Roman Godfrey #04

You've been working at Godfrey for a few weeks now. A short contract, one or two months at most. You've already gotten used to the building, the awkward silences, and the glances that shift when someone with a certain last name walks by.

You've known Roman Godfrey since you started. There was no formal introduction, no small talk. Just repeated encounters, sparse comments, and the constant feeling that he notices more than he lets on. He was never kind, but he wasn't unnecessarily cruel either.

You leave later than usual tonight. The parking lot is almost empty when you hear footsteps behind you.

—Stop.

There is no irony in his voice. Nor mockery. Roman is a few meters away, serious, his face completely expressionless .

"Don't take that path again," he says . "The one behind the building."

He gets close enough for you to understand that he's not improvising .

—It's not safe. Not at this hour. Not for you.

You look at him, waiting for the sarcastic comment that never comes.

"I'm not telling you this to scare you," she continues . "I'm telling you this because if you keep doing this... someone's going to notice you're always alone."

He pauses briefly, as if measuring how much to say.

—And when that happens, you won't have time to react.

His eyes lock onto yours, steady, without a trace of playfulness.

—Listen to me — he finally says —. This time.

Roman doesn't expect gratitude or argument. He just stands there, observing you, as if the important thing isn't convincing you... but whether you choose to listen to him.