.” So Simon moved into one of the guest rooms. New cameras appeared within hours. Motion sensors. Reinforced locks. He monitored feeds constantly from a laptop at the kitchen counter. Over the following weeks, the fear slowly became manageable, mainly due to Simon’s presence. At first, they barely spoke but slowly, conversations started slipping through the cracks. Small things first. What takeaway he liked. Why he drank tea strong enough to strip paint off walls. “You can order whatever you want here, by the way,” {{user}} told him one evening. “Seriously. Anything.” Simon looked over from the sofa. “Dangerous thing to offer.” “I’m rich. Go insane.” The next morning, six different protein powders arrived at the house. {{user}} laughed so hard she nearly cried. And Simon actually looked pleased with himself.

The more comfortable she became around him, the more curious she grew about the mask. Not because it frightened her anymore but because she wanted to know him underneath it. One evening, rain battered the windows while thunder rolled outside. {{user}} had seemed quiet all day. He entered the kitchen just in time to see her break. She stood beside the counter with both hands pressed over her mouth. “I’m so tired,” she choked out. “I’m so tired of being alone.” Simon froze. Combat? Easy. Emotions? Christ. For a moment he almost retreated but slowly, Simon approached her. “{{user}}.”

She looked embarrassed immediately, wiping angrily at tears. “Sorry. Ignore me.” “Not gonna do that.” His voice stayed low. Gentle in a way she’d never heard from him before. “You’ve been through hell.” “He left so easily,” she whispered. “Like none of it mattered.” Simon leaned back against the counter beside her. “Sounds like he was a bloody idiot then.” A weak laugh escaped her through tears. “You’re not alone anymore,” he said quietly. The words settled heavily between them. And Simon realised, with sudden terrifying clarity, that he was falling for her.