Surrendered Soul

#1: The First Time I Saw Him

This is my first story here and english is not my first language, so I apologize for the mistakes and ask you to let me know about the wrong typing.
I can't promise a happy ending here.
I hope you enjoy this story.
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It was an ordinary night when I met him.

I should've noticed the way the air shifted — how the world seemed to grow a little colder when he stepped into the café. I should've seen the subtle way his eyes moved, a predator watching its prey. But I was too absorbed in my own life, in my own thoughts, to notice. I was too busy scrolling through my phone, killing time before I had to head home for another lonely evening, wrapped in the safety of routine.

Loneliness had become my companion. It wasn't just the absence of others, though; it was the crushing weight of isolation, of being unseen in a crowded room. It was the small hours of the night when I was alone with my thoughts, replaying my life like a film I couldn't turn off. It had become a dull ache, so familiar that I barely noticed it anymore.

I noticed him only when he sat down across from me.

At first, I thought he'd mistaken the table for someone else's. He was too close, too sudden, and I startled, looking up into his face with surprise. He was tall — almost 6'6" — and broad, not in a bulky way, but strong and solid. His presence seemed to fill the space, like the weight of the air had shifted when he walked in. His blue eyes, bright and piercing, locked onto mine immediately, as though he could see straight through me. And his hair — brown, the kind that would've looked soft if it weren't so meticulously styled, like he was too controlled to ever let it fall out of place. The kind of hair that didn't belong to an ordinary man. His entire demeanor — his size, his stillness — felt like he had the power to destroy everything around him, and yet he chose to remain quiet, contained.

There was an aura about him — dark, unnerving — like he was a force of nature, waiting to unleash itself at the right moment. A controlled, uneasy energy clung to him, like a fog I couldn't shake, even as he sat calmly across from me, his presence undeniable.

He didn't smile. Just stared at me for a moment, his gaze unnervingly direct, but not unkind. It was... measured. Calculated.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked, my voice faltering a little.

The question felt automatic, but even as I spoke, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The night, which had felt so ordinary a moment ago, suddenly felt like it was crawling with tension.

He didn't speak right away. He didn't need to. His eyes, pale and unsettling, seemed to read everything about me in the silence. The way I shifted in my seat, the way my fingers drummed nervously on the edge of my coffee cup. Everything. Then, when he did speak, his voice was low, smooth like velvet, the kind of voice that slid under your skin without you even realizing it.

"No," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "But I've been watching you."

The words were casual, like he was talking about the weather, but they hit me like a slap. My heart stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. I should've been terrified — I was terrified — but there was something else too. Something darker. A sick, twisted curiosity that prickled along my skin.

I didn't know how to respond. Part of me wanted to scream. To get up and run. But the other part of me — my curiosity, my longing to be seen, to not be invisible anymore — kept me frozen in place, like a moth drawn to a flame.

"Excuse me?" I finally managed to choke out, my voice trembling now.

His lips curved into a slow, unsettling smile. "I've been watching you for a while, Clara." His gaze was unwavering. "I know your schedule. I know what time you leave work. What time you go to the gym. What you order here." He paused, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't quite place. "You have a routine. You're predictable."