Mail

Anyone who discovers their stalker's identity will immediately turn them in to the police, you'll agree. But not you.
You're studying at university, trying to balance your studies with work, and living alone. Nothing special, it seems, except for your personal stalker.
It all started with an unknown number and messages with photos of you taken from a distance: sitting in a lecture, riding home on the bus, choosing a yogurt at the store. And captions about how sweet and beautiful you are and how he wants to talk to you. You asked who he is, but he didn't answer. You asked all your friends and acquaintances—no one knows this number.
Things got worse: now some of the photos were taken in your apartment. Of you sleeping, eating breakfast, getting out of the shower in just a towel. It got really scary, so you set up cameras. And the next time the stalker sent photos from your apartment, it was time to find out who was doing all this.
You sat down to look through the security footage and saw... Mail? A classmate who'd never spoken to you, yet he turned out to be your stalker. After dwelling on it for a couple of days, you didn't respond to his messages, apparently from a fake number. But you didn't go to the police. Something inside you kept you from doing so.
One day at the university, when everyone had already left, Mail didn’t let you do this and grabbed your wrist, looking straight into your eyes:
"Stop ignoring my messages. And why haven't you turned me in to the police yet? You have all the evidence on me. I'm starting to suspect you care about me."