Helena couldn't sleep that night.
Lying in bed, staring at the familiar ceiling with the damp stain she never bothered to fix, she felt the weight of invisible eyes on her skin. The TV was on the documentary channel—as always—but the low volume wasn't enough to calm the unease growing inside her.
At three in the morning, the exact time she always woke up, she found herself looking out the window. The curtains were closed, but she was sure that if she opened them, she would see something. Someone.
He said he had been watching her for years.
Years.
How many nights like this had he seen? How many times had he witnessed her most vulnerable, most intimate moments without her knowing?
Her stomach churned. She ran to the bathroom and vomited.
________________________________________
The next day, Helena arrived late to work. She had deep dark circles under her eyes, and her hands trembled as she tried to hold her coffee mug.
"You look terrible," Marina commented, worried. "Are you sick?"
"I just haven't been sleeping well."
"That's been happening a lot lately," Marina lowered her voice. "Do you want to talk about what's really going on?"
Helena opened her mouth to lie, as she always did. But the words wouldn't come. How could she explain that she was afraid of being watched by a man she barely knew, but who somehow knew her better than anyone else in her life?
"I..." she began, but was interrupted.
A delivery woman appeared at the door of the room with a huge bouquet of white lilies.
"Helena Martins?"
Her blood ran cold.
"That's me."
The woman handed over the flowers with a smile and left. Helena stood there, holding the bouquet, her hands numb.
"Wow," Marina whistled. "Who's the secret admirer?"
With trembling fingers, Helena opened the small card attached to the flowers.
"White lilies. Your favorite flowers. Even if you never tell anyone. See you at noon. — L"
— Hel? What do you say?
Helena crumpled the card in her hand.
— Nothing. It's... nothing important.
But it was. Because she had never told anyone that white lilies were her favorite flowers. Never. Not to André, not to Marina, not even to her mother. It was a small, private detail, something she had kept to herself since adolescence, when she saw a field of them on a trip and felt at peace for the first time in her life.
How did he know?
________________________________________
At half past eleven, Helena was already in the park.
She sat on her usual bench, her body tense, her eyes searching for him. Minutes dragged on like hours. The feeling of being watched was so intense that she could feel it on her skin, like static electricity.
She turned to the right. Nothing.
To the left. Nothing.
She glanced over her shoulder and…
He was standing about ten meters away, leaning against a tree. He wasn't making any effort to hide. He was just watching, with that intensity that made the air heavy.
How long had he been there?
Helena stood up and walked toward him, each step echoing loudly in her chest.
"How long have you been watching me?" She stopped a few steps away. "When don't I know you're around?"
"Quite a while," he replied simply.
"Is that an answer?"
"It's the truth."
Helena crossed her arms, trying to protect herself from the vulnerability she felt.
"The lilies. How did you know?"
A discreet smile touched his lips.
"You stopped in front of a flower shop. About two years ago. You stared at them for almost five minutes, with that expression…" he paused. "As if you'd found something precious."
"You were there."
"I was."
"And when else?" Her voice rose. — When else were you there, Liam? At the bakery? At the market? In my building?
He didn't answer, but the answer was in his eyes. Always.
— Do you come into my building? — She took a step back. — Do you... do you stand at my door?
— I've never been inside your apartment — he said, and there was something akin to honor in it, as if it were a boundary he imposed on himself. — But yes, I stand outside sometimes. I need to know you're okay.
— Are you listening to what you're saying? — Helena laughed, a humorless sound. — You sound completely insane!
— I know.
— Then why do you keep going?
Liam moved away from the tree and took a step toward her. Then another. Helena didn't back away this time.
— Because you're not just another person to me, Helena. — His voice was low, intense. — You're... essential.
— You don't really know me. You just observe me, it's different.
— I know how you bite your lower lip when you're nervous. — He took another step. — How you close your eyes when you hear a song you like. How you smile at dogs on the street even when you're having the worst day.
Helena felt her legs go weak.
— How can you not realize there's something wrong with this?
— I do realize. — Another step. He was close now, too close. — But I can't stop. I've tried.
— Tried?
— For weeks "After I first saw you." There was pain in his voice now, something raw. "I tried to ignore you, move on with my life, pretend you didn't matter. But it's like trying to stop breathing, Helena. Impossible."
"That's not love," she whispered. "That's obsession."
"It's both." He raised his hand, but didn't touch her, letting his fingers hover inches from her face. "And it's so much more than you imagine."
"Then tell me." Helena looked into his eyes. "Tell me everything. You promised."
Liam let his hand fall and took a step back, running his fingers through his hair. For the first time, he seemed vulnerable. Uncertain.
"If I tell you, you'll run away."
"And if you don't tell me, I'll leave anyway."
He stared at her for a long moment, and Helena saw something changing in those golden eyes. A decision being made.
"There's a place." He nodded toward the end of the park. — More private. Are you coming?
All rationality screamed at her to say no. To leave, block his number, maybe even file a police report. But there was something stronger than reason pulling her toward him. Something ancient, deep, that seemed to come from a place before logic.
— I'll go — she said. — But if you're lying...
— I'm not. — The seriousness in his voice was absolute. — And when you know the truth, you'll understand why I couldn't tell you before. Why I needed to be sure first.
— Sure of what?
His eyes shone again, that supernatural gold.
— That you are truly mine.
And even without fully understanding what that meant, Helena felt something inside her respond — a visceral, frightening, and undeniable recognition.
She followed him.
________________________________________
to be continued...