YOU ARE WHAT I NEED [COMPLETED]

4

The day dragged on, each tick of the clock feeling like a lifetime. Mr. Thompson's grumbling and the rush of customers blurred into a monotonous hum. Lily's occasional jokes were the only things keeping me anchored. As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the shop's windows, the strange sensation of being watched grew stronger.

It was during the mid-morning lull, while I was wiping down tables, that I noticed her. Sitting in the far corner of the café, a woman with jet-black hair and piercing eyes that seemed to burn right through me. She was beautiful in an eerie, otherworldly way, her gaze never leaving me.

Lily nudged me with her elbow as she passed by. "Looks like you have a secret admirer," she teased.

"Yeah, right," I muttered, feeling a strange mix of unease and curiosity. The woman hadn't ordered anything, and she wasn't looking at a menu or her phone—just me. I tried to focus on my work, but her presence was impossible to ignore.

Finally, I gathered the courage to approach her table. "Can I get you anything?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She smiled, a slow, mesmerizing curve of her lips. "Just enjoying the view," she said softly, her voice like velvet. "But a coffee would be nice."

I nodded, my cheeks flushing. As I prepared her drink, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about her—something dangerous and thrilling all at once. I brought the coffee to her table, my hands trembling slightly.

"Thank you, Claire," she said, her eyes locking onto mine. The way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine.

"You're welcome," I replied, wondering how she knew it.

"Take care," she said, her voice lingering in the air as she stood and left the café, her movements fluid and graceful. I watched her go, a strange longing tugging at my heart.

As the evening rush began, I tried to push thoughts of the mysterious woman aside. But the feeling of being watched persisted, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Lily caught me staring out the window, lost in thought. "Earth to Claire," she said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You okay?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just a weird day."

"You need to relax," she said, concern flickering in her eyes. "Maybe a night out? We could hit up that new bar downtown."

I shook my head. "Thanks, Lily, but I think I just need to rest."

She sighed, giving my arm a squeeze. "Alright, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

As the evening rush began, I tried to push thoughts of the mysterious woman aside. But the feeling of being watched persisted, gnawing at the edges of my mind. When my shift finally ended, I felt an overwhelming need to get home quickly. The walk was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, but the eerie sensation only intensified.

As I rounded the corner to my apartment, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was there, hidden in the shadows. I quickened my pace, my heart pounding. Was I imagining things? Or was there really someone following me?

My breath hitched as I forced myself to turn around, hoping to catch whoever it was off guard. But as I spun around, I saw nothing—only the empty street behind me. My heart was racing, and I cursed myself for being so paranoid. I turned back, only to bump into a solid figure.

"Oh!" I gasped, stepping back quickly.

It was her—the woman from the café. She looked down at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "Careful," she said, her voice soft yet firm, like she had said the word a thousand times before.

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there."

"No harm done," she replied, her eyes never leaving mine. There was something in her gaze—something that made my heart race in a way that wasn't entirely due to fear.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence between us was thick with unspoken words, a tension that I couldn't quite place. Her presence was both intimidating and comforting, and I found myself inexplicably drawn to her.

"Would you like me to walk you home?" she asked suddenly, her tone gentle but with an undercurrent of insistence.

My first instinct was to decline, to politely excuse myself and hurry back to the safety of my apartment. But when I saw the subtle pout on her face, something in me softened. It was such a small, almost childish expression, and yet it made her seem more human—more approachable.

"Actually, that would be nice," I found myself saying, much to my own surprise.

Her smile widened just a fraction, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. "I'm Selene," she said as we began walking, her steps perfectly in sync with mine.

"Claire," I replied, though she already knew. "Where are you from, Selene?"

"Somewhere far away," she said, her voice carrying a hint of mystery. "But I've been here for a while now."

Our conversation flowed easily after that. We talked about everything and nothing, our words weaving a strange connection between us. I was so engrossed in learning about her—her calm demeanor, her cryptic answers—that I didn't realize we had reached my apartment building until we were standing in front of it.

I looked up at the familiar structure, a sudden wave of dread washing over me. The door opened, and there stood my husband, his expression twisted with anger that quickly shifted to something unreadable when he saw Selene beside me.

"Claire," he said, his voice tight with barely restrained fury. "You're late."

Selene's gaze flicked to him, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she said nothing.

"I'll see you later," I said quickly, not wanting to provoke him further.

Selene hesitated, her eyes lingering on mine as if she was reluctant to leave. But then she gave me a small nod and turned away, disappearing into the night as swiftly as she had appeared.

As I stepped inside, the door closed behind me with a heavy thud. The tension in the air was suffocating. My husband's eyes bore into me, his face contorted in anger.

"Who was that?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "You know I don't like you hanging around people I don't know."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "She's just a customer from the café. She was being polite, walking me home."

His glare intensified, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out again. But then he turned on his heel and stormed off, heading to the guest room without another word. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving me standing alone in the darkened hallway, my heart still racing from the encounter.

I made my way to the bedroom, my thoughts swirling with everything that had happened tonight. There was something about Selene—something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it drew me to her like a moth to a flame. And yet, there was also an undercurrent of fear, a sense that she was more than she seemed.

As I lay down, I couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring—and whether I would see Selene again. The thought both excited and terrified me. And as sleep finally claimed me, one thing was certain: my life had been irrevocably changed.