I sank onto my sofa, hands pressed to my face, trying to calm my racing heart. The world had always been dangerous. And yet, with him, it was as if danger had a shape I could recognize, something I could navigate.
But even as I breathed in the faint scent of his cologne lingering in my mind, the primal part of me, the part trained by fear and trauma, remained alert. Safe didn't mean untouchable. Protected didn't mean invincible.
And then, a soft flicker of movement outside my window caught my attention. At first, I thought it was a shadow, a trick of the streetlight. But it moved again, deliberate, measured.
I held my breath, heart pounding. The fear that had been buried under my strange new sense of security surged forward. Someone or something was outside. Watching. Waiting.
Grabbing my phone, I quickly turned off all lights and slowly crept closer to the window. I didn't make a sound, I didn't call out. My body knew instinctively to stay still. And then, a small vibration on my phone made me jump.
A message.
Unknown Number:
You're safe. For now.
I felt a shiver run through me not the kind of fear that makes you run. The kind that makes your blood run cold and your pulse race in a strange, thrilling way. The kind of fear that whispered: This is just the beginning.
And beneath it all, there was an undeniable truth. I was no longer afraid of being alone. I was afraid of being without him.
I stayed frozen by the window, heart hammering, listening. The street was empty, quiet, except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hum of a car engine. Shadows shifted along the walls of neighbouring buildings, but nothing moved closer. My pulse slowed just enough to think just enough to feel the weight of the message sinking in.
A sudden knock at my door made me jump. My breath caught in my throat. The lock clicked, then a soft, familiar voice whispered through the gap.
"Aria?"
I barely dared to respond. "E... Elias?"
The door opened slowly, and there he was, silhouetted by the dim hallway light. Calm. Silent. His presence filled the room, making the shadows seem smaller, less threatening.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said softly, stepping inside. There was no announcement of movement, no intrusion, just... inevitability.
I felt my knees weaken, my hands trembling. "I-I saw someone outside."
He tilted his head, eyes dark and unreadable. "I know."
A chill ran through me, but it wasn't fear. It was something darker, thrilling. He always knew. He always saw. And tonight, I realized: nothing in the world could make me feel safer than being watched by him.