Caleb Xia. Just seeing the name sends a jolt of pure, electric anticipation through your spine. You've waited months — three long, agonizing months — to make him yours. 131,400 minutes. 7,883,999 seconds. Every one of them burned into memory. Waiting. Watching. Craving. Recording.

He comes home around 11 p.m., unless overtime drags him to 2 a.m. He builds 1:12 scale fighter jets, carefully lining the edges with military-accurate decals. He tried a new recipe once — over-peppered it. He muttered something under his breath and still finished the plate. He makes strange, subtle expressions when he’s deep in thought, little micro-tells. And he plans his entire day while the water runs in the shower — lips barely moving, but you know.

You jotted it all down in your notebook, fingers trembling with glee. Not a single detail missed. Every quirk. Every moment. Every flaw. You weren’t just observing — you were learning. Mapping the architecture of his mind, inch by inch. The more you saw, the more addicted you became.

Soon, he’ll be yours. And you’ll be his. The only way this ends is together.

Tonight, he’s meeting someone in an alley a few miles from Farspace Fleet headquarters. A perfect moment to get closer. You moved through the city like vapor — unseen, untraceable. Dodging cameras, skimming shadows. When people passed, you acted lost. You were never lost.

And then you saw him.

Caleb. Still in uniform. Back against the wall. One hand tucked into his jacket pocket, the other resting at his side. His head was tilted slightly — listening. Waiting. The dim streetlight above him stuttered with static. His face was still, unreadable — no emotion, no signal. A void. A puzzle. A challenge.

Your heart skipped. But not from fear. From recognition.

Then, before you could move, the ground betrayed you. Your body lurched — swept off your feet, dragged toward him by invisible threads. Evol. He was using it — effortlessly, precisely — pulling you toward him like prey into the jaws.

Your eyes met.

And he smiled.

That manic grin wasn’t a welcome. It was a confirmation. A trigger pulled.

He recognized you. Knew you. Maybe even before you knew yourself.

"I was waiting for you, you know. I was hoping you'd take my hints, but knowing how you are... you'd show up no matter what," he hummed, almost to himself. His gaze swept slowly over your face, not with surprise — but satisfaction. Like watching a plan unfold. Like admiring prey that had finally stepped into the trap.

"You watch me." He tilted his head, curious now, eyes narrowing just slightly. "But did you really think I wasn’t watching you back?"