HIS POV:
The black car was gone.
Adrian stood near the café window, eyes scanning the street again.
Empty lanes.
Moving buses.
Normal people.
Too normal.
His phone still burned in his palm from the earlier message.
You can't protect her forever.
Disappearing meant relocation.
Relocation meant intent.
His gaze shifted back inside.
Meera sat at the corner table, stirring her coffee absently.
Unaware.
And that made his chest tighten.
HER POV:
The café smelled like warm bread and sugar.
Meera traced the rim of her cup, pretending to focus on her notes, but her thoughts kept slipping elsewhere.
The brush of his shoulder.
The steady calm in his voice.
The strange sense of safety she couldn't explain.
Her fingers paused mid-page.
She could still feel the faint echo of his presence beside her — solid, grounding, steady in a way that made her breathe easier without realizing it.
In low voice -she said "It was ridiculous."
We barely knew each other.
And yet… her heartbeat softened whenever he was near.
She glanced toward the glass window.
Adrian stood there — relaxed posture, sharp eyes.
Watching.
Guarding.
The realization sent a quiet warmth curling through her chest, slow and unfamiliar… followed by something else.
A faint unease.
As if the air itself had shifted.
The café chatter suddenly felt louder.
Too layered.
Too close.
A ripple of awareness moved across her skin — the strange sensation of being noticed without knowing by whom.
She shifted slightly in her chair, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic cup.
Her reflection in the window looked thinner somehow.
Smaller
And
Exposed.
The comfort didn't disappear — but it now carried an edge.
Like standing in sunlight while sensing a shadow just outside its reach.
She inhaled slowly, trying to shake the feeling away.
It was probably nothing.
Still… her gaze drifted back to Adrian again, seeking that quiet steadiness without even meaning to.
And that was when her phone vibrated.
HER POV:
Her phone vibrated softly against the café table.
Meera glanced down casually at first — then froze.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
A single message glowed on the screen.
Unknown Number:Busy morning today.
Her brows knit together.
That was strange… but harmless.
Probably wrong number.
She was about to ignore it when another vibration followed almost immediately.
Unknown Number:You always choose the window seat.
A faint chill slid down her spine.
How would someone know that?
She slowly lifted her eyes, instinctively scanning the café — the crowded tables, the chatter, the moving bodies.
No one looked at her.
Another vibration.
Unknown Number:Relax. Just an observation.
Her heartbeat picked up.
Her fingers hesitated before typing.
Meera:Who is this?
Three dots appeared.
Paused.
Disappeared.
Then the reply came.
Unknown Number:Someone who noticed you noticing things.
Her breath caught.
The words didn't accuse.
They hinted.
Her unease deepened.
A tight knot formed low in her stomach.
Not fear exactly
But
Awareness.
The kind that made her skin prickle even when nothing looked wrong.
Her gaze flicked instinctively toward the glass window again.
Adrian was still there.
Still watching the room with that quiet, alert focus.
The sight steadied her slightly — like an anchor pulling her back from drifting panic.
Her phone vibrated again.
She flinched this time.
Unknown Number:Careful where curiosity leads. Some doors don't like being opened twice.
Her throat went dry.
That didn't sound like a joke
Or
coincidence.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure whether to respond — unsure whether responding was exactly what the sender wanted.
A strange pressure settled in her chest.
As if someone, somewhere, was waiting for her next move.
HIS POV:
He saw it instantly.
The way her color drained.
The way her fingers tightened around the phone.
Her shoulders stiffened, subtle, almost imperceptible — but enough.
Her eyes flicked to the screen again, scanning without really seeing.
Something had shifted.
Awareness.
Unease.
Instinct kicked in.
He crossed the café in measured strides, stopping beside her.
"What's wrong?" His voice was calm, controlled, but firm — the kind that made hesitation pointless.
Her hands lingered on the phone. Finally, slowly, she tilted it toward him.
He read the messages as they appeared:
Unknown Number:You're not as invisible as you think.
Another vibration.
Unknown Number:Stop looking where you shouldn't.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
The phrasing, the subtle menace — deliberate, controlled, careful.
Another vibration.
Unknown Number:Some doors stay closed for a reason.
He scanned the café without moving his eyes from her.
Students
Staff
Entrances
Exits
Nothing seemed out of place.
Yet his instincts screamed danger.
He leaned slightly closer. "Stay here," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. "Don't leave my side."
The warning carried weight she couldn't ignore.
She obeyed.
Across the street, partially hidden behind a moving car, a dark vehicle paused briefly — and then continued, slipping back into traffic.
Adrian's fingers clenched the edge of the table.
Not again.
That look — it wasn't new.
It was old.
A buried memory stirred.
Rain
Dark street.
A trembling hand slipping from his grasp.
"Run…"
The echo scraped against his mind like glass.
His jaw tightened.
Not again.
He studied her face, taking in the tension, the alertness, the tiny flickers of fear he recognized so well.
Every instinct told him she was in danger.
And he would not let her go.
He put his thoughts aside
And
He straightened slowly, forcing calm into his posture.
"Finish your drink," he said evenly. "We leave together."
Something in his tone made her obey without question.
They stepped outside.
Sunlight.
Noise.
Normal life.
A perfect cover.
Adrian's senses screamed danger.
His phone vibrated.
A new message.
UNKNOWN:Good. You're close to her now.
His blood went cold.
They weren't watching anymore.
They were near.
Very near.
His hand brushed Meera's lightly — not accidental this time.
A silent promise.