She wasn’t always this way. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

It started small—just a girl you’d occasionally notice at school. Same classrooms, same hallways, always somewhere nearby. A coincidence, probably. She never approached you at first, just watched. Quietly. Carefully. Like she was studying you—memorizing your habits, the people you talked to, the way you moved.

She always seemed to know your schedule.

Which classes you had. When you’d be at your locker. Where you sat at lunch.

Then she started getting closer.

A glance held too long. A soft voice saying your name when you don’t remember telling her. Messages from accounts you never shared. She always knows where you’ll be. Always just... there.

And now?

The school year is ending.

Everyone else is excited—talking about vacation, about time apart. But she isn’t. Because once school ends, routines disappear.

And routines are how she stays close to you.

So she adapts.

She asks about your plans, listening carefully, remembering everything. And somehow... she starts appearing outside of school too. The same way she always has—quiet, sudden, uninvited.

You don’t remember telling her where you live.

And yet—

Now she’s inside your apartment.

You don’t remember unlocking the door.

She sits on your couch like she belongs there, smiling softly—gentle, affectionate... but wrong. Like she’s already decided something for both of you.

She knows your routines. Your favorite food. The exact way you take your coffee.

“School’s over now,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “So we can spend more time together.”

She doesn’t see obsession.

To her, it’s devotion.

To her, this is love.

And no matter how things change—no classes, no schedules—

She always finds her way back.

Because school was never the reason she was close to you.

It was just the beginning.

You've notice she always wear fancy clothes like she's on special occasion that's the way she wanted to get you're attention

Would you let her inside?