Back at home, I locked the door with every bolt and walked over to the window.
He was still there. Standing in the shadows, smoking, and looking up – as if he knew exactly which window I was watching him from.
A smirk curled on his lips again. Then he slowly turned and disappeared into the darkness.
The room felt too quiet. I exhaled slowly, sinking down onto the bed.
– What the hell is going on?
That was the only thought stuck in my head. First, the man outside my building. Then that oddly friendly Lucas. And now this bold, smug stranger.
I reached for my phone, nearly typed a message to Sophia… but stopped. What could I even say?
– Hey, I'm being stalked by suspiciously hot and slightly terrifying men. Got any advice?
Hilarious. But for some reason, tonight didn't feel funny at all. The night promised to be long. And these strange encounters… were clearly turning into my new normal.
The next few days flew by without incident – lectures at the university, short reports from the city streets, long hours editing videos in the cramped office, and endless cups of coffee.
The world seemed to be pretending to be normal again, and I was happily playing along.
After a particularly dull journalism history class – where the professor once again droned about "integrity and impartiality" (that almost never existed in real life) – I headed to my part-time job.
The newsroom, as always, was in a state of controlled chaos.
Someone was running around with flash drives, someone was yelling into a phone about a missed segment, and Jenny – our editor – was trying to figure out who left an empty donut box on her desk.
– Liza, – she called out the moment she saw me, – I need that report by five. If this falls through again, I swear I'll unleash a personal apocalypse right here.
– Already on my way to save the world, – I grinned and quickly dropped into my editing chair, trying to sort through the mess of cables and random files.
Minutes passed lazily. The voices of coworkers faded into background noise.
I was so deep into my work, I didn't immediately notice someone walk up to my desk and stop.
– These city events all feel the same, don't they?
The voice was unexpectedly close. I flinched and looked up. A man stood beside me.
Looked to be in his thirties. Tall. Slightly hunched. Tired expression, like he hadn't slept properly in years.
Thin-framed glasses. Light brown hair tied back in a low ponytail.
At first glance – your standard tech guy. The kind we had dozens of: invisible, a little worn down by life and endless routine.
– Uh… yeah, something like that, – I replied, trying to remember where I might've seen him before. – Are you from IT?
He smiled faintly, just the corners of his mouth – but his gaze stayed serious. Focused.
Weirdly focused.
– Something like that. I'm not usually on this floor, but today they asked me to help with some cabling. Something broke on the third floor.
His voice was unexpectedly deep – like it echoed inside my head. And I realized I was getting just a bit nervous.
– That's rough, – I said with a crooked smile. – Things break all the time around here. This office runs on duct tape and desperate prayers.
He chuckled softly. And in that moment, I caught something strange in his eyes. Like he was reading me. Like a book. It was unsettling. A little too intense.
– I noticed, – he said quietly. – This whole place runs on a thin thread.
– That's… philosophical, – I tried to laugh, hiding the tension growing in my shoulders. – So, what's your name?
– Ethan, – he tilted his head slightly. – And you're Liza, right?
I tensed without meaning to, raising an eyebrow.
– Lucky guess, or did you peek somewhere?
– Overheard, – he admitted easily. – Your name gets mentioned more than anyone else's around here. Usually something like "Liza's late again" or "Where the hell is Liza's segment?"
– Wow, thanks for the honesty, – I smirked. – No wonder you look exhausted. Listening to my disasters all day must be hard.
– Actually… it's interesting, – he adjusted his glasses. – People who get talked about that much usually aren't as boring as they try to seem.
I felt my cheeks warm slightly and quickly turned away, pretending to check the video files again.
– Looks like you've still got a lot of work, – Ethan stepped back slightly, maybe noticing my embarrassment. – See you around?
– If something breaks again – definitely, – I smiled.
– Judging by this place? That'll be any minute now.
He walked off casually. But I watched him go for a long time. Just another tech guy? Editor? Background staff? Maybe.
But that voice… that look… He was something else. I shook my head, trying to shake the weird feeling. And got back to editing.
That evening, when I finally left the office, the streets were already draped in soft shadows.
