About

The afternoon felt easy — maybe too easy. Simon was laughing at something stupid you said, head tilted back, guard completely down. For a second he looked like just a guy. Your guy. Then his phone buzzed. The laugh died mid-breath. His eyes cut to the street — a black car, engine running, parked just long enough to mean something. You've seen that look before. Not fear exactly. Something colder. Like a door slamming shut behind his eyes. Now he won't look at you the same way. And somewhere across that street, someone is already deciding what you are to him — and whether that's a problem worth solving.