Why is all this happening to me?"
Flora stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror. The dim golden light of her room cast soft shadows under her tired eyes. It wasn't just the sleepless nights anymore it was the constant unease that gnawed at her, the feeling that the world had turned unfamiliar overnight.
Rumors at school, whispers behind her back, and that mysterious number that knew too much.
Everything felt bitter lately.
She brushed her fingers against her lips and sighed. Maybe… I just need something sweet.
The thought was random, almost childish, but strangely comforting. A small, harmless way to balance the bitterness. So she grabbed her phone and purse, telling the housekeeper she'd be out for a short walk, and stepped outside.
The evening air was cool. Streetlights flickered alive one by one, throwing long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. Her mansion stood tall behind her beautiful, grand, and painfully empty.
The small ice cream parlor at the corner glowed warmly in contrast. A chime rang as she pushed open the glass door, and the familiar scent of sugar and melted chocolate hit her senses. The cozy hum of background music was soothing; it reminded her there were still corners of the world untouched by chaos.
"Chocolate scoop with extra drizzle," she murmured to the server at the counter her usual.
"Eat-in or take-away?" a calm voice asked.
Her gaze lifted.
For a second, she forgot to breathe.
The man standing behind the counter wasn't someone she had seen before tall, broad-shouldered, with soft hazel eyes that didn't quite match his stoic expression. His uniform sleeves were rolled up, revealing veins along his forearms. Even in the warm light of the shop, there was something… coldly quiet about him.
"Eat-in," she managed to reply.
He gave a brief nod and turned away. She watched as he scooped the chocolate ice cream, his movements precise, unhurried.
When he came over to her table, he placed the cup in front of her gently. "You should enjoy your ice cream before it melts," he said in a voice that was deep but surprisingly soft.
She blinked. Something about that tone it felt oddly familiar.
He turned to leave, but before she could stop herself, she asked, "Have we met before?"
He paused, then looked at her. "Maybe." His lips tilted slightly, almost a smile, but not quite. "You like visiting parks."
Her spoon froze midway to her mouth. "How do you"
"I saw you yesterday," he interrupted, his gaze lowering briefly. "You shouldn't stay out late. It's not safe. After you left, there were some thugs near the alley. I thought… you might've crossed paths with them."
Her chest tightened. So he was that voice the stranger who had told her to go home.
"I see," she said quietly, unsure what to feel. Relieved, maybe. Grateful, even. But there was also a flicker of discomfort she couldn't name.
He looked down at the table again and pushed a small plate toward her. "Extra brownie. Complimentary."
She blinked in surprise. "I didn't order that."
"You didn't have to."
"Why?"
"You look like you could use something sweet," he said simply, turning away to adjust a nearby chair.
Something sweet.
Her lips curved faintly, despite herself. "Thank you… uh"
"Shane," he said, glancing back at her. "Shane Anderson."
The name tugged at the edge of her memory. She'd heard it before, somewhere.
"I think I've heard that name," she murmured.
"Maybe at school," he said casually. "I'm in Section C. We don't interact much with Section B."
She frowned slightly. "Really? I don't think I could forget a face like yours."
This time, his lips did curve into a full smile but it wasn't the kind of smile that reached his eyes. It was subtle, calculated. "Guess I'm just easy to miss."
The way he said it made her heart skip.
She looked down at her melting ice cream and forced herself to eat another bite. The sweetness felt heavier than usual.
When she looked up again, he was still standing there not hovering, not exactly watching her either, just standing quietly as if waiting for something unsaid.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable… but it wasn't peaceful either.
To fill it, she said, "Do you work here often?"
"Every evening," he replied. "One of my part-time jobs."
"You must be busy," she said, trying to sound polite.
He gave a low chuckle. "You could say that."
Then his eyes softened a little, almost imperceptibly. "You really should be more careful, Flora."
Her hand tightened around the spoon. "How do you know my name?"
He looked slightly surprised by the question, as if he hadn't realized he'd said it. "You're… quite well-known," he said after a pause. "Everyone knows who you are."
"Oh." Her voice came out smaller than she intended. "Right."
He nodded once, then turned away to attend another customer.
Flora sat there for a moment longer, trying to shake off the strange feeling coiling in her chest. When she finally finished, she stood and paid at the counter.
"Thanks for the brownie," she said, forcing a small smile.
"Anytime," Shane replied. His tone was polite again, emotionless.
As she stepped outside, the chime of the door rang again. The air had turned cooler; the streetlights shimmered faintly. She felt oddly lighter and yet, a part of her still buzzed with awareness.
She took a few steps, then hesitated.
Turning back slightly, she saw Shane through the shop window, standing where she'd left him. His expression was unreadable neither friendly nor distant. Just calm. Watching.
Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket.
She froze. Heart thumping, she pulled it out only to find a notification from a food delivery app.
She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. "Get a grip, Flora."
And yet, even as she walked away, she couldn't shake the faint warmth in her chestor the quiet thought that the stranger's eyes had followed her a little longer than they should have.