Waiting. Plotting. And this time, no one would see him coming.
He hadn’t slept all night. It gnawed at him – still did.
Who could it be?
Maya. It had to be her.
She was the only thing different.
The only one who refused him. Repeatedly.
He licked his lips, heart pounding with rage- and something darker.
He’d spent months laying the groundwork. Playing the long game.
Watching her boundaries tighten every time he pushed. Her careful no’s. Her soft rejections.
Her eyes when she looked through him – like he wasn’t even worth a second of her fear.
She should’ve been begging me.
Instead, she looked at me like I was a nobody. Like I didn’t deserve her attention.
And still, he couldn’t forget her voice.
Thank you, Doctor. That soft, polite tone.
That single moment – her brushing her hair behind her ear, lips parting slightly in gratitude – had burned itself into his memory.
He’d twisted it. Warped it. Until it meant something else entirely.
She had no idea what she’d started.
But soon, she would.
Because he wasn’t gone. Not yet.
The bell above the café door had long stopped chiming by the time Maya finally untied her apron.
Sunday shifts were always brutal, but today had been relentless. A coworker had called in sick, and with the extra six hours she’d picked up, Maya had been on her feet for nearly fourteen straight. Her legs ached, her shoulders burned, and even her breath felt heavy in her chest as she stepped into the cool night air.
The sidewalks were quiet now. The streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement as Maya adjusted her worn backpack and began the long walk home. The city had its own rhythm at midnight – softer, but not silent. A few cars passed. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. The breeze carried the faint scent of oil and old asphalt.
She walked fast.
Her sneakers barely made a sound, but every few steps, she felt… something. A flicker of unease. Like eyes on her back.
She slowed once, turned subtly to glance behind her.
Nothing.
Just dark windows and empty sidewalks.
Still, her heartbeat quickened. The kind of quiet that felt too still. Her hands curled around the strap of her bag tighter.
Probably nothing.
Still, she quickened her pace.
When she finally reached her building, her hand shook as she unlocked the door. Once it clicked open, she slipped inside and turned the lock behind her, chest heaving as the silence of the hallway greeted her.
Safe. She was safe.
Inside the apartment, it was dim and peaceful. Jamie was already asleep, curled beneath his blankets in the room down the hall. His breathing was soft, steady. Maya let herself exhale.
On the small table by the kitchen, a covered plate waited beneath a neatly folded note.
Ms. Janice.
“Eat this while it’s still warm, sweetheart. You work too hard.” – J.
Maya smiled faintly. The warmth of the gesture almost made her cry.
She lifted the lid. Steamed vegetables and garlic chicken over rice. Her stomach growled, but the fatigue was heavier. She hadn’t eaten since a sandwich at lunch, but now even chewing felt like too much work.
Damien’s voice echoed in her head:
“Don’t be late Monday.”
She closed the lid again, slid the meal into the fridge.
No time for dinner.
She moved on autopilot – clearing stray clutter from the living room, preparing Jamie’s meds for the morning, lining up his vitamin bottles and water on the counter. She laid out his favorite hoodie in case it got cold, then checked the apartment door one more time before retreating to her tiny room.
The shower was quick and cold. Her eyes were half-closed by the time she dried off and crawled into bed.
It was almost 2 a.m.
Her body screamed for rest..
The alarm buzzed two hours later.
Maya’s eyes snapped open, heart pounding like she’d been yanked from deep underwater. Her body protested with every movement, but she rolled out of bed anyway, half-stumbling into the kitchen.
She made Jamie’s breakfast – scrambled eggs, toast, and a slice of apple. Her own breakfast was just a dry piece of toast she nibbled as she got dressed. By 6:45, she was almost ready to go.
Jamie emerged from his room, hair tousled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly, pouring him a glass of water. “I’m leaving in a bit. Don’t forget your meds, okay?”
“Okay,” he yawned. “You have classes after work?”
“Yeah. I won’t be back until late. Do you need more library books? I can stop by.”
He shook his head. “I still have three. But maybe a book on Python or something with code. That’d be cool.”
Maya chuckled. “Python or something with code. Got it.”
At 6:59, she kissed his forehead, grabbed her bag, and stepped out into the early dawn.
The sky was still a smoky gray, sun barely cresting the horizon.
She took two steps… and froze.
A dark vehicle idled across the street.
Then the driver’s door opened.
And Beckett stepped out.
Maya’s heart skipped. Her breath caught in her throat.
He shouldn’t be here.
How did he even know where she lived?
“Maya!” he called, like they were old friends meeting by chance on a morning stroll. “Good morning!”
She hesitated, brows drawing together.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.