Ife had always trusted her instincts.
They were the reason she crossed roads when something felt off, why she listened more than she spoke, why she never ignored the quiet voice at the back of her mind. That morning, that voice was loud.
Too loud.
She stepped out of her compound just after sunrise, bag slung over her shoulder, keys still warm in her hand. The street looked ordinary—neighbors sweeping, a woman arguing with a vendor, a bus coughing to life down the road.
Normal.
Still, Ife didn't relax.
She walked, slow and deliberate, eyes scanning reflections in shop windows instead of the street ahead. Halfway down the road, she felt it—that faint pressure between her shoulders. Not fear. Awareness.
Someone was behind her.
She didn't turn immediately. Instead, she adjusted her pace, slowing slightly.
The footsteps slowed too.
Her stomach tightened.
At the junction, she crossed suddenly.
The footsteps crossed with her.
That was all the confirmation she needed.
Arden was mid-argument with Victor when his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He ignored it once.
Then it rang again.
Something cold settled in his chest.
He answered. "Ife?"
Her voice was calm—too calm. "Don't panic."
He was already standing. "Where are you?"
"I'm near the pharmacy on Ade Street," she said. "I think I'm being followed."
The world narrowed.
"Listen to me," Arden said, forcing his voice steady. "You're going to walk into the nearest crowded place. Do not confront anyone. Do you hear me?"
"Yes."
"I'm on my way."
Victor was already moving, keys in hand. "I'll circle ahead."
Arden didn't wait.
Ife did exactly as she was told.
She walked into a small provision store, pretending to browse while watching the glass door. A man passed by. Then another.
Then one stopped.
He didn't come inside.
He just stood there, staring through the glass like he knew she could feel it.
Her hands trembled slightly.
She lifted her phone again.
"He's outside."
"I'm two minutes away," Arden said.
The man smiled.
That was worse than anything else.
When Arden arrived, he didn't think—he reacted.
He crossed the street fast, eyes locked on the man outside the shop. The stranger noticed him instantly, amusement flickering across his face before he turned and walked away.
Arden chased him.
"I said don't," Victor barked from behind.
But Arden didn't hear him.
He caught up just as the man slipped into a narrow side street.
Arden grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall.
"Stay away from her," Arden growled.
The man laughed softly. "You brought her into this."
Arden's fist connected with his jaw.
Victor pulled him back immediately. "Enough."
The man wiped blood from his mouth, eyes gleaming. "She's braver than you."
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Ife was shaking when Arden reached her.
He didn't speak. He just pulled her into his arms.
She clutched his shirt, breath uneven. "I didn't run."
"I know," he murmured into her hair. "I'm here."
For a long moment, the world fell away.
Then Victor cleared his throat. "This changes things."
Arden looked up. "How?"
"They crossed a line," Victor said. "They wanted to see your reaction."
Arden's jaw tightened. "They got it."
Back at the apartment, silence settled heavy and uncomfortable.
Ife sat on the couch, knees drawn to her chest.
"I'm not sorry," she said suddenly.
Arden looked at her. "For what?"
"For not backing away."
He knelt in front of her. "I am."
She frowned. "Don't be."
"I almost lost control."
"You didn't," she said. "You showed up."
He swallowed. "I don't know how to do this without hurting you."
She reached out, cupping his face. "Then stop trying to do it alone."
Their foreheads touched.
Outside, the city continued—loud, indifferent, alive.
Inside, a line had been crossed.
There would be no pretending anymore.
Love had been seen.
And that made it dangerous.