I think someone has been watching me lately. Every day, a strange, anonymous letter arrives in my mailbox, filled with the sender's inner thoughts. At first, I thought someone had the wrong address, but things gradually took a sinister turn. The letters started mentioning details of my private life, and this person seemed to know me intimately. It felt as though... they were living in my house with me. 1 "The spicy beef stew you made this weekend looked delicious." "Were you up late yesterday? Binge-watching a show or something? I saw your lights were on until 1:00 AM. Make sure you take care of your health." "Haha, with a body as great as yours, it's a shame to wear those childish kitten panties. This is what suits you best. Wear it for me after your shower tonight, okay?" Along with that letter came a set of sheer, provocative lingerie. I couldn't take it anymore. Disgusted and terrified, I shredded the lingerie with scissors, threw it in the trash, and decided to quit my job and move. "Mr. Vance, this is my resignation letter. Please take a look," I said. "What's wrong?" Arthur Vance asked. He was my boss—young, successful, and someone I could learn a lot from. If it weren't for this unknown creep stalking me, I would never have given up the opportunity to work at his company. "Um... I'm planning to move back to my hometown," I lied. I had no intention of telling him the truth; the fewer people who knew, the better. In reality, the stalking had me terrified. This person seemed to know everything. If I made a scene and alerted them, they might become enraged, and my life could be in danger. Slipping away quietly was the best plan. "Alright, but I hope you can give us one week to hand over your projects smoothly." I naturally agreed. I could use that time to find a new job and a new apartment in a different part of the city. What I didn't know then was that this final week was about to turn my life upside down. 2 On the first day after I submitted my resignation, Mark Reynolds started acting strange. He was my co-worker, sitting right next to my cubicle, and was universally recognized as the office golden boy—handsome, charismatic, and highly competent. He started chatting with me constantly, almost as if he were trying to fish for information... He also began dropping not-so-subtle hints that he liked me. One day, when no one was looking, he explicitly slid his hand onto my thigh. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked coldly, immediately rolling my chair far away from him. "Nothing. Maybe it's because you're leaving soon, but you look especially captivating today," Mark smiled, and it made my skin crawl. "Are you out of your mind?" He completely ruined my mood. During lunch, I vented to two female co-workers about it, but they didn't believe me at all. "What? Chloe, stop making things up. Mark is so nice to everyone, and he's practically a saint. How could he possibly do that?" They exchanged a look, as if accusing me of trying to take advantage of the office heartthrob. They didn't even bother to hide the disdain in their eyes. Right, I thought. I'm leaving anyway. There's no need for them to pretend to be friendly anymore. It was chilling. They nonchalantly changed the subject, chatting away while I sat in silence. I finished my food quickly, made an excuse, and left. I had been at this company for almost a year, and we had always laughed and talked during lunch. I honestly thought we were friends. The very next day, rumors about me and Mark spread like wildfire through the office. They were saying that I was trying to hook up with him before I left. "Hey, did you hear? The real reason Chloe is quitting is because Mark rejected her. She got so mad she started spreading rumors that he touched her thigh!" Who was spreading these lies? When I saw the two girls I had lunch with whispering with a crowd in the breakroom—and noticing how they avoided eye contact with me all day—I knew exactly who it was. Riding on the privilege of his "nice guy" face, Mark grew even more smug. Using a voice only I could hear, he leaned in and said: "Those two girls came running to me yesterday, asking if I touched your thigh. Did you really think I'd admit it? You can see whose words carry more weight around here." "If you had just been a good girl and let me feel you up, you wouldn't be dealing with all this trash talk today." I didn't speak, nor did I look at him. I just kept a cold face and pounded aggressively on my keyboard. I knew clearly that no matter how angry I was, causing a scene right now was unwise, even though I wasn't the one who started it. People only hear what they want to hear, and the more scandalous and dirty the gossip, the better. Looks like I'd just have to count the days until Friday. 3 I never expected my reputation to be entirely destroyed in my final week. It felt like everyone's attitude toward me shifted overnight, all because Mark touched my thigh. On the bright side, the creepy stalker hadn't sent another letter. I thought with bitter irony, This guy is surprisingly "considerate," knowing I'm in a bad mood and choosing not to bother me. Fortunately, most of my projects were wrapping up and didn't require much collaboration. I only needed Mr. Vance's signature on a few things. He treated me exactly the same as always. When he heard the rumors, he even reprimanded the gossiping employees. "I know you're not that kind of person," he told me privately. Those few words moved me so much I almost cried. Because of that moment, a different, special kind of feeling began to bloom in my heart for him. With Arthur's strict orders, no one dared to gossip openly anymore, though their eyes still darted away when I walked by. I pretended not to notice. Just having some peace and quiet was a blessing. On the fourth day after my resignation, my handover was mostly complete. I had found a new apartment to share with my best friend, Sarah, on the completely opposite side of the city. With thirty minutes left until clock-out, I opened a chat window on my computer to vent to Sarah about the week's disasters. My neck was feeling stiff, so I stretched a little. As I tilted my head, my peripheral vision caught something that froze my blood. My heart practically stopped. Mark had turned his entire face toward me. His neck was craned forward, and he was staring dead-eyed at my computer screen. His gaze was hollow, completely devoid of focus. What... what the hell is that? Why is he looking like that? Has he always been staring at my screen? Why didn't I notice before...? I didn't dare turn my head to look at him directly, nor did I want to meet that dead stare. I pretended I hadn't noticed, typed a quick, irrelevant message to Sarah, and closed the chat. When I finally gathered the courage to glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he was acting completely normal, as if nothing had happened. For a second, I thought I was just being paranoid and hallucinating. "Chloe, why do you always attract the weirdos? Haha, it's okay! Once you move in with me this weekend, you won't have to worry!" Sarah texted my phone. Whether it was a stress-induced hallucination or not, it was better to be safe. Seeing my best friend's comforting words made me feel a lot better. Just a few more minutes until quitting time. Tomorrow was my last day. I just prayed nothing else would go wrong. 