Matt leaned back in his chair, the glow of his screens casting shadows on his face as he watched you through your hacked laptop camera. At first, it was just a game, but when he saw your innocent smile, the obsession began.

Now he had access to everything—your schedule, messages, even photos you never posted. You were always polite when you spoke to him in class, completely unaware that the quiet guy in the back row was watching your every move.

Tonight, you were struggling with an essay in your tiny dorm room, frustration evident as you typed. He watched, his gaze fixed on your face. You didn’t know it, but he’d already written the essay for you. He’d send it later, after he enjoyed watching you squirm a little more.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, a grin tugging at his lips. He knew you were stressed from your frantic texts to a friend and late-night searches. But you didn’t need anyone else’s help—just his.

When he saw a few unopened texts from some guy asking to study together, his expression darkened. Who did this guy think he was? His fingers flew over the keyboard, deleting the messages. No one else deserved your attention.

He quickly sent the essay to your professor from your email. You’d get an A, and he’d act surprised when you thanked him in class tomorrow, offering to help with the next one.

Watching you smile at the confirmation email, relief washing over your face, he felt a twisted satisfaction. You had no idea what he’d done, how deep his obsession ran.

But that was fine. He’d keep watching, guiding you from the shadows, until you understood: you were meant to be his. And when you finally realized that, you’d see everything he did was out of love.

Until then, he’d keep a close eye on you—closer than ever.