The pen sat on her desk like a ticking bomb.
Nina had shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans when she left the library, fingers numb with shock, but now—back in the supposed safety of her room—she couldn't bring herself to touch it again. It lay there beside her notebook, its cheap plastic body catching the lamplight in a faint, innocent gleam. Such an ordinary thing. A pen she could have bought at any corner shop, something she'd chewed absentmindedly during lectures, tossed into the depths of her bag without care.
And yet it wasn't ordinary anymore. It was proof. Proof that her world was no longer hers.
Adrian had touched it. Adrian had touched her life.
Her stomach twisted at the thought, nausea swirling up her throat. She pressed her palms flat on the desk, staring at the object as though it might twitch to life. She told herself to throw it away. She could grab it between two fingers, march down the hall, and drop it into the garbage chute. Watch it vanish into darkness, clattering into oblivion.
But she didn't move. She couldn't.
The pen stayed. Stubborn as a bruise.
Her phone buzzed against the desk, the screen lighting up with Lara's name. A call. The sound made her flinch. She stared at it until the vibration stopped, leaving silence in its wake. She couldn't answer. She couldn't hear Lara's voice right now, couldn't explain the dark circles beneath her eyes or the tremor in her hands. She couldn't bear the inevitable words: You're being paranoid. Just go to the police.
Police.
The thought scraped at her. She pictured herself walking into the station, standing at a counter beneath fluorescent lights, telling some bored officer that a stranger had given her back her pen. That a book filled with her life sat in her drawer. That someone had whispered her name like a secret in the quiet of the library.
And what would they say? They'd laugh, maybe. Or worse—they'd tilt their heads with weary pity, tell her it wasn't a crime until he actually did something.
Her throat ached. Her hands slid up to cover her face, palms pressing hard against her eyes until she saw spots.
He already has.
The next morning, she tried to erase him with routine. She clung to it like a lifeline. Coffee brewed too strong, the bitter taste scalding her tongue. Classes, one after another, notes scrawled in the margins though her brain barely registered the words. She forced herself to smile when Lara leaned in to whisper gossip, forced a laugh when everyone else laughed, though it came out too late, too brittle. Pretending her life was still hers.
But when she left campus, she saw him.
Not close. Not approaching. Not even looking at her directly. Just there—leaning against a wall across the street, jacket dark against the pale stone. His head bent as if he were checking his phone, body language casual, forgettable. To anyone else, just another man waiting for someone.
But Nina knew.
Her pulse spiked instantly, her breath stuttering. She didn't need to see his eyes to feel them. The heat of his gaze burned through the crowd, even with his head lowered.
Her breath caught painfully. She turned quickly, ducking into the flow of students spilling out of the lecture halls. Her boots clattered too fast against the pavement, weaving her between backpacks and winter coats, her heartbeat thudding in her ears louder than their chatter. Faster. Faster. Just keep moving until the noise swallowed her.
When she finally risked a glance over her shoulder, the wall was empty.
Relief shuddered through her body, loosening her stiff muscles. See? She was imagining things. He hadn't been there at all. She was making monsters out of ordinary men.
But when she reached the tram stop, her stomach dropped like a stone.
He stood on the opposite platform.
Not hiding now. Not pretending. His posture was relaxed but deliberate, shoulders straight, head tilted slightly as though studying the crowd. As though studying her.
The tram screeched to a halt, doors clanging open with a hiss. Nina stumbled inside, heart pounding so hard she thought her chest might crack. She pressed herself against the far wall, eyes glued to the glass.
Adrian didn't move. He didn't step forward. He didn't follow.
But as the tram jolted into motion, pulling away from the platform, he lifted his head.
And smiled.
The expression was small, barely there. But it froze her blood colder than any scream could have.
That night, Nina locked her door three times. She checked each bolt twice, tugging hard to be sure. She pulled the curtains shut until no gap remained, fabric overlapping in an awkward fold. Then she turned on every light in the apartment. The glow made the air sharp, shadows stretching long and thin like claws across the walls.
Still, it didn't feel safe.
