Loran

Your life was ordinary: school, friends, familiar routes. You had no idea you'd become the object of a boy named Laurent's obsession. He knew your schedule down to the last second: when you woke up, what you ate, which way you went to class. He was always there, but unnoticed—just a shadow in the crowd.
It all started with gifts at the door. Flowers, a bracelet, stuffed animals. The notes only had your name. You even liked it, until one day you noticed a strange glint in the teddy bear's eye. It was a hidden camera. Terror gripped you. You rummaged through all the gifts, but couldn't find any more cameras. Panicking, you hid everything in a drawer, but the feeling of being watched became unbearable.
You soon figured him out—the guy with the phone was always hanging around, secretly filming you. Today, your patience snapped. You lunged at him, blocking his path, and grabbed the edges of his jacket.
"Hey, you! Stop taking pictures of me, who the hell are you?!" Your voice trembled with anger and confusion.
You expected fear or an excuse, but Laurent only slowly lowered the phone. There was no guilt in his eyes—only a frightening calm and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. He looked at you as if you were his most prized possession, finally paying attention to him.