Chapter 5
1110 Words
CHAPTER 5
She didn’t breathe properly until she reached the road and hailed a taxi.
The second the door slammed shut behind her, she locked it immediately, even though he hadn’t followed her outside.
Even though he hadn’t tried to stop her.
Even though part of her knew he never would.
That was the problem.
Everything about him felt controlled.
Intentional.
Like he didn’t chase because he already believed she would return on her own.
And somehow, that confidence irritated her more than obsession itself.
She gripped the card and purse tightly, staring straight ahead.
Then her phone rang again.
Chloe.
This time, she answered.
“Well?” Chloe demanded immediately. “Are you alive?”
She let out a shaky breath.
“Unfortunately.”
“That bad?”
She laughed once, nervous and humourless.
“You know what’s terrifying?”
“What?”
“He doesn’t act crazy.”
Silence.
Then,
“Ava...”
“I’m serious.” She leaned her forehead briefly against the car seat. “If he was aggressive or weird or unstable, this would be easier.”
“But?”
“He acts…” She struggled for the word. “Certain.”
Chloe groaned loudly.
“Nope. I hate that already.”
“So do I.”
But even as she said it, his face flashed through her mind again.
Calm eyes.
Slow smirks.
That terrifying patience in his voice.
I remember everything about you.
She shut her eyes tightly.
God.
...
The next few days felt wrong and quiet.
No flowers arrived, no texts, no unknown calls.
Nothing.
And somehow the silence bothered her more than the attention did.
Because now she kept waiting for something.
Every morning at 7:03, her body naturally drifted toward the door before she could stop herself.
By the fourth day, she got angry at herself for noticing.
By the sixth, she started checking the hallway anyway.
Nothing.
No flowers, no cards, no sign of him.
Which should’ve made her feel relieved.
Instead, it felt like the pause before something bigger.
And she hated that thought immediately.
Because why was she thinking about him at all?
She should’ve blocked the number, forgotten the entire situation and moved on.
But instead, she found herself replaying conversations she never wanted to remember.
I noticed you first.
I stayed away from you for years.
I remember everything about you.
No matter how hard she tried, his voice stayed in her head.
Low.
Calm.
Too sure.
It irritated her enough that by Friday night, she finally left her apartment just to clear her mind.
The city air felt colder than usual as she walked toward the art district downtown.
This part of the city always relaxed her; music spilling from small bars, painted walls glowing under neon signs, artists laughing on sidewalks at midnight like sleep was optional.
It felt real here.
Messy in a comforting way.
Not polished and controlled like his world.
She stopped near one of the old brick walls she used to paint years ago, staring quietly at the faded remains of older murals.
A soft smile graced her lips.
Then,
“You disappeared.”
Her entire body tensed.
That voice.
She turned immediately.
And there he was.
Standing a few feet away like he belonged in the shadows behind her.
Dark hoodie. Black jeans. Hands in his pockets.
Watching her.
Always watching her.
Her pulse jumped painfully hard.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped.
One side of his mouth lifted slightly.
“That’s usually your opening line now.”
“You followed me?”
“No.”
“That’s not believable.”
“It’s still true.”
She folded her arms tightly.
“Then why are you here?”
His eyes flickered briefly toward the wall behind her.
“You are.”
Her stomach tightened annoyingly fast.
God, she hated the way he answered questions.
“You stopped sending flowers.”
“You noticed.”
“That’s not the point.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“It kind of is.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said softly, stepping slightly closer, “you still haven’t blocked me.”
Silence.
Because unfortunately he was right.
Again.
She hated how observant he was.
Like every tiny reaction got stored somewhere inside him permanently.
“You know,” he murmured, glancing toward the wall art again, “this was always my favourite area.”
She frowned slightly.
“You come here?”
“I used to.”
Something about his tone made her look at him harder.
And suddenly, she realized something strange.
He looked different here; less controlled, though still dangerous and unreadable.
But softer around the edges somehow.
Like this place belonged to a version of him nobody else knew.
“You really like art?” she asked before thinking.
His gaze returned to her slowly.
“I really like yours.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
Every single conversation with him felt like walking into something she couldn’t predict.
“That’s not normal.”
“I know.”
“You keep admitting that like it’s charming.”
“No.” His eyes held hers steadily. “I admit it because I don’t like lying to you.”
The honesty hit harder than flirting would have.
And for one terrifying second, she understood exactly why someone like him was dangerous.
Because manipulation was easier to fight.
But sincerity?
Sincerity made people hesitate.
A group of people passed nearby laughing loudly, briefly breaking the tension between them.
She used the distraction to step back.
“I should go.”
“You probably should.”
That answer threw her off immediately.
“You’re agreeing?”
His mouth curved slightly.
“If I ask you to stay, you’ll leave faster.”
Annoyingly, he was right again.
She hated that.
“You think you know me so well.”
“I do know you well.”
“No, you know versions of me you created in your head.”
Something shifted slightly in his expression then.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
“You think I made you up?”
The question caught her off guard.
“I think you’re obsessed with an idea.”
His gaze stayed on hers for a long moment.
Then he smiled again.
But this one looked different.
Smaller.
Almost disappointed.
“That would honestly be easier.”
Before she could respond, a voice suddenly interrupted behind them.
“Ava?”
She froze instantly.
Because she recognized that voice immediately.
Her ex.
And judging by the way the man in front looked annoyed, so did he.
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