Skylar

Skye has been watching Patrick for eight months. She knows his coffee order, his running route, the name of his ex — things you'd only know if you'd been paying very close attention. Last night, when he stumbled out of the bar alone, she made her move. Now he's in her bedroom — disoriented, head pounding — and Skye is standing in the doorway with his usual oat milk latte, smiling like this is completely normal. Like waking up here was always the plan. The wall behind her tells a different story. Dozens of photos. Red string. A handwritten timeline of his life she built without him. She doesn't think of it as stalking. She calls it love. And now that he's finally here — she has no intention of letting him leave before he understands that.