LOST IN THE RAIN

THE STREET THAT FOLLOWED

The rain had slowed to a mist by the afternoon, but the air was still heavy and damp.

Sofia sat by the window with her sketchbook open, but her pencil barely moved.

Her mind kept going back to the man across the street.

The way he had looked at her.

The way he left — as if he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Ethan was in the bedroom, packing up some of his things. He had said he’d be leaving soon, but his tone had been strange, almost unsure.

When she heard the faint sound of his phone ringing again, she leaned closer to the window.

And there he was.

The same man. Standing at the corner now, pretending to read a newspaper.

Her heart thudded. She grabbed her hoodie, slipped it on, and stepped outside before she could think twice.

The damp air wrapped around her as she crossed the street. The man didn’t move until she was only a few steps away.

“You’re not very good at hiding,” she said.

He looked up from the paper, his eyes calm, almost cold. “I’m not hiding.”

“Then what do you call standing in the same spot for hours?”

He folded the paper slowly, tucking it under his arm. “Watching.”

Her skin prickled. “Watching who?”

He gave her a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ethan. And now you.”

She took a step back. “Why?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask him. If he tells you.”

Before she could speak again, he walked away, his steps quiet on the wet pavement. She stood there, staring after him, her pulse racing.

When she got back inside, Ethan was standing in the middle of the living room. His eyes locked on her damp hoodie, then the street behind her.

“Where were you?”

“Out,” she said, dropping her sketchbook on the table. “Do you want to tell me why someone is watching us?”

His jaw clenched. “You talked to him?”

“Of course I did! Who is he?”

Instead of answering, Ethan ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “You shouldn’t have gone outside.”

“You’re not my keeper, Ethan. And I’m not blind. Something’s going on, and I’m in it whether you like it or not.”

He stopped pacing, his back to her. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “That man… isn’t someone you want to know.”

“Too late,” she whispered. “I already do.”

Ethan turned then, and for the first time since she’d met him, she saw it — the c***k in his calm, the shadow of something much darker hiding just behind his eyes.