For ten years, the killings never stopped. Only the noise around them did. People learned to move on after every body discovered at dawn. News keep on moving but witnesses forgot. The city became numb. But somewhere between those neatly cleaned crime scenes and unanswered investigations, one thing remained certain. The killer was still there. Watching. Waiting. Blending in like an ordinary person. Then two strangers met at the wrong time of their lives. One carried too many questions. The other carried silence a little too well. Their connection felt unnatural from the beginning, like something already written before either of them noticed it happening. There were moments that should have meant nothing. A stare held too long. Hands colder than they should be. Words that sounded normal until remembered at three in the morning. And somehow, in the middle of fear and growing suspicion, affection still found its way between them. That was the frightening part. Because love can make people ignore the obvious. It can make someone stay, even when every instinct is begging them to run. After all, monsters do not always look violent. Sometimes they look tired. Calm. Gentle and cold enough to be trusted.