Part 77
(Adrian's POV)
He didn't sleep that night.
The glow of his phone screen kept pulling him back — refreshing, checking, hoping it had vanished.
But every time he opened the app, the post had climbed higher.
More shares. More comments.
Dozens of accounts arguing whether it was him or not.
Some were harmless:
"He just looks like Adrian! Chill."
"That guy's too calm to be a celebrity."
Others were sharper:
"Same hands. Same voice in the background of the video."
"I swear that's him. Look at the wrist tattoo—zoom in—the small lunar tattoo."
His throat went dry. He hadn't even realized someone had filmed a clip.
A tiny video, ten seconds long — him laughing softly while handing a cup across the counter.
It didn't show his full face, but the voice was unmistakable.
My voice.
He turned off the phone. Turned it on again.
The post was still there, already mirrored across other accounts.
His mother noticed his stillness when she came into the room.
"Something wrong?"
Adrian forced a smile. "Just a rumor. Online."
She frowned, wiping her hands on a towel. "You look pale. Are they bothering you again?"
He shook his head. "No, Mom. Don't worry."
But the lie tasted bitter.
He locked himself in his room later, trying to think.
Deleting the post wouldn't work — once something hit the internet, it grew roots.
He could change towns again, maybe even countries, but each time he ran, he left a breadcrumb.
And someone — she — might follow.
He stared at his reflection in the dark window. The same face that once smiled for millions now looked… cornered.
Maybe he'd been foolish to think peace could last.
Still, he refused to panic.
He'd promised himself this life was real — the shop, his mother, the quiet mornings.
He wouldn't let a rumor destroy that.
Tomorrow, he'd talk to the students if they came back, ask them politely to delete the video. Maybe even change his name on the shop license, swap shifts, anything.
He breathed in slowly, grounding himself in the scent of coffee still lingering on his skin.
You're safe here. You're okay. You're not that man anymore.
But deep down, beneath the calm, something darker whispered —
Someone saw that post too.
Someone who never stopped looking.
For the first time in a long while, Adrian double-locked his door before going to bed.