Watching From Afar
983 Words
Amara started noticing a pattern she didn’t like.
Not because it was obvious.
But because it wasn’t.
And that was worse.
At University of Lagos, mornings were usually predictable—noise, movement, chaos dressed as routine.
But lately, something kept breaking that routine.
Silence.
Not natural silence.
The kind that arrived before something important happened.
“Amara,” Zara said one morning, chewing loudly on a snack, “you’re doing that thing again.”
Amara didn’t look up from her phone. “What thing?”
“The thinking thing.”
“I always think.”
“No,” Zara said seriously. “You’re thinking about him.”
Amara finally looked up. “I am not.”
Zara raised a brow.
Amara sighed. “Why would I think about someone I barely know?”
Zara leaned closer. “Because he barely knows you too… but somehow knows your schedule better than your lecturer.”
Amara froze slightly.
“…That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
The first twist came that same day.
Amara had a free period.
She decided to go to the library early.
She always did.
Or at least—she thought she always did.
But when she arrived, the librarian looked at her strangely.
“You’re early today,” the woman said.
Amara blinked. “I always come around this time.”
The librarian frowned slightly.
“That’s not what the other gentleman said.”
Amara paused.
“…What gentleman?”
The librarian pointed toward the reading section.
Amara turned.
Empty tables.
Quiet shelves.
No one.
She frowned. “There’s no one here.”
The librarian hesitated.
Then shrugged. “Maybe I was mistaken.”
But Amara didn’t move.
Because something about that answer didn’t feel like a mistake.
The second twist came later that afternoon.
Amara was walking back from class when she saw it.
A student arguing near the faculty gate.
Loud.
Angry.
Security nearby but not interfering.
The student was shouting at a cleaner.
Amara frowned and slowed down.
Before she could decide whether to ignore it—
The shouting stopped abruptly.
Not naturally.
Instantly.
Like someone had pressed pause on reality.
Amara frowned.
The student had gone silent.
Not because he was calm.
But because he was staring at something behind her.
Amara turned slowly.
Damien Russo stood there.
Still.
Hands in pockets.
Expression blank.
But the atmosphere had changed completely.
The student swallowed hard.
Immediately stepped back.
“No problem,” he muttered quickly. “It’s nothing.”
Then he walked away fast.
Too fast.
Amara blinked.
“…What just happened?”
Damien didn’t look at her immediately.
Instead, his eyes stayed on the direction the student left.
Cold.
Measuring.
Then he spoke quietly.
“People should learn restraint.”
Amara frowned. “Did you threaten him?”
“No.”
“That was definitely a yes.”
Silence.
Then he looked at her.
“You were watching.”
“I couldn’t avoid it.”
A pause.
His gaze lingered slightly longer than usual.
“You watch too much.”
“You appear too much,” she shot back.
For a second—
Something like amusement flickered in his eyes.
But it disappeared quickly.
The third twist was worse.
That evening, Zara was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Amara noticed immediately.
“Zara?”
Zara didn’t respond at first.
Then sighed.
“…Someone asked about you.”
Amara frowned. “Who?”
Zara hesitated.
“A guy.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “That’s not new.”
“No,” Zara said slowly. “This one was different.”
Amara stopped walking. “Different how?”
Zara lowered her voice. “He asked about your class schedule. Your hostel. Your movement routes.”
Silence.
Amara blinked. “That’s creepy.”
“I know.”
“Did you tell him anything?”
Zara shook her head quickly. “No. I’m not stupid.”
Amara frowned deeply. “What did he look like?”
Zara hesitated again.
“Tall. Always wearing dark clothes. Quiet voice.”
Amara felt something tighten in her chest.
“…Did he say his name?”
Zara swallowed.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then—
“Damien Russo.”
Silence.
The air around them felt different suddenly.
Heavier.
Amara’s mind refused to process it immediately.
“…That’s impossible,” she said finally.
Zara shook her head. “I thought so too.”
Amara laughed once—short, nervous. “So what, he asked about me through you?”
Zara hesitated.
“No.”
Amara frowned. “Then?”
Zara looked away.
“He already knew everything.”
Silence dropped completely.
That night, Amara couldn’t sleep.
Because the idea didn’t make sense.
Damien Russo didn’t need people to ask questions.
He already had answers.
But why her?
Why would someone like him care about her routine?
Her life?
Her movements?
It didn’t fit.
None of it did.
Across town, Damien stood in a dim room, staring at a digital map on his desk.
Several routes highlighted.
Amara’s routes.
Ethan’s voice came from behind him.
“You’re mapping her life now?”
Damien didn’t look away.
“I’m not mapping.”
Ethan sighed. “That’s literally mapping.”
Silence.
Then Damien spoke quietly.
“She’s being watched.”
Ethan frowned. “By who?”
A pause.
Damien’s jaw tightened slightly.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
Ethan studied him carefully.
“And in the meantime?”
Damien finally turned slightly.
His expression was colder than usual.
“In the meantime,” he said, “she stays alive.”
Silence.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
“You’re getting attached.”
Damien didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“No.”
But even as he said it…
His eyes returned to her file.
Longer than necessary.
And for the first time—
Damien Russo wasn’t sure if he was protecting Amara…
…or already belonging to her story.
- Writer
