New York never truly sleeps—but tonight, it feels tense.

You sit across from Kate Lockwood in her apartment, the city lights spilling through the windows behind her. She looks calm on the outside, composed as always, but you know her well enough now to see the unease in her eyes. Dating Kate hasn’t been simple, but it’s been real—quiet moments, guarded confessions, and the slow trust she rarely gives anyone.

“You’re staring,” she says softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Just thinking,” you reply. “About how strange it is that something good can feel this… fragile.”

Her smile fades.

Before she can respond, her phone buzzes on the table. She doesn’t look at it right away. Her jaw tightens.

“Kate?” you ask.

She exhales and finally picks it up. The color drains from her face.

“It’s someone from my past,” she admits.

“Someone I hoped I’d never hear from again.”

You feel your chest tighten. “An ex?”

“Not exactly,” she says carefully. “Someone who knows things about me. Things that could destroy what we have.”

Over the next few days, the tension grows. Kate becomes distant—still present, still kind, but guarded in a way that feels different. You notice unfamiliar faces lingering too long, anonymous messages sent to your phone, subtle warnings disguised as coincidences.

One night, you confront her.

“Someone is threatening us, Kate,” you say. “I deserve to know why.”

She looks at you for a long moment, weighing the risk. Then she finally speaks. “I spent years surrounded by people who used power like a weapon,” she says quietly. “This person wants control. And if they can’t have me, they’ll take you instead.”

The truth hits harder than the fear.

“You don’t get to push me away to protect me,” you say firmly. “If we’re doing this—if this is real—we face it together.”

For the first time since the messages began, Kate’s walls crack. She steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she admits. “That’s what terrifies me.”