The air smelled like coolness and blooming something.
I walked home slowly. But instead of thinking about upcoming reports or student stress, one voice echoed in my mind:
– People who get talked about usually aren't as boring as they pretend to be.
Maybe I really had become someone people talked about. And maybe… that suddenly mattered more than I thought.
After talking to Ethan, work felt easier. Like someone flipped a switch inside me. I finished the segment ahead of schedule, and Jenny looked at me like I'd grown a second head.
– Liza, either you've started taking performance enhancers, or this is your sneaky way of begging for a raise, – she joked while reviewing the finished clip.
– Sometimes I just remember we're actually supposed to work here, – I shrugged.
Jenny snorted, leaning back in her chair.
– You know what? Here's your chance to rack up more karma points. There's a city festival next week. I want a report from the scene. Can you handle it?
– Absolutely, – I answered instantly.
The more segments I delivered, the higher my chances of shedding the "eternal intern" label and finally landing a real job. A real salary.
Jenny smiled, waving me off.
– Fine, get out of here. As long as you don't break another camera, you might just win the hearts of our investors.
– I'll pin that to my desktop, – I muttered, grabbing my bag.
Outside, I breathed in the warm evening air.
The sun hadn't set yet – gold and crimson rays painted the city in soft colors, making everything feel oddly comforting.
Moments like these made all the exhaustion from school and side jobs feel a bit less heavy.
I decided to walk home. And halfway there, my phone rang. I smiled at the screen. Sophia.
– Hey, Soph. What's up?
– Disaster, – she sighed dramatically. – Our econ professor said if I don't turn in my essay by Friday, he'll stop pretending he knows my name.
– Harsh. Did he finally notice you're always on your phone?
– Very funny, Liza. Anyway, do you even remember what lectures this essay's supposed to be based on?
– Sometimes I wonder how you even got into college, – I laughed. – I'll send you my notes later, chill.
– You saved me from disgrace, – Sophia declared theatrically. – Also, do you ever not work? You're always filming or chasing professors.
– If all goes well, I'll be chasing a full-time paycheck after graduation, – I said dreamily.
– So ambitious, – she mocked, but I knew she was rooting for me. – Okay, send the pics. And please buy real food for once. You can't live on coffee and donuts forever.
I hung up, smiling, and ducked into a small supermarket a few blocks from home.
It was busy with evening shoppers: someone picking through sad-looking veggies, someone arguing with kids about candy, someone just wandering the aisles aimlessly.
I passed the bread aisle and headed to the cereal section. Breakfast without coffee and something sweet was unthinkable.
I was just about to grab a box of my favorite chocolate stars when someone else's hand casually picked up the last one right from under my nose.
I blinked and looked up. Tall man. Very serious expression. Short blond hair, tired but calm face.
He examined the box like its nutritional value would decide the fate of humanity.
Then he turned slightly – like he'd only just noticed me standing there.
– You were going for this one, right? – he said quietly.
His voice was deep. Level. Zero emotion.
I squinted at him. There was something… familiar about him. Those eyes. That cold, almost detached look. And a flicker of unease stirred inside me.
– Actually, yeah, – I said, keeping my tone light. – But no worries, I'm not starting a cereal war. It's just breakfast.
He raised a brow slightly, like my answer surprised him. Then held out the box.
– Take it. I don't mind.
– Then why were you studying it so hard?
– I'm always mindful of details, – he said evenly. His gaze still hadn't left me. It was as if he was searching for something.
Something more than a random chat over cereal.
– Kinda deep for a supermarket conversation, – I tried to joke.
– Maybe.
– Adrian, – he added, with a slight nod. – Have a good evening, Liza.
I froze. I hadn't said my name. My heart skipped. I turned quickly. But he was already walking away. Not looking back.
How does he know my name?
I stood there, clutching the cereal box so tight the cardboard bent. That flicker of anxiety flared again. Sharper now. I paid and walked out, scanning the crowd. But the stranger had already vanished.
– This isn't funny anymore, – I muttered, picking up my pace.
These "coincidences" were definitely starting to feel… intentional.