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Chapter 11 – Everywhere You Turn
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2025-08-15 05:42:32Adrian woke the next morning with the uneasy weight of memory pressing against his ribs.
He’d dreamt of Evan—too vividly. The scent of cedarwood clung to him like it had soaked into his sheets. The apartment felt smaller now, more like a cage than a home. Every creak of the walls made him wonder if Evan was there again, standing silently, watching. By nine, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He decided to work from the café down the street, somewhere with people, noise, and witnesses. He showered, dressed quickly, and left without breakfast, needing the fresh air more than food. The café was half-full, filled with the low hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine. Adrian ordered a black coffee and set up his laptop in the corner. The normalcy was a balm—until he looked up. Evan was at the counter. It shouldn’t have been possible. Adrian hadn’t told anyone he was leaving. He hadn’t even followed his usual route here. But there Evan stood, dressed in a dark turtleneck and charcoal coat, casually leaning on the counter as though he’d been there for hours. Their eyes met. Evan smiled, slow and deliberate, like he’d been waiting for Adrian to notice. Adrian’s stomach twisted. He snapped his gaze back to the laptop, fingers moving aimlessly over the keys. A shadow fell across his table. “You always sit in corners,” Evan said softly. Adrian looked up sharply. “What are you doing here?” Evan pulled out the chair opposite him and sat without asking. “Having coffee.” “You followed me.” Evan tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Followed implies you didn’t want to be found.” “I don’t want to be found,” Adrian said, his voice low but firm. “That’s not true.” “It is true,” Adrian snapped, though the heat in his words only seemed to make Evan lean forward, studying him. “I think you want someone to see you,” Evan said, his tone softer now, as though peeling back layers. “Not just look at you. See you. And that’s what I do.” Adrian’s pulse jumped. “You don’t get to decide that.” “Don’t I?” Evan’s gaze lingered, searching, then he sat back. “You’re working too hard today. Let me walk you home later.” “I’m not going home." Evan smiled faintly. “We’ll see.” For the next hour, Evan didn’t leave. He sipped his coffee and read something on his phone, his presence impossible to ignore. Adrian tried to work, but his mind kept circling the same thought: He found me. Without trying, he found me. When Adrian finally packed up and left, he took the long route home, changing streets twice. No sign of Evan. Until he unlocked his apartment door. The air inside felt… wrong. Again. On his kitchen table sat a single, folded napkin. In neat handwriting, it read: You walk too quickly when you’re trying to lose someone. It gives you away. The handwriting was sharp, deliberate—Evan’s. Adrian’s breath caught. He turned, scanning the room, the hallway, even his balcony. No one. He called his friend Maya. “Hey, are you busy?" “Kind of,” she said. “Why?” Adrian hesitated. How could he explain this without sounding paranoid? “Just… wondered if you wanted to grab dinner later.” They met at a small Thai place a few blocks away. For an hour, Adrian almost relaxed. Maya’s sarcasm was grounding, her voice a reminder that the world wasn’t all shadows and strangers. But as they were leaving, Adrian froze. Across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost, was Evan. He wasn’t even hiding it. Maya noticed his sudden stillness. “What?” Adrian forced his voice to stay steady. “Nothing. Thought I saw someone I knew.” “Old flame?” she teased. He forced a weak smile. “Something like that.” They said goodbye at the corner, Maya oblivious to the way Adrian’s eyes kept flicking back to the lamppost—now empty. He walked home quickly, every step shadowed by the certainty that Evan was close. When he reached his building, he checked the hallway. Empty. The relief was short-lived. Inside his apartment, the bathroom mirror was fogged as though someone had taken a shower. On the glass, traced in a fingertip, was a single word: Soon. drian gripped the sink, his breath shallow. The fear should have been suffocating—but underneath it, tangled and dangerous, was something else. A pull. A thrill. Because part of him—just part—wanted to see what “soon” meant.
