The stalker (1)

The Mumbai heat pressed down on Rohan like a suffocating blanket, mirroring the anxiety churning in his gut. He watched her from across the bustling street – Priya, her laughter a melody that both soothed and tormented him. She was sunlight in a city choked with shadows, and Rohan felt an undeniable, consuming need to possess that light.

It had started subtly. A chance encounter at the local bookstore, a shared smile over a misplaced novel. But for Rohan, it had blossomed into an all-consuming obsession. He learned her routine: the 7:15 AM train to Bandra, the small coffee shop near her office where she’d buy a chai, the evening walk in Shivaji Park with her friends. Each detail he meticulously cataloged, a cartographer charting the landscape of his desire.

He started small, leaving anonymous gifts near her usual spots – a single red rose on a park bench, a bookmark with a quote he knew she’d appreciate tucked into a library book she’d borrowed. He reveled in the possibility of her fleeting smile, imagining it was a silent acknowledgment, a nascent spark of connection.

But the small gestures weren’t enough. The distance between them felt like a physical ache. He needed to be closer, to be a part of her world. He started following her more closely, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he blended into the city's anonymity. He learned the names of her friends, the places she frequented, the rhythm of her conversations.

One evening, he saw her arguing with a young man outside her apartment building. A surge of possessive anger coursed through him. This interloper, this obstacle to his happiness. He imagined himself stepping in, rescuing her from the unpleasantness, becoming her protector.

The next day, he "accidentally" bumped into the young man near his workplace, feigning clumsiness and spilling a cup of scalding tea on his shirt. He offered a curt apology, a seed of unease planted in the other man's mind. It was a small victory, but it fueled Rohan's conviction that he was acting in Priya's best interest, clearing the path for their inevitable union.

His online searches became increasingly focused: "how to make someone fall in love with you," "signs someone is secretly attracted to you," "removing obstacles in a relationship." He started creating a digital scrapbook of Priya – photos he’d surreptitiously taken, snippets of her social media posts, weaving a narrative in his mind where their lives were already intertwined.

The line between admiration and delusion blurred. He started believing that Priya wanted this, that deep down, she sensed his devotion and was waiting for him to make the first real move. He imagined grand romantic gestures, a dramatic confession of his feelings that would sweep her off her feet.

One rainy afternoon, he saw her waiting alone at a bus stop. An impulse, dark and insistent, took hold. He pulled his scooter to a stop beside her.

"Priya," he said, his voice a little rough.

She looked startled, her eyes widening slightly. "Do I know you?"

"It's Rohan," he said, trying to inject warmth into his tone. "From the bookstore… a while ago?"

A flicker of recognition crossed her face, quickly replaced by polite indifference. "Oh, yes. Hello."

"It's raining quite heavily," he continued, his heart hammering. "Can I offer you a ride? It's not safe to wait here alone."

Priya hesitated, a shadow of unease crossing her features. "No, thank you. My friend should be here soon."

The rejection stung, sharp and unexpected. But Rohan couldn't let go. "But… I was just thinking about you. It feels like fate that we met again."

Priya took a step back. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine." Her voice was firm now, a clear boundary being drawn.

Rohan's carefully constructed fantasy began to crumble. The gentle smiles he’d imagined, the unspoken connection he’d fabricated – they dissolved in the reality of her polite but distant demeanor. A knot of desperation tightened in his chest. He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her.

As Priya’s friend arrived, her eyes filled with relief, Rohan felt a surge of resentment. He watched them walk away, the rain washing over him, mirroring the cold dread that was beginning to seep into his obsession. He knew, deep down, that his pursuit wasn't love. It was a desperate need to control, to possess, and the path he was on was leading him down a dangerous and lonely road. The vibrant city lights seemed to mock him, highlighting the stark contrast between his fabricated dream and the cold, hard reality of Priya's disinterest. The obsession, however, remained, a dark seed stubbornly refusing to wither.

𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚: 𝘼𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙧𝙞 𝙖𝙠𝙖 𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙮𝙮

𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 : 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐'𝙇𝙇 𝙈𝘼𝙔 𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀. 𝙄 𝙒𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙊𝙄𝙉𝙏 𝙎𝙊 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙀𝙓𝘾𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎... 𝘽𝙔𝙀 𝘾𝙐𝙋𝘾𝘼𝙆𝙀𝙎🍰

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