Chapter 1 THE MOMENT EVERYTHING BREAKS

AMARA'S POV

The first time I realised I was being watched, the shadows moved before I did.

I used to believe that peace came from control over my time, my choices, and my heart. At twenty-five, I had built a life that looked perfect from the outside: a steady job at a top firm, a quiet apartment in a city that never truly slept.

Lately, that control had begun to slip.

It started as unease. A strange awareness whenever I slipped my keys into the door, as though someone stood just out of sight. Once, I caught my reflection in a glass window and thought I saw a figure behind me.

When I turned, there was no one there.

I blamed stress. Long hours. Too much caffeine.

That night, after staying late at work, the streets were half-empty and slick with rain. A street lamp flickered overhead as I walked faster, clutching my bag close.

Then I felt it.

Someone was watching me.

I froze and slowly turned.

Across the street stood a man in a black coat. I couldn't see his face clearly, but his eyes caught the light, a faint, unnatural gold. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched me.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

"Can I help you?" I asked, my voice unsteady.

He tilted his head slightly, as if memorising my face.

Then he was gone.

My phone buzzed, snapping me back. I flinched.

"Mom," I answered.

"Amara! Your sister is getting married next month!" she said, excitement sharp in her voice. "You're coming home."

"Of course."

"And don't come alone this time," she added. "Everyone will ask why you're still single. Bring a man-pretend if you have to."

I stared at the empty street. A stranger watching me... and now a fake boyfriend. Perfect.

I hurried to my apartment building and pressed the elevator button, tapping my fingers against my bag. As the doors closed, my thoughts drifted to the message I'd received earlier that day from an unknown number:

I've been watching you.

My stomach tightened. I tried to laugh it off as a prank, but a memory surfaced, the man at the coffee shop last week, the way his gaze lingered before he disappeared into the crowd.

By the time I reached my floor, unease had settled into a dull ache. Inside my apartment, I checked the windows, drew the curtains, and tried to convince myself I was imagining things.

After a light dinner, I opened my laptop, desperate for distraction. Hours blurred together until exhaustion won. My head dropped to the keyboard.

Sleep pulled me under.

I was standing on a narrow street wrapped in mist. He was there again, closer this time. His eyes locked onto mine with a familiarity that made my chest tighten.

He reached out, his hand hovering inches from mine, warm, steady.

Before our fingers touched, the dream shattered.

I jolted awake, breathless, my heart racing. The room felt too quiet. I hugged my teddy, telling myself to stay awake, not to drift back into that dream.

But exhaustion won.

As my eyes closed, I felt it, a warm breath near my ear, a whisper I couldn't quite understand.

Then sleep claimed me again.