悪役令嬢と流星の約束〜婚約破棄と契約結婚で愛と運命を逆転させる

The hum of the supermarket lights buzzed softly above me as I pushed my cart down the aisle, pretending to care about which brand of pasta sauce was on sale. In truth, I was too tired to think. My shift at the garage had run late again, and all I wanted was food, a hot shower, and silence.

The city outside still smelled like rain and gasoline, and my sneakers squeaked faintly on the white tiles as I stopped to grab a jar from the shelf. I twisted the label between my fingers, half-listening to the faint music playing through the speakers. Something old. Sinatra, maybe.

It was peaceful here — the kind of peace that never lasted long in my life.

Then I felt it.

That strange sensation of being watched.

It wasn’t the casual kind — not the fleeting glance from a stranger or the curious stare from an old woman. This felt heavier. Intentional. Like someone’s gaze was tracing every inch of me, memorizing, assessing.

I froze for a second, pretending to read the ingredients on the label, but my pulse betrayed me, pounding faster with each second.

Calm down, Sienna, I told myself. You’ve got pepper spray. You’ve handled worse.

Still, I couldn’t shake it.

Slowly, I turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of the aisle behind me.

At first, I saw nothing — just rows of neatly stacked boxes and a couple arguing about cereal. Then my gaze slid to the far end, where a tall man in a dark coat stood by the wine section. He wasn’t shopping. He wasn’t even moving.

He was looking straight at me.

The way his eyes locked onto mine — steady, unblinking — sent a chill down my spine. He didn’t even try to hide it.

I dropped my eyes immediately, shoving the jar into my cart. Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe he was just another man who didn’t understand that staring at women in public wasn’t a compliment.

But something about him… something didn’t feel right.

I turned into the next aisle, moving quicker now. My mind ran through all the possibilities — was he following me? A creep? A cop? A debt collector? I hadn’t done anything wrong lately, but my life had never exactly been free of trouble.

The sound of shoes behind me made my heart skip. Heavy, confident steps. Too steady to be coincidence.

I stopped in front of the canned goods, pretending to study them again, and caught his reflection in the metal surface of a freezer door.

He was closer now.

Sharp suit under that coat. Broad shoulders. The kind of face you didn’t forget — sculpted jaw, high cheekbones, dark stubble. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his eyes… God, his eyes were cold. Like smoke and shadow rolled into one.

And yet there was something else there, something that didn’t make sense. Recognition.

He looked at me as if he knew me.

I swallowed hard and turned to face him directly. “Do you need something?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, his gaze dragging over my face with the kind of intensity that made my skin prickle.

Then, in a voice low enough to make the air vibrate, he said, “It’s you.”

“What?”

His lips parted slightly, like he was trying to believe his own eyes. “Serena.”

I blinked. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate strides. “Don’t do that,” he murmured, his accent faint but rich — Italian, maybe. “Don’t lie to me. Not you.”

I took a step back, hitting the shelf behind me. The edge of a can pressed against my spine. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but—”

He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face, and my body locked up. His touch was light, almost reverent.

“Those eyes,” he whispered. “Those eyes don’t lie.”

Something flickered in his expression — a mix of pain and disbelief, like he was looking at a ghost.

My throat felt dry. “Mister, if you don’t step back, I’ll scream.”

He blinked, pulling his hand back, the spell breaking for a second. He looked down, jaw tightening, then straightened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Then stop following me.”

He nodded slowly but didn’t move. His eyes lingered on me like he was trying to memorize my face again. Then he spoke softly, more to himself than to me. “You really don’t remember.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled faintly, but it wasn’t a happy smile. More like a man smiling at his own madness. “Not yet,” he said, stepping aside, allowing me to pass. “But you will.”

Every instinct screamed at me to leave. I pushed the cart past him, pretending to stay calm, but my hands trembled on the handle. When I reached the self-checkout, I could still feel his gaze on my back, like a shadow that refused to let go.

The cashier asked if I wanted a bag. I didn’t answer. My mind was still spinning.

Serena.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

Outside, the city’s air felt colder. I loaded the groceries into my car, glancing around the lot. The night was quiet, too quiet. The man was nowhere in sight. Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe he was just some weirdo who liked staring at women who reminded him of his ex.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn’t shake the image of his eyes — the way they softened when he said that name.

Serena.

I started the engine and pulled out of the parking space, trying to focus on the road. Rain had started again, tapping softly against the windshield. I turned the radio on just to fill the silence, but every time I glanced in the rearview mirror, I felt it — that heavy, unseen presence.

I looked again.

And my heart nearly stopped.

A black car was following me.

Not too close, but close enough. Its headlights glowed faintly through the drizzle.

I took a turn down a smaller street, then another, pretending it was coincidence. The car followed each one. My stomach twisted.

This wasn’t coincidence.

I drove faster, my hands gripping the wheel tight enough to ache. The streets were half-empty — a bad sign in this part of the city. No one to see, no one to help if something went wrong.

Then the car’s headlights disappeared for a second. I exhaled shakily, thinking I’d lost it. But as I slowed down near my apartment building, a shadow moved in the alley beside me — tall, fast, deliberate.

I hit the brakes.

He stepped into the faint glow of the streetlight — the same man from the store. His coat was wet now, collar turned up against the rain. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

My chest tightened.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I shouted through the window.

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, watching me like he was fighting with himself. Then he took one slow step toward the car.

“Stay away!”

Still no reaction. His eyes burned through the glass, unreadable, dangerous. Then he said something I barely heard through the rain — two words that made my skin crawl.

“Come home.”

I pressed the gas pedal, swerving past him, the tires screeching on the wet pavement. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it echo in my ears.

I didn’t stop until I reached my building. I ran up the stairs with shaking hands, dropped my keys twice before unlocking the door, and slammed it shut behind me.

For a long moment, I just leaned against the door, breathing hard, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Who was he?

Why did he call me that name?

And why did his voice sound like something I should remember?

I sank onto the couch, rubbing my arms to stop the shaking. My groceries were still in the car, forgotten. I should’ve called the police, but something inside me hesitated. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure what to tell them.

A strange man followed me home, called me by another woman’s name, and looked at me like he’d found something he lost years ago?

It sounded insane even to me.

Outside, the rain grew heavier. I got up to close the curtains, but when I looked out the window — my breath caught.

A black car sat across the street, engine still running.

And though I couldn’t see him clearly through the glass, I knew.

He was still there. Watching. Waiting.