The city always felt too loud.
The endless chatter, the honking cars, the blur of footsteps brushing past me—it all pressed against my chest like an invisible weight. But still, I walked the same path every morning. Same streets. Same coffee shop. Same corner where I paused, hoping the familiar routine would keep the chaos away.
It never really worked.
I clutched my coffee cup tighter, the warmth seeping through my fingers. I hated crowds, hated how exposed I felt when too many people were around me. It wasn't just shyness. It was something deeper—like my body remembered a danger my mind tried to forget.
That was why I avoided attention. Why I wore plain clothes, kept my hair tied back, never looked too long into anyone's eyes.
Attention was dangerous.
And yet—
Sometimes I felt it.
A prickling at the back of my neck. A quiet knowing that someone was there. Watching. Waiting.
I would turn, just enough to glance over my shoulder, but there was never anyone staring back. Just strangers passing by, faces blurred by the rush of the morning. Still, the feeling lingered, as though invisible eyes followed me through the crowd.
I hated it.
I hated that small, traitorous part of me that wondered if I wasn't imagining it.
Pushing the thought away, I reached the university gates. Students laughed, grouped together, their voices a little too bright for someone like me. I slipped past them silently, hugging my books to my chest like armor.
"Arielle!"
The sound of my name jolted me. My best friend Mia hurried toward me, her curls bouncing, her voice far too cheerful for this hour of the morning.
"You didn't pick up my call last night," she accused lightly, looping her arm through mine. "Don't tell me you fell asleep with that boring novel again."
I smiled faintly, letting her chatter drown out the heaviness in my chest. Mia didn't know. No one knew. I kept my shadows locked deep inside, behind smiles and nods.
But as I walked beside her, I felt it again.
That prickling. That awareness.
Someone's gaze on me.
I forced myself not to turn. Not to search the crowd. My fingers tightened on my books. My heart stumbled.
I told myself it was nothing. Just my imagination.
But deep down, I knew.
Someone out there wasn't just passing by.
Someone was watching me.
And sooner or later—
they would step out of the shadows.