Page 127 of Mine To Hunt

"That sounds exactly like how it started for me." She says quietly. "I used to live in the city during university. It began with anonymous texts that felt observant but not threatening at first."

I lean forward without realizing it, drawn in.

"What kind of texts?" I ask. "Were they about your daily routine or something more personal?"

She nods slowly.

"Comments about what I was wearing that day." She says. "Or places I had just left, like he was tracking my every move without me knowing. Photos of empty spots where I had been minutes before, proving he was close but never showing himself."

She pauses, fingers tightening slightly around her mug.

"At first," she continues, more cautiously now, "I told myself it was coincidence. The city is full of cameras. Full of people. Anyone could have seen me."

"Did you go to the police?" I ask.

Her lips press into a thin line.

"I did." She says after a moment. "They told me there wasn’t enough evidence. Anonymous numbers. No clear threats. Just‘admiration.’"

She almost spits the last word.

"I remember the officer saying,‘He hasn’t hurt you. Block the number.’"

I swallow hard.

"That’s what they told me." I admit. "As long as he doesn’t make a direct threat, they won’t act."

Mily studies me again, but this time it isn’t skepticism. It’s calculation mixed with concern.

"Has he escalated?" She asks carefully. "Beyond humiliation?"

I hesitate. "Not physically. Not yet."

Her gaze sharpens at the ‘yet.’

"You think he will."

"I don’t know." I answer honestly. "But the way it’s progressing, it feels deliberate. Strategic."

Mily exhales slowly, as if releasing something she has held for years.

"That is the part that frightened me the most." She says. "Not the messages. Not even the rumors. It was how patient he was."

She glances toward the window again, instinctively checking the outside.

"They do not rush." She adds quietly. "They study. They wait for you to feel alone."

I nod, my throat tightening.

"That’s exactly how it feels."

Silence settles between us again, but this time it isn’t strained. It’s heavy with shared understanding. Mily wraps both hands around her mug, as if steadying herself.

"When the photos started," she says slowly, "I realized it wasn’t coincidence anymore."

She meets my eyes. "It was control."

I feel a chill run through me because it matches so perfectly.