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Hidden Obsession Chapter 11 – Everywhere You Turn
Adrian woke the next morning with the uneasy weight of memory pressing against his ribs. He’d dreamt of Evan—too vividly. The scent of cedarwood clung to him like it had soaked into his sheets. The apartment felt smaller now, more like a cage than a home. Every creak of the walls made him wonder if Evan was there again, standing silently, watching. By nine, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He decided to work from the café down the street, somewhere with people, noise, and witnesses. He showered, dressed quickly, and left without breakfast, needing the fresh air more than food. The café was half-full, filled with the low hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine. Adrian ordered a black coffee and set up his laptop in the corner. The normalcy was a balm—until he looked up. Evan was at the counter. It shouldn’t have been possible. Adrian hadn’t told anyone he was leaving. He hadn’t even followed his usual route here. But there Evan stood, dressed in a dark turtleneck an
Hidden Obsession Chapter 10 – Inside Without Knocking
Adrian didn’t sleep that night. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the faint streetlight glow cutting pale shapes across his room. Every time he closed his eyes, Evan’s voice whispered in the darkness: You’ve been waiting for this. By morning, exhaustion had settled into his bones like lead, but there was no relief. His apartment felt different now. Not unsafe, exactly—just… permeable. Like the walls and locks didn’t mean much anymore. He made coffee and sat by the kitchen window, staring down at the street. Rain had given way to an overcast stillness, the kind that made the air heavy. He told himself he would forget it. That Evan was just a strange encounter, someone who got too close. People like that moved on quickly. He just had to wait him out. But waiting did nothing. By late afternoon, the air inside felt stifling. Adrian left his apartment for a walk, anything to keep from imagining footsteps outside his door. He took side streets and cut through the park, his hood up
Hidden Obsession Chapter 9 – The One Watching Me Has a Name
The rain had been relentless all afternoon, a soft but steady drumming against Adrian’s apartment windows. It should have been comforting — that kind of gray, cocooning weather that makes you want to curl up with a blanket and tea. But lately, comfort was a stranger to him. He sat on the couch, pretending to read a book he hadn’t turned a page in for half an hour. His mind was elsewhere, darting from thought to thought like a trapped bird. Every time the building’s pipes groaned, every time the wind rattled the glass, his muscles tensed. The light in the corner flickered again. Just once, but enough to twist the knife of paranoia deeper into his chest. He closed the book, rubbed at his temple. And then it came — that prickle. The unmistakable awareness of being seen. Not the casual glance of a passerby, but a steady, intent gaze that sank into your skin like heat from a fire. He swallowed, his eyes moving instinctively toward the window. There was no one there. He almost laughed
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Adrian had never realized how lonely silence could be until it became all he heard in his apartment. The hum of the fridge, the occasional car horn from the street below—these were supposed to be comforting signs of normalcy. But now, they sounded like background noise in a horror film, the quiet before something awful happened. He sat on the edge of his couch, his phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through contacts. He could call Riley—except she’d been unreachable for days. He could call the police—except what would he tell them? “A man I barely know keeps showing up in my life, giving me things, and I think he’s in my apartment sometimes.” They’d file it under romantic misunderstandings or overactive imagination. The truth was… no one had believed him so far. The night before, Adrian had shown the doorman the strange flowers that kept appearing on his doorstep—white roses, their stems cut at the exact same angle, the same number every time. The man had shrugged and said, “Maybe
Hidden Obsession Chapter 7 The Therapist Vanishes
Adrian sat on the edge of his bed, the sketchbook still open on his lap, pages fluttering slightly from the draft slipping in through the cracked window. His phone rested beside him, untouched for the past two hours. Notifications glowed on the screen—texts from Jace, a missed call, one voicemail—but he couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them. His attention was fixed on one name. Riley Morgan. His therapist. The one person who had been a constant since the spiral began. The only person Adrian had allowed into the rawest parts of his mind. He hadn’t messaged her in days. Not since the flower. Not since the voice. But now, after the sketchbook, the transcript, the video—after everything—he needed her. He opened the secure therapy app on his phone, fingers stiff and cold. Her name wasn’t in his contacts list. Weird. He tapped the support chat. "Unable to find contact." He tried her direct link. "Therapist no longer available." His chest tightened. He opened his email a
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Adrian didn’t remember walking home.One moment he was standing outside the café, the lighter still trembling in his hand, the cold air slicing through his sweater. The next, he was inside his apartment, door locked, the lights on in every room.He hadn’t used the lighter, but he hadn’t thrown it away either.It now sat on the kitchen counter like a silver threat.He stared at it for a long time, waiting for it to explain itself.How had he gotten it? How had Evan known to give it to him? More importantly—what did it mean that Evan knew his name and face?And why didn’t he feel more anger?He should be furious. Scared out of his mind. But beneath the fear, there was a subtle, uncomfortable warmth.Someone saw him.Not just in passing—not a glance or a gaze—but really saw him. Noticed details. Remembered things. Cared enough to follow him, to learn him. That fact sat in his chest like a thorn: dangerous, but undeniably real.He didn’t sleep.Again.He paced the apartment, checked the l
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