Her house was just a block away. The blue door. The little flower pot. So close—but suddenly so far.
The man was almost beside her now. The air felt heavy, like it had lost its oxygen. She could feel him—his shadow, his presence—right next to her.
She didn’t dare look up. Her eyes stayed fixed on her feet.
Then she saw them.
Black polished shoes stepping into her path.
They stopped.
A voice broke the silence. Deep. Rough.
“Emma?”
Her name.
That changed everything.
Fear twisted into something sharper—anger, confusion. How did he know her name?
Emma lifted her head. Her wide eyes met his shadowed face. Beneath the hat, his eyes were dark, empty—like they swallowed all light.
He didn’t move. Just stared.
A second passed. Then another.
Instead of running or crying, Emma did something unexpected.
She turned fully to face him, lifting her chin with a quiet, trembling defiance.
“Who do you think you are, following me like this?”
The man stiffened slightly, caught off guard. Silence stretched between them again.
Emma didn’t back down, though her body trembled.
Finally, he moved, slipping a gloved hand into his coat. Emma held her breath, ready to run.
But he pulled out a small package.