By the time Emily left Chloe's apartment, the sky had softened to shades of pale gold and lavender, the last rays of sunlight kissing the tops of the buildings. It was just after 5 p.m., and the chill in the air carried a promise that spring hadn't quite arrived yet.
Chloe had changed into her fifth outfit before finally settling on a sleek navy dress, and Emily had been roped into everything from eyeliner application to mini-therapy session.
"Is it too much?" Chloe had asked, twirling in front of the mirror.
"It's perfect," Emily replied, smiling despite herself. "Mason's jaw is going to hit the floor."
Chloe beamed, then caught Emily's reflection in the mirror. "You okay?"
Emily shrugged. "Of course. You're going on a date with your dream guy. I'm proud of you."
That wasn't a lie. She was proud. Chloe had a steady job, a stable relationship, and a social life that didn't revolve around caring for someone else. Emily didn't envy her exactly — but sometimes it felt like she was standing on the shore while everyone else set sail.
She didn't say any of that out loud. Instead, she gave Chloe a final thumbs-up, grabbed her bag, and started the walk back home.
It was quieter now. Streetlights flickered on one by one as the sun dipped lower. Emily kept her hands stuffed into her coat pockets and her eyes on the pavement, her thoughts tumbling over each other.
She didn't date. Not seriously, anyway. She'd been on a few awkward coffee outings, some half-hearted setups, but nothing ever stuck. She wasn't cold or uninterested — just… tired. Tired of pretending she had time for romance when rent was late and her grandmother's prescriptions cost more than her weekly groceries.
Love wasn't a luxury she could afford.
A car passed slowly behind her, its headlights washing over the sidewalk. She didn't turn around, but her shoulders tensed. That feeling was back.
Like someone was watching.
Her pace quickened, boot soles tapping against concrete in sharp rhythm. She didn't run — not yet — but her pulse picked up, heart thudding a little too fast.
She reached the corner and darted a glance behind her.
Empty street. Just a couple walking in the distance and an old man waiting at a bus stop. Nothing unusual. Still, the prickling sensation stayed.
It's just your nerves. You're wound up about the interview, that's all.
She shook her head, trying to laugh at herself as she turned onto her street. The moment her apartment building came into view, she exhaled with relief.
Inside, the warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. Familiar. Safe.
She double-locked the door, then peeked into the living room. Her grandma was still napping, the blanket pulled to her chin and her soft breathing filling the silence. Emily smiled and moved quietly into the kitchen.
Dinner was quick — a box of pasta, some sautéed frozen vegetables, and the last of the garlic bread from the freezer. It wasn't gourmet, but it was hot and filling.
"I made your favorite," she said gently as she woke her grandmother later. "Eat up before it gets cold."
They ate together at the little table, the TV humming low in the background. Irene asked about her day, and Emily gave her a version of the truth — she hung out with Chloe, did some reading, maybe found a lead for a new job.
She didn't mention the uneasy feeling.
Or the fact that she had no backup plan if the interview didn't work out.
Later, she helped her grandma into bed, propped up her pillows, and made sure the heater wasn't too high.
"Goodnight, my love," Irene said, voice soft.
"Goodnight, Grandma."
Emily lingered for a moment, watching her drift off. Then she stepped into her own small room and shut the door behind her.
She pulled out her modest wardrobe — neat slacks, a few plain blouses, and one blazer that almost made her feel like she had her life together. After some deliberation, she laid out a pale blue blouse and black pants on her chair.
Simple. Professional. Safe.
She'd iron them in the morning.
She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, staring at the clothes. Her stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves and hope.
Tomorrow could be different.
Tomorrow could change everything.
Then again… she wasn't sure what "different" would even look like anymore.
With a sigh, she climbed under the covers and turned off the light. But even in the dark, that feeling lingered.
Like someone had seen her.
Really seen her.
And they weren't done watching yet.