4 I came into the office today to pack up my desk, planning to leave before lunch. I was worried Mark might try something crazy again, but thankfully, he had called in sick. "Chloe, come here for a second," Arthur called me into his office. "What is it, Mr. Vance?" "I see you only have one bag to take with you. On your way out, could you do me a favor and drop these two boxes in the back storage room? Also... this is a personal gift from me, to thank you for everything you've done for the company over the past year." He pulled out a stunning, clearly expensive necklace. I wanted to decline, but the gift was exactly my style. I always loved wearing necklaces. After a moment of hesitation, I accepted it, planning to buy him a nice dinner and a return gift in the future. Besides, I had my own selfish motives. Maybe... this could lead to something more between us? "Thank you, Arthur. What kind of things do you like? I can't just take a gift without giving one back." He smiled and said we could talk about it later. Knowing he didn't like to dawdle, I didn't press the issue. I carried the two heavy boxes down the hall to the storage room and set them inside. Just as I was wondering what was so heavy inside them, the storage room door slammed shut behind me. The loud noise made me jump. I turned around and saw someone standing there. "Mark?" 5 "What... what is the meaning of this? What are you trying to do?" I asked, backing up. "I've liked you for a really long time. I was planning to reel you in slowly, but I didn't expect you to leave so soon." His eyes were bloodshot. He started taking off his jacket as he walked toward me. Seeing him like this, I knew I couldn't provoke him. "Then... then why didn't you just ask me out normally? You're a great guy, I definitely would have given you a chance. Why do this? You're just scaring me and pushing me away..." I pretended to be incredibly hurt, even squeezing out a few tears. In reality, my peripheral vision was frantically scanning the room for an escape route or a heavy object I could use as a weapon. Seeming to see right through me, Mark sneered maliciously: "Don't waste your energy. The only way out of here is the door behind me. No one ever comes down to this storage room. Let's get this over with quickly." Seeing I wasn't giving up, he added, "Oh, right, don't even think about calling the cops. I specifically walked through the camera blind spots to get here. Besides, after the rumors this week, whose side do you think the company is going to take?" I had no other options. I screamed for help at the top of my lungs while backing away, praying someone would hear me. But it was too late! Mark lunged forward, grabbed me, and began violently tearing at my clothes. BANG! The storage room door was kicked open! Before Mark could even react, a fist slammed into his face. The punch was brutal. I couldn't tell if it was just my imagination, but Arthur seemed to be taking out some serious personal rage. I didn't overthink it, though. I was saved. I was overjoyed. Arthur stood tall, looking down at Mark groveling on the floor, holding a digital audio recorder in his hand. "Mark, you're fired. Don't bother showing up on Monday. Also, the audio from this recorder is going into the company-wide chat right now. Get the hell out of my building." 6 "Arthur, you..." For a girl fighting to survive alone in a big city, how could my heart not flutter for a man who had protected me twice in a single week? "I was watching you leave from the upper floor and saw Mark hiding in the corner. Putting that together with the rumors he's been spreading about you, it didn't take a genius to figure out he was up to no good." He was watching me leave... Does he pay attention to me in secret too? Thinking about this, my schoolgirl crush was probably written all over my face. I couldn't stop my lips from curving upward. Arthur laughed. "Alright, stop grinning like an idiot. Since you don't work here anymore, you don't have to call me Mr. Vance. Call me Arthur." I remembered I had lied to him about moving back to my hometown. Seeing how I had kept my guard up against him made me feel guilty. "Um, actually, I didn't quit because I'm moving back home. I quit because..." "It's okay, I understand. People who resign always use 'moving back home' as an excuse. Let's go grab lunch." "But... it's still working hours." "I think you forgot something." "What?" "I own the company!" Arthur laughed brightly. I had only ever seen his serious, professional side. I never realized how charming he was outside of work. I think I was falling in love with him. 7 After that incident, Arthur and I grew close. He naturally confessed his feelings to me, and we started dating. The honeymoon phase lasted for several months, and I moved out of Sarah's place and into Arthur's luxury apartment. Lately, however, he seemed incredibly busy. While he was just as gentle and attentive as always, something was clearly distracting him. Whenever I asked, he would just smile and say it was nothing. My intuition told me he was hiding something. While he was in the shower, I secretly opened his phone. I was pinned to the top of his messages. The rest were just standard work chats—nothing suspicious. Just as I was convincing myself I was being paranoid, a text from an unsaved number popped up: Meet me at the old place tonight. My heart dropped. I put the phone back exactly where I found it. After forcing myself to calm down, I decided to follow him. If I caught him cheating red-handed, I'd dump him on the spot. "Chloe, I have to handle an emergency at work. I'll be sleeping late tonight," he said, smiling as he patted my head. I was stunned. How could he be so calm right before doing something so slimy? This obviously wasn't his first time. But I smiled and nodded, wearing my usual pajamas to avoid raising suspicion. The moment the front door closed, I threw on my coat and shoes. I was ready. We lived on the ninth floor. Through the peephole, I saw the elevator pass the seventh floor. I opened the door and bolted down the stairwell. Watching his retreating back from a distance, I had fully prepared myself mentally to beat him and his mistress up, then run out of the hotel crying.
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