All Chapters of Proximity Without Permission : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Adrian didn’t sleep. Not because of fear, exactly. Fear was loud. Obvious. This was quieter than that — a persistent awareness that refused to settle no matter how still she lay. The city outside her window hummed softly, distant traffic bleeding into the dark. She stared at the ceiling, replaying conversations she hadn’t thought much of at the time. Words that felt harmless when spoken, but heavier now in memory. Elliot’s voice lingered most. Be careful with proximity. She turned onto her side, exhaling slowly. He hadn’t accused anyone. Hadn’t named names. That almost bothered her more. Elliot wasn’t careless with language. If he was choosing restraint, it meant he was still assembling something he wasn’t ready to show. That meant she was, too. Morning came without clarity. Adrian moved through her routine automatically — shower, coffee, tailored clothes chosen with practiced ease. Control was a habit now. Even unease folded itself neatly beneath it. By the time she reached

Adrian noticed it first in the smallest ways. The way conversations seemed to pause when she entered a room. Not stop — just hesitate. As if people were recalibrating, choosing their words more carefully than usual. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even discomfort. It was awareness. She didn’t mention it to anyone. There was nothing concrete to point to, and Adrian didn’t believe in reacting to instincts without structure. Still, she logged the feeling away, the same way she did everything else that mattered. For later. Her day unfolded as expected. Meetings stacked neatly into one another, decisions made quickly, efficiently. She was praised for her focus, her clarity. No one would have guessed that part of her attention was elsewhere, quietly scanning for inconsistencies. During a mid-morning briefing, Celeste slipped into the seat beside her without comment. Adrian registered the presence automatically — familiar, expected — then realized she hadn’t known Celeste would be there. “Y

Elliot noticed the car before he noticed the man. It was idling too long. Not illegally. Not suspicious enough to warrant attention on its own. Just… lingering. The kind of presence most people filtered out without thinking twice. Elliot didn’t. He slowed his pace slightly as he exited the building, phone pressed to his ear though the call had ended moments ago. Adrian had already left. That should have eased the tension sitting between his shoulders. It didn’t. The man leaned against the hood, posture loose, eyes hidden behind dark lenses. He wasn’t looking at Elliot. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular. He was waiting. Elliot felt it immediately — the instinctive tightening that came when something didn’t belong but hadn’t broken any rules yet. Their gazes met. Just for a second. That was all it took. The man didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away too quickly. Didn’t stare long enough to challenge him either. It was controlled. Measured. Like someone used to being observed

Adrian noticed the feeling before she noticed anything else. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t panic. It was awareness — the same instinct that told her when a meeting was about to turn, when a deal was about to sour, when someone across the table was withholding information. She felt it as she stepped out of her building. The air was ordinary. The street busy enough to feel anonymous. Nothing looked out of place. Still, something tightened low in her chest, a quiet insistence she couldn’t ignore. She slowed her steps without realizing it. Her phone was in her hand, keys threaded between her fingers, posture relaxed by habit. Years of navigating public spaces had taught her how to look unbothered even when she was anything but. She scanned reflections instead of faces — car windows, storefront glass, the dark surface of a parked SUV. Movement registered, but nothing lingered long enough to confirm her suspicion. You’re imagining it, she told herself. But the feeling didn’t fade. Adri

Adrian decided she was done entertaining unease. Not because it had disappeared — it hadn’t — but because uncertainty was only useful up to a point. After that, it became distraction. And distraction was something she couldn’t afford. She woke early, the city still quiet beneath her windows. Morning light filtered in softly, diffused by clouds that promised rain later in the day. She took her time getting ready, grounding herself in routine. The familiar cadence steadied her pulse. By the time she left her apartment, she felt composed again. The drive to work passed without incident. No lingering cars. No strange detours. Just traffic and impatience and the quiet reassurance of normalcy. Adrian took that as confirmation that whatever she’d felt before hadn’t been a threat — just awareness sharpened by stress. At the office, the day unfolded cleanly. Meetings ran on schedule. Numbers aligned. Decisions were made and executed without resistance. People listened when she spoke. The