Lara moved through her morning routine on autopilot.
Shower. Lotion. Light makeup. A soft brown blouse and tailored black trousers. Nothing dramatic. Nothing attention-seeking. Just clean and professional.
But even as she stood in front of her mirror adjusting her earrings, her mind was somewhere else.
She studied her reflection.
"You're being weird," she told herself quietly.
She didn't look different. Didn't feel sick. Didn't feel excited.
Just… unsettled.
Her phone buzzed with a message.
Tunde:
If you cancel our coffee later, I will publicly embarrass you.
She smiled.
Lara:
You're dramatic for no reason.
Tunde:
There is always a reason.
She shook her head, grabbed her bag, and headed out.
Work passed normally.
Emails. Calls. Minor office gossip. A quick sighting of senior management walking past the hallway — but she didn't see him.
Part of her was relieved.
Another part — the smaller, quieter part — noticed the disappointment.
She ignored it.
By 6 p.m., she was exhausted enough to stop thinking too much.
She met Tunde at their usual café, a cozy place tucked between two larger buildings. Soft music played in the background. The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the air.
Tunde was already seated, dramatically waving at her like she had been missing for years.
"Finally!" he said as she approached. "I was about to start charging interest on your lateness."
"It's seven minutes," she said, sitting down.
"Seven minutes too long."
He leaned back, studying her face.
"You look fine," he announced.
"Thank you…?"
"No dark circles. No emotional breakdown energy. Which means whatever this is, it's internal."
She laughed. "You analyze me like I'm a project."
"You are a project."
They ordered their drinks, and for a while, the conversation stayed light.
He told her about a disastrous date.
"He said he's 'emotionally unavailable but spiritually open.' What does that even mean?"
"It means run," she said immediately.
"Exactly! I paid for my own drink and left."
She laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.
The ease between them felt good. Familiar. Safe.
But eventually, he leaned forward.
"Okay. Back to you."
She groaned. "Why are we back to me?"
"Because you called me at 6 a.m. That's not random."
She stared at her coffee for a moment.
"It's just… I don't know," she said finally. "I felt watched yesterday."
His joking expression faded slightly.
"At home?"
"Yes."
"Did you see anyone?"
"No. That's the thing. Nothing was there. But it felt real."
He was quiet for a second.
"And the man from the meeting?"
She hesitated.
"When I looked at him," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, "it felt like he knew me."
Tunde frowned. "That's not romantic. That's unsettling."
"I know."
"Did he say anything?"
"No."
"Then maybe you're connecting things that aren't connected."
"Maybe."
But the word didn't convince her.
They let the topic drop after that. Lighter conversation returned. Teasing. Laughter.
Still, when they stood to leave, Tunde hugged her a little tighter than usual.
"Text me when you get home," he said.
"I will."
"And if you feel watched again, call me. I don't care what time it is."
She smiled softly. "Okay."
The air outside had cooled slightly.
Streetlights flickered on. Traffic hummed steadily.
Lara decided to walk a short distance before calling a ride. The evening helped clear her head.
She replayed the café conversation in her mind.
Maybe Tunde was right.
Maybe she was connecting dots that didn't exist.
She turned a corner—
And walked straight into someone.
Her bag slipped from her shoulder.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"
Strong hands caught her arms before she lost balance.
Steady.
Warm.
Familiar.
Her breath stalled.
She looked up.
And her heart dropped.
It was him.
Up close, he looked different from the boardroom. Less distant. More real. But those eyes were the same.
Focused.
Intent.
For a second, neither of them moved.
"I apologize," he said calmly. His voice was deeper than she remembered. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
That wasn't true.
He had been watching her.
She swallowed. "It's fine. I should've been paying attention."
He released her slowly, but not abruptly. Like he was deliberately controlling the movement.
Her pulse was racing again.
Not from fear.
From something else.
"What are the odds," she said lightly, trying to regain composure, "running into my boss's boss outside the office?"
A faint flicker crossed his expression. Almost amusement.
"You work in branding," he said.
It wasn't a question.
She blinked. "Yes."
"I remember."
The words were simple.
But they landed heavier than they should have.
Of course he remembered. She walked into his meeting.
That didn't mean anything.
Right?
"Well," she said, adjusting her bag strap, "I'll let you get back to wherever you were heading."
For a brief moment, something in his posture shifted.
Like he wanted to say something more.
But he didn't.
"Have a safe evening, Lara."
Her name.
He said it carefully.
She nodded. "You too."
She walked past him, forcing herself not to look back.
She made it halfway down the street before she allowed herself a breath.
Why did that feel—
She turned slightly.
He was still standing there.
Watching her.
Not in a threatening way.
Not moving.
Just watching.
And for the first time, the feeling of being observed didn't feel imagined.
It felt real.