After ten days—
I shut every window, one by one, double-checking the locks. Curtains go up next—thick, dark, pulled tight until the outside world disappears. The apartment feels smaller, quieter, like it's holding its breath with me.
I call the security desk and lower my voice.
"Please don't let anyone up. No visitors. No excuses."
The guard sounds serious this time. He promises.
Living here doesn't feel safe anymore.
Ever since one idiot girl figured out Jiang's address and dumped it online, fangirls keep showing up—loitering near the gate, pretending to be delivery people, giggling too loudly, phones always angled just a little too much toward our building.
I lean my forehead against the curtain for a second, jaw tight.
This isn't fame. This is invasion.
I turn back into the apartment, already planning what else I can lock down.
Jiang is always taken out secretly by the agency now—back doors, masks, cars that don't stop too long.
