Y/n notices him at the first corner. Just a man in a dark jacket, waiting on the opposite side of the street, not looking at anything in particular. Coincidence.

The second time, he's browsing the same aisle at a convenience store—three shelves over, never quite in her line of sight, but there. She pays for her water and leaves without looking back.

The third time, she stops pretending. She takes a sudden left into a narrow alley, loops around a dumpster, and emerges onto a parallel street. She walks a full block before glancing over her shoulder.

He's there. Same distance. Same unhurried pace. Dark jacket, hands in pockets, face half-hidden beneath the brim of a cap.

Her pulse picks up. She tells herself not to run. Running looks like guilt, and she has nothing to be guilty about. But her feet start moving faster anyway, weaving through the crowd, past a busker with a cracked guitar case, past a couple arguing outside a takeout place. She cuts across the street at the last second, earning a screech of brakes and a shouted curse from a delivery driver.

When she reaches the opposite sidewalk, she riskes a glance behind her.

He's still there.

The traffic light has turned red between them, and he's stopped on the other side, waiting. Calm. Patient. Like he has all the time in the world.

Y/n's mouth goes dry. She scans the street, looking for an out—a subway entrance, a cab, a crowd thick enough to disappear into. Nothing. Just a row of storefronts, a bank, and a small café with a few tables spilling onto the sidewalk.

Outside the café, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers, is a man who looks like every bad decision her mother ever warned her about. Dark hair falling into his eyes. Tattoos crawling down both arms. A silver chain catching the light. He's not looking at anything in particular, either. Just existing, with the kind of bored, unhurried energy that suggests he's been here for a while and plans to stay longer.

The man on the other side of the street steps forward as the light changes.

Y/n moves before she can think.