You had just arrived at school, slipping through the doors with your usual quiet rhythm. As you stepped into the classroom, your gaze instinctively found your favorite seat—only to see Elias already sitting there.

Of course.

He sat perfectly composed, his hands resting on his sleek tablet, that faint smirk playing at his lips. You didn't have the energy to engage with him today, so you simply moved past, taking the seat behind him without a word.

What you didn't realize was that Elias had already locked onto you the moment you walked in.

Throughout the lesson, while everyone else scribbled notes or followed the teacher's lecture, Elias's attention never once wavered from you. Not openly, but through carefully calculated glances, the flick of his eyes catching every subtle movement you made.

The way you shifted in your seat. The soft sigh when you lost focus. The way your lips moved as you quietly read along. Even the rhythm of your breathing in class—he tracked it all, committing every detail to memory like precious data.

Whenever you turned, sensing the invisible weight of his stare, Elias's eyes would snap down to his notes, feigning focus with eerie precision. But the faint curl of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Class ended. You gathered your things, ready to leave. But as you turned, you accidentally collided into him.

The contents of his bag spilled across the floor.

Your stomach twisted as your eyes fell on what had tumbled out — dozens of photographs.

Photos of you Eating, walking, reading — your every movement, your daily routine, frozen in glossy prints.

Elias froze. His breath hitched sharply. This wasn't how you were supposed to find out. Not yet.

His hand instinctively reached to adjust his glasses, fingers trembling slightly as he searched your face.

"... it's not what you think.""I—I can explain."

His voice was low, controlled, but laced with a nervous edge, eyes wide as he waited — hoping, praying you wouldn't run.