She curled up on the couch with her laptop perched on her knees, forcing herself to work. Marketing slides. Bullet points. Color palettes. Anything to keep her eyes on something ordinary, anything to push his face from her mind.
But the words blurred. Her concentration dissolved. Every slide she clicked through warped into memory: his pale eyes, his calm voice.
Don't worry. I'll always be close.
Her fingers trembled on the keyboard. She slammed the laptop shut so hard it rattled against her thighs.
Her phone buzzed.
The sound made her flinch violently.
She snatched it up, breath held. No name. No number she recognized. Just the message:
Did you eat dinner tonight?
Her mouth went dry. Her grip faltered. The phone nearly slipped from her hand. She dropped it onto the couch cushions as though it had burned her.
Another buzz.
You forget when you're stressed.
Tears prickled her eyes. She wanted to scream. To smash the phone against the wall until it shattered into silence. To run until even the city couldn't find her. But her body wouldn't move. She sat frozen, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts.
The screen lit again.
I could bring you something. You like pasta, don't you?
Her fingers shook as she picked the phone back up, thumbs hovering above the screen. Every instinct screamed: Don't answer. Don't give him what he wants.
But her fear twisted into something else—desperation, fury. She typed anyway.
Who are you?
The reply came instantly.
I already told you. Adrian.
Her throat closed. She stared at the word until her eyes blurred.
She deleted the message, shut the phone off with shaking hands, and hurled it across the room. It landed on the couch with a muffled thud, still too close, its black screen reflecting the lamplight.
Her chest heaved. She couldn't stay here. Not with him outside. Not with him inside her phone, her files, her life.
She pulled on her coat with clumsy movements and bolted into the night.
Cold air slapped her cheeks, sharp and damp. Her boots struck the wet pavement in frantic rhythm as she ran, no destination in mind. Just movement. Just escape.
The city blurred around her. Shop signs streaked past. Car headlights smeared into pale arcs. She turned corners blindly, alleys swallowing her, each street indistinguishable from the last. She kept running until her lungs burned, until her legs threatened to give out.
Finally, breathless, she stumbled into the square by the river. Streetlamps glowed above cobblestones slick with rain, casting pale halos in the dark. The water shimmered black and endless, a restless sheet of glass.
Nina bent forward, palms braced on her knees, gasping for air. For the first time all day, she felt something close to clean air in her lungs. The river's hiss and rush filled her ears, drowning out the echo of his voice.
Until a shadow fell across hers.
Her head snapped up.
Adrian stood a few paces away.
Not smiling now. Not pretending. His posture was steady, eyes pale and sharp in the lamplight. The sight rooted her to the spot.
Her breath stuttered out. "Stop following me."
He tilted his head, a faint crease of amusement at the corner of his mouth. "Following? I'm protecting."
Her voice cracked. "You broke into my apartment. You wrote in that book. You—you know everything about me." The words rose sharper, louder, until a couple passing on the other side of the square turned their heads. Adrian didn't react.
"Yes," he said simply. Calm. Unshaken. "I do."
The casual certainty made her blood run cold.
"Why?" she whispered, almost choking on the word.
Silence stretched between them. The river hissed. Somewhere far off, a car horn blared.
His gaze softened—not gentle, but heavy, intimate.
"Because no one else sees you," Adrian said quietly. "Not the way I do."
The words slid beneath her skin. Shame tangled with fear. Because part of her wanted to believe him.
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. Not touching her. Just near enough that the space between them pulsed with tension.
"You're not safe, Nina," he murmured. His voice was low enough that it seemed to weave directly into her chest. "But you could be—with me."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Every instinct screamed: Run. Yet her feet felt anchored to the cobblestones, heavy, immovable.
Adrian leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed her cheek, close enough that the faint chill of night clung to him.
"You don't have to be afraid of me," he whispered. "You just have to stop fighting."
Then, as if the world itself bent around him, he turned.
And melted into the shadows.
Gone.
Nina stood alone beneath the streetlamp, trembling, the roar of the river filling the emptiness he left behind.
And for the first time, she realised she wasn't sure what terrified her more—
That he might come back.
Or that he might not.