~Ethan's POV
I saw her that morning.
The same woman whose car I had fixed a few nights ago. I noticed her through the window of the building across from mine, standing just behind the curtain like she believed the thin fabric was enough to hide her. She leaned forward slightly, careful but curious, her eyes fixed on my place. Watching me. Studying me.
I felt it instantly, that familiar tightening in my chest.
I hated being watched.
Attention always felt invasive to me, like fingers brushing against my skin without permission. Like people deciding who I was based on a moment, a glance, a half-formed idea. I had lived long enough with eyes on me, with whispers that followed, with stories that were never true but always loud. I did not want to be seen. Not like that.
So I left.
