There is an art to watching without being seen. A balance between silence and shadow, between patience and anticipation. It’s something few understand, but Klaus had mastered it long ago.

And now, there was her.

Klaus stood hidden in the darkness outside her building, shrouded by the dimness of the night. This wasn’t the first time he had watched her, but every time brought the same burning excitement, like standing on the edge of something unnamed—something wild and primal.

There she was, framed by the window, her form illuminated by the soft yellow light of her room’s lamp. She didn’t know he was there, didn’t feel the intensity of his gaze. But she should. If she were more aware, she would have sensed that something had shifted over the past few weeks.

She believed she was alone.

And that made her perfect.

Klaus’s hand slid down the side of his jacket, fingers brushing the cold weight of the knife resting in his pocket. Not because he intended to use it—not tonight. It was simply a reminder, a symbol of the control he held over this moment. Over her.

Watching her wasn’t just an obsession; it was a need. There was something about her that gripped him like an invisible thread, pulling him into a space where control and chaos collided. She was different—strong enough to mask her vulnerabilities, yet fragile enough for him to see the cracks beneath the surface.

She ran her fingers through her hair, distracted, before grabbing the notebook she always kept on her desk. He’d watched her write in it countless times, her lips moving silently as she organized her thoughts. He wondered what secrets the pages held tonight. A list? A confession? A dream?

He could find out.

Klaus had been inside her apartment before. Not many times—just enough to understand her world. The key beneath the doormat was an unspoken invitation, an oversight that begged to be exploited. He never took anything, never left a trace. He only touched what she touched, opened drawers, inhaled the air she breathed.

His favorite place was the desk drawer, where she kept unsent letters. Words she had never had the courage to share with anyone.

To the world outside, she was strong, maybe even cold. But Klaus knew better. She wanted to be seen. To be understood. To be loved.

And he was the only one who could give her that.

She didn’t know him—not yet. But she would. Soon.

The light in her apartment went out, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp outside. The silence thickened, broken only by the occasional hum of passing cars.

Klaus stepped closer, his footsteps muted by the damp concrete. He knew the layout of her apartment by heart—where she slept, where she kept her secrets, where her fears lingered.

He stopped beneath her window, imagining her at that moment. She was likely undressing, letting the armor she wore during the day fall away. Night was when people revealed their true selves.

If he wanted to, he could climb up now. Open the window. Watch as realization and panic overtook her when she discovered she wasn’t alone.

But not tonight.

The game had only just begun. There was no need to rush. Klaus wanted her to feel the subtle shifts, to sense that something wasn’t quite right. He wanted her to notice him. To fear him.

And eventually...

"She’ll love me," he whispered into the night.

When Klaus finally moved away, he left a small token of his presence. A note carefully affixed to her door, its words chosen with precision:

– You’re not alone. I’m watching you.

The message was simple, yet Klaus knew it would embed itself in her mind, lingering like an unwelcome shadow. She would try to dismiss it, but the words would haunt her. She would begin to sense him in every corner of her world, even when he wasn’t there.

Because she was already his. She just didn’t know it yet.