His Silent Obsession.

Chapter 3 — The Man She Hit

Tiana’s POV:

The first thing I felt was irritation.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Just… irritation.

I shoved the airbag away from my face with a quiet groan, blinking a few times as my vision adjusted.

My chest hurt, my head felt slightly off, and my ears were still ringing from the impact.

But I was fine.

Alive.

Annoyed.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me." I muttered under my breath.

I unbuckled my seatbelt quickly and pushed the car door open, stepping out into the street like I hadn’t just crashed into someone.

The night air hit me immediately.

I inhaled deeply, trying to reset my breathing.

Okay.

Fine.

Whatever.

I straightened, brushing my hands down my clothes out of habit, then looked up.

And immediately spotted the other car.

Of course it had to be an expensive car.

Low frame. Clean finish. Dark, polished, and untouched by anything except now—

me.

I winced slightly at the damage, then exhaled.

“f**k…Great. Just great.”

I rolled my shoulders back, already preparing myself.

Because I knew what came next.

The driver comes out.

They yell.

They complain.

They make it dramatic.

And then I deal with it.

That’s how it always goes.

I crossed my arms loosely, waiting.

The driver’s door opened.

And then...he stepped out.

Everything didn’t freeze.

But it slowed.

Just slightly.

He didn’t rush.

Didn’t slam the door.

Didn’t even look at me immediately.

He closed the door gently, like the situation didn’t require urgency, then glanced once at the damage before lifting his gaze.

To me.

And holding it.

I frowned.

That wasn’t normal.

“…You’re not going to say anything?” I asked.

Nothing.

He just looked at me.

Not blankly.

Not confused.

Just… watching.

Like I was something he was trying to understand.

And I didn’t like that.

I shifted my weight slightly, irritation rising.

“Look, if you’re waiting for an apology,” I said, my tone already defensive, “i'm not the right person to give you one."

Still nothing.

I let out a short laugh. “Wow. Okay. Silent type. That’s new.”

His eyes didn’t move.

Didn’t flicker.

Didn’t react.

And somehow, that made it worse.

“…You’re making this weird.” I added.

No response.

I exhaled sharply, dropping my arms. “Are you going to speak or just stand there staring at me?”

Finally—

he spoke.

“You’re not hurt.”

I blinked.

"No?"

That was not what I expected.

Not even close.

A brief pause.

Then—

“Good.”

That was it.

I stared at him.

“…That’s all you have to say?”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering something, but instead of answering...he just kept looking.

Not at the car.

Not at the damage.

At me.

My tone.

My posture.

The fact that I wasn’t apologizing.

The fact that I wasn’t nervous.

The fact that I wasn’t backing down.

Like he was noticing everything at once.

I folded my arms again, this time tighter. “You know, most people would be yelling right now.”

“I’m not most people.”

His voice was low.

Controlled.

Too controlled.

I scoffed lightly. “Yeah, I can see that.”

A pause stretched between us.

Uncomfortable.

Heavy.

I gestured toward the cars. “So what now? You just going to stand there and pretend this didn’t happen?”

His gaze shifted briefly to the damage, then back to me.

“No.”

“But you’re not doing anything about it.”

“I will.”

I frowned. “When?”

A beat.

“Later.”

I stared at him.

“You have to be joking.”

He didn’t react.

Which somehow made it worse.

I huffed, shaking my head. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

Silence.

“You drive like that often?”

My expression hardened. “Excuse me?”

“Reckless.”

I took a step closer without thinking. “I wasn’t being reckless.”

“You didn’t see the car.”

“I saw it.”

“Late.”

I stared at him, irritation flaring. “Okay, first of all—”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t interrupt.

Just watched.

Again.

That same steady, unreadable gaze.

And now it felt weird.

Like he was picking me apart without saying a word.

“…You don’t even know me,” I continued, my voice sharper now. “So don’t start acting like you do.”

“I don’t need to.”

I blinked.

“Wow.”

A pause.

Longer this time.

The tension shifted.

Not loud.

Not aggressive.

Just… present.

Awareness.

I broke eye contact first.

Because his gaze was starting to feel like too much.

I turned slightly, glancing back at my car. "This is already a mess.”

I walked back toward it, grabbing my phone from the seat and checking the screen briefly before locking it again.

When I turned back and he was still there.

Same place.

Same posture.

Still watching.

Like he hadn’t moved at all.

Like he didn’t need to.

“…Are you done?” I asked.

A pause.

“Yes.”

That was it.

No demands.

No consequences.

Nothing.

I frowned. “That’s it? You’re just letting me go?”

“Yes.”

“…Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Why not?"

I let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “I literally hit your car.”

“Yes.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“It does.”

“Then act like it.”

Another pause.

“I am.”

That answer didn’t make sense.

At all.

And somehow, that irritated me more than anything else.

I stared at him for a second longer, trying to figure him out—and failing.

“…You’re weird,” I said finally.

No response.

Of course.

I rolled my eyes, turning back toward my car. “Whatever. Fix your car or something.”

I got in, shutting the door harder than necessary.

The engine started.

The sound broke the silence.

Good.

I gripped the wheel, exhaling once before pulling away.

I didn’t look at him.

Didn’t want to.

But as I drove off, I felt it.

That gaze.

Still there.

Still watching.

Like I hadn’t just left.

Like he was still… seeing me.

I drove faster than I should have.

Not because I needed to.

But because I needed to shake the feeling.

The weirdness.

The silence.

The way he looked at me like I was something—

interesting.