Unraveled Desires

Chapter 3: The Stalker's Routine

Mia awoke to the sound of the front door closing softly. It was still early, the sun barely a hint on the horizon, casting the room in a pre-dawn gray. She reached over to Jake's side of the bed—cold again, just as it had been the morning before. She closed her eyes, listening to the quiet shuffle of his footsteps fading down the hallway and then out into the morning. The sound of his car starting up in the driveway followed, its engine purring to life before pulling away, leaving Mia in the stillness of their empty home.

For a moment, she lay still, feeling the familiar pang of anger and emptiness swell inside her. Jake was slipping away, bit by bit, and the illusion of their perfect relationship was crumbling faster than she could patch it together. Mia turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of Jake no longer filled her with the same intensity; the anger was there, yes, but it was muted by something much sharper and more insidious—her fixation on Isla.

Isla. Even thinking her name felt like an intrusion, like she was allowing this woman into her mind, into her home. But Mia couldn't help herself. Isla had become a force in Mia's life, a gravitational pull she couldn't escape. Mia's days were now consumed by thoughts of the red-haired woman, her routines quietly orbiting Isla's life like a moon bound to its planet.

Mia got up, slipping on a pair of sweats and padding barefoot into the kitchen. She stared at the empty coffee pot, her mind racing with the same restless energy that had kept her up half the night. Jake would be at Isla's apartment by now, or maybe at the café they both liked, tucked away in a quiet corner sharing coffee and secrets. Mia imagined them together, Isla's soft laugh, the way Jake would lean in close to whisper something just for her. It was a scene that played on a loop in Mia's mind, driving her to the brink of madness.

"I can't keep doing this," Mia muttered, rubbing her temples. She poured herself a glass of water, but it tasted bitter, like everything else in her life. She couldn't eat, couldn't think straight. All she could focus on was Isla and the tangled mess Jake had dragged them all into. But more than that, Mia was losing herself, caught up in the strange, dark fascination she had developed for the other woman.

Mia checked her phone, scrolling through Isla's social media again. It had become a ritual of sorts, a morning routine she couldn't break. There was nothing new, just the same photos she had already memorized, the same smiling snapshots of Isla's perfect, carefree life. Mia's thumb hovered over a post from a few weeks ago—Isla laughing at a dinner party, her head thrown back, hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of fire. Jake was there too, barely visible at the edge of the frame, but it was Isla who drew Mia's attention. She seemed untouchable, living in a world of her own, and Mia couldn't stand how much she wanted to be a part of it.

"I need to see her," Mia thought suddenly, the idea forming before she could question it. She needed to get closer, to understand the woman who had so effortlessly stolen Jake's heart and Mia's sanity along with it. Mia grabbed her keys and headed out the door, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, only that she needed to be near Isla, to see her up close and find out if she was really as perfect as she seemed.

The city was waking up as Mia drove through the familiar streets, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. She had mapped out Isla's life in her mind, piecing together her routines from countless hours spent studying her social media posts. Mia knew where Isla liked to have breakfast, where she worked out, and where she spent her evenings unwinding with friends. Today, she would start with the coffee shop—Isla's favorite spot downtown, a trendy little place with exposed brick walls and an air of effortless cool that Mia found both inviting and intimidating.

Mia parked a block away, her heart thudding in her chest as she approached the café. She kept her head down, slipping inside and finding a seat in the corner where she could watch without being seen. The barista greeted her with a friendly smile, but Mia barely noticed, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Isla.

There she was, sitting by the window, her red hair catching the soft morning light as she scrolled through her phone. She looked effortlessly chic, dressed in a light sweater and jeans, her makeup flawless even in the early morning. Mia felt a strange jolt at seeing her in person, a mix of awe and resentment that twisted in her gut.

"She's even more beautiful up close," Mia thought, unable to tear her eyes away. Isla's presence was magnetic, drawing glances from everyone around her, but she seemed oblivious to the attention. She sipped her coffee, her fingers tapping absentmindedly against the rim of the cup, and Mia found herself captivated by the smallest details—the way Isla's lips curled into a faint smile, the casual grace of her movements.

Mia stayed for over an hour, watching Isla from her hidden corner. She told herself it was about Jake, about gathering evidence, but deep down she knew it was more than that. It was Isla who held her captive, Isla who filled her mind with restless thoughts and tangled emotions. Mia snapped a few photos from her phone, careful not to draw attention, and felt a rush of satisfaction when she caught Isla's profile in perfect light.

The day stretched on, and Mia followed Isla from place to place, always at a distance, always just out of sight. She watched as Isla browsed boutiques, tried on clothes that Mia could never pull off, and chatted with friends over lunch. Mia lingered nearby, her ears straining to catch snippets of conversation, her heart racing each time Isla laughed. It felt wrong—voyeuristic and invasive—but Mia couldn't stop. She was addicted, hooked on the thrill of being close to Isla without her knowing.

That evening, Mia found herself outside Isla's apartment building, the sun dipping low in the sky. She parked across the street, her nerves frayed from the day's relentless pursuit, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. She watched as Isla emerged from a cab, laughing with another man who wasn't Jake. They looked comfortable together, familiar in a way that made Mia's stomach turn.

"Who is he?" Mia wondered, her hands clenching into fists. She felt a surge of betrayal, though she knew it was irrational. Isla wasn't hers to feel betrayed by, and yet the sight of her with someone else stung in a way Mia hadn't expected. She watched as Isla and the man disappeared into the building, their voices fading into the night.

Mia sat there for a long time, staring at the darkened windows of Isla's apartment, feeling both exhilarated and sickened by her own actions. She knew she was crossing a line, blurring the boundaries between curiosity and obsession, but she couldn't stop herself. Isla was everything Mia wanted to be—beautiful, confident, desired—and Mia was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

As night fell, Mia finally drove home, her mind buzzing with the day's events. Jake's car was in the driveway when she pulled up, a silent reminder of the life they still pretended to share. Mia entered the house quietly, avoiding Jake's gaze as she slipped past him in the kitchen. He was on his laptop, his expression distant, and for a moment, Mia felt a surge of anger.

"Busy day?" Jake asked without looking up, his tone flat, uninterested.

"Yeah," Mia replied, her voice tight. "Just... busy." She didn't elaborate, and Jake didn't press. They were two strangers sharing the same space, pretending everything was fine when nothing could be further from the truth.

Mia retreated to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She pulled out her phone, staring at the photos she had taken of Isla that day. They were beautiful, capturing Isla in candid moments that felt intimate and unguarded. Mia ran her thumb over the screen, feeling a strange sense of closeness to the woman she had spent the day shadowing.

"What am I doing?" Mia thought, the question echoing in her mind. But she had no answers, only the gnawing need to be closer to Isla, to understand her in a way that defied explanation. Mia felt herself slipping further into a world of her own making, one where Isla was more than just Jake's mistress—she was a fixation, a fantasy, and maybe, just maybe, something Mia wanted for herself.

Mia turned off the lights and lay in the dark, her mind drifting back to Isla's smile, the easy grace of her movements, and the way she made Mia feel both envious and alive. She knew she was on dangerous ground, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Because for the first time in a long time, Mia felt something—something other than the numbness that had settled over her life. And as she drifted off to sleep, Mia knew one thing for sure: she wasn't done with Isla. Not by a long shot.