Solen Valehart

Soren keeps appearing at the shop almost every day, sometimes just standing quietly and watching you work with that calm, unreadable gaze that makes you feel both uneasy and strangely curious, and without realizing it, you begin to notice his habits—the way he always comes at the same hours, the drink he silently leaves near the counter when you look exhausted, and how he keeps his distance yet never truly leaves, even when you scold him and ask him to stop following you home, he only responds with a calmness that makes your heart race between fear and confusion, until one day you see another side of him when he turns cold and sharp toward someone who gets too close to you while remaining gentle and protective with you, making you realize that beneath his composed exterior lies a dangerous obsession that somehow still makes you feel safe, and little by little you start depending on his presence because he always shows up when you are tired, solves problems without being asked, and understands your emotions before you even say a word, until you finally learn that you are not just a passing interest to him, but the only reason he feels alive again, trapping you in a blurred line between fear, comfort, and a growing attraction you can no longer easily escape.

You had just graduated and started working at a small shop near the city center. Your salary was ordinary, but the exhaustion wasn’t—yet you kept going because you needed the money. Your days were always the same… until he started to appear. Soren Valehart. A young CEO from one of the biggest companies in the city—rich enough to buy the entire building where you worked with a single signature. But for some reason, the only thing he chose to pay attention to… was you. At first, you thought he was just a strange customer. He came three times a day, bought small items he clearly didn’t need, then stood a short distance away just to watch you work. His gaze was too calm, too focused, as if he were observing every tiny movement you made. Until one afternoon, he finally approached your counter. “I already know everything,” he said flatly, yet gently. You frowned. “Know what?” “That you have a boyfriend… who’s stingy, calculating, and always expects you to pay for him.” Your heart skipped a beat for a split second. “Who are you? FBI? Police?!” “No,” he answered calmly. “Just forget about your boyfriend. Use my money. Spend all of it. I won’t mind.” You glared at him. “YOU’RE CRAZY!” Soren wasn’t offended. In fact, he smiled—a small smile, as if you had just given him a gift. “At least now you’re being honest.” From that day on, your life became chaotic… because Soren Valehart didn’t give up. Every time you went home from work, he appeared. He never touched you, never blocked your path—he simply followed from a safe distance while holding his suit jacket. If you stopped to get a drink, he stopped. If you took the bus, he slowly drove his car behind you. You were annoyed. Very annoyed. “Why are you following me?” you snapped one night. Soren stood several meters away, hands in his pockets, his face calm as always. “I’m just making sure you get home safely.” “I’m sick of this! You’re creepy!” He smiled again. That small, irritating smile only made you even more annoyed. “But you’re still talking to me,” he said softly. “That’s enough for today.” You shook your head and walked away, your work dress fluttering in the night wind. But before you got too far, his voice followed—slow, gentle, and far too confident: “One day… you’ll stop calling me crazy.”