Rebelling.

Stanley

It’s been three days since that message.

Two days since someone called me "babyboy", said they liked me, claimed to be my “future wife,” and told me to dream about her.

At least I assumed it was a her, since she called herself my future wife.

I should’ve gone to the police. But what was I going to say?

“Hey, officer. Someone texted me and has been following me for days now, though I've never actually seen her."

Right. That’d go great. They’d either laugh, send me to therapy or call it a prank.

So I did nothing.

Well…not nothing. I learned to walk faster. Checked my phone too often. Started hearing weird sounds that might not be there, it sounded like the flick of a lighter. Over and over again. Some nights I hear it outside my window, but when I check, there’s no one there.

I didn’t even tell Julian the full story, just brushed him off when he asked how the other night went.

But this morning, I woke up with one thought:

Maybe if I get out of my own head for a bit…it’ll stop.

So when Julian brought up his party again, I said yes.

Just like that.

“Wait, what did you just say?” Julian blinked, mouth half full of fries.

“I said I’ll go to your stupid party,” I replied flatly, stabbing my mashed potatoes like they had personally insulted me.

Julian nearly flipped the lunch tray. “Who are you and what have you done with Stanley Moreau?"

“Don’t push it.”

“You’re coming to my party. Willingly. Did the earth sideways or what? This is big! We need to shop. You can’t wear one of your grandpa sweaters to this thing. Let’s go after class.”

“I didn’t agree to...”

“Nope! You gave me the opening and I’m taking it.” He grinned wide. “Prepare to be reborn, my socially challenged friend.”

I sighed, already regretting everything.

---

Three Hours Later

We were in one of the fanciest stores in the whole of Chicago, the kind of place that made my skin itch when I saw clothes that cost more than my rent for a year.

Julian was living his best life, holding up shirts against my chest and frowning like a disappointed housewife.

“Try this one. No...actually, this.” He tossed a black button-down over my shoulder. “You need something that says, ‘I’m introverted and mysterious.’ You know, play to your strengths.”

I rolled my eyes and walked toward the changing room. “This better be quick. I still have work later.”

Just as I was about to step inside, a voice came through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re closing the store early. The premises have been privately booked. Kindly make your way to the exits.”

I froze.

Julian turned to me, brows furrowing. “Seriously? How unprofessional. We just got here.”

People were already groaning angrily and heading for the door.

I sighed. “Guess it's fate then.”

We were just about to join them when a woman in all black stopped us near the entrance.

“Mr. Moreau?" she asked.

My chest tightened. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “The booking was made for you and your friend. Please, continue shopping.”

Julian and I stared at each other.

“What the actual…” he muttered. “Dude. Are you secretly royalty or something?”

I swallowed. “No. But…I think I know who did this.”

So I told him everything.

The messages.

The bar.

The stalking.

Julian didn’t blink for a full ten seconds.

“Bro.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re living the W*****d dream.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious! Do you know how many girls and boys dream of this stuff? You’ve got a crazy sugar mommy and you’re complaining?”

I didn’t even get to respond before my phone buzzed.

Unknown: What’s wrong, baby? You look annoyed.

I stared at the screen and my heart dropped.

“She’s watching me,” I whispered.

Julian leaned in. “Wait…right now??”

I looked around, eyes darting. “She has to be. There’s no way…”

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown: A little to the right, baby.

I turned right, heart thudding in my chest.

Unknown: A little more.

I did and then I saw it.

A tiny, black camera tucked between two shelves, blinking red.

I stared and it stared back.

Unknown: Hello, baby.

I walked up to it, arms crossed. “Did you really have to book the whole store?” I muttered.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown: No, no I didn’t.

So I bought it.

“What the…”

Me: Why??

Unknown: So you could shop peacefully, obviously.

Me: I didn’t ask for that.

Unknown: You didn’t have to. As your future wife, it’s my duty to know what you want before you do.

I blinked, jaw slack. “She’s actually insane.”

Julian leaned over. “Okay but like…in a sexy way.”

“Julian.”

“What?”

Another buzz.

Unknown: Try the black shirt, baby. It'll look good on you when I rip it off.

I nearly dropped my phone, not even trying to stop the blush that shot straight to my ears.

Julian peeked over my shoulder. “Holy shit. I’m not even involved and I feel violated.”

I glanced back at the camera, narrowing my eyes.

Me: You don’t even know me.

Unknown: Oh, baby. I know enough and I’m learning more every second.

Before I could even respond, another message came in.

Unknown: Also you’re not going to that party.

My fingers paused above the keyboard.

Me: Yes. I am.

There was no reply.

Until ten seconds later...

Unknown: Don’t test me, babyboy. Or I’ll ruin the whole party just to teach you who you now belong to.

I stared at the message, feeling my throat go dry.

Julian blinked next to me. “Uh…so? What now?”

I looked up at him, eyes narrowing. "I'm going. I don't want this lady thinking she can just walk in and control my life."

But that wasn't the only reason, deep down…a tiny, fucked-up part of me wanted to see what she'd actually do.