Over the following weeks, Elias appeared everywhere in my life, yet never overstepped. He showed up at the café when I was alone, helped me carry groceries, and even started subtle gestures of protection I didn't fully understand. A strange blend of relief and unease. I felt lighter, safer, but that safety was not ordinary. It wasn't the peace you felt in a warm home or a quiet park. It was the safety of being watched over, protected, and yet powerless to fully understand the cost. He didn't ask for permission, but he didn't force himself on me. It was careful, measured, deliberate. The kind of attention that made me shiver and relax all at once.
It was unsettling, yet intoxicating.
I found myself thinking about him constantly. Every small gesture, every quiet glance lingered in my mind. The way he noticed the crumbs of my breakfast, the slight crease in my sleeve, the tired tilt of my shoulders at the end of the day. The world outside my apartment had always felt dangerous, unpredictable, but with Elias near, the chaos receded into the shadows. He absorbed it all, and I... I wanted to lean into that. His presence had become a kind of anchor in a world that always felt dangerous. And yet, a part of me smarter, more cautious wondered: Who exactly was Elias Black? How did he know the people I feared? Why did I feel safer with him than I had in years?
One evening, after a long day at work, he walked me home again. The streets were unusually empty, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears until you heard every footstep, every distant horn, every whisper of wind. I kept my hands tucked into my coat pockets, my gaze fixed on the pavement, half-afraid, half-relieved that he was there.
"You shouldn't have to walk alone at night," he said softly, his voice carrying just enough to be felt rather than heard.
"I'm fine," I muttered, though my chest tightened.
"Fine isn't the same as safe," he countered. His eyes caught mine, piercing, unreadable. "And you deserve safety. Always."
I swallowed. I wanted to protest, to tell him that I could take care of myself, that I didn't need protection-but the words wouldn't form. He had a way of making the world smaller, quieter, simpler, and somehow more terrifying at the same time.
When we reached the entrance to my building, I hesitated. The lobby was dimly lit, the security guard nodded without looking up. Elias stopped a few steps behind me, letting me enter first.
"You don't have to be afraid anymore," he whispered. His eyes held mine, steady, unwavering. "Just let me be here. Let me protect you."
I felt my chest tighten. His words were simple, yet heavy. Protective. Obsessive, in a way I didn't yet understand. For a moment, I imagined stepping away, telling him to leave, reclaiming my independence. But the thought was hollow, I stepped inside, heart racing, I paused to look back. He wasn't there, but I felt him-the unspoken promise that he would always be.... My door, locked with a soft click behind me. Alone again, I realized something unsettling:
I realized I didn't want him to leave. Not now. Not ever.
Cliff-hanger: Somewhere outside, the streetlights flickered, and I could swear I saw a shadow move, someone, or something, waiting, just beyond my view.