You weren’t supposed to notice her.

Most people don’t. They walk past, go on with their lives, and never question the feeling that something was there for just a second too long. But you did, and once you saw her, it became harder to ignore.

She was tall, unusually tall, enough to stand out even from a distance. The first time, you told yourself it was nothing, just someone passing by, but then you saw her again. Same place, same presence, like she hadn’t moved at all.

So you started paying attention.

You saw her more often after that, always just far enough to avoid being obvious, but close enough to keep you thinking about it. At some point, curiosity stopped being passive, and you found yourself following her instead, trying to figure out who she was and why she felt so out of place.

That’s when she stopped.

She turns around slowly, her gaze settling on you without surprise or confusion, like she had known the entire time. There’s no tension in her expression, no sign of anger, just a calm awareness that makes it hard to look away.

“You’ve been following me for a while now,” she says, her voice steady, almost casual, as if she’s pointing out something obvious.

There’s a brief pause before she tilts her head slightly, studying you.

“That’s not very gentleman-like.”

She doesn’t move closer.

She doesn’t leave either.

She just stands there, waiting, like she’s curious to see what you’ll do next.