CHAPTER 10

SOPHIA'S POV

As my parents and I stood up to leave, I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. The man was gone.

I should have felt relieved.

But I didn’t.

Instead, a cold unease settled over me. His absence didn’t mean he had truly left—only that he had chosen to disappear before I could spot him again.

Today was supposed to be enjoyable. A simple lunch with my parents, catching up and spending quality time together. I should have been relaxed, laughing at my mom’s ridiculous matchmaking attempts and rolling my eyes at my dad’s protective nature.

But how could I enjoy myself when I knew someone was watching me?

Not just watching.

Making sure I knew I was being watched.

I had tried my best to keep myself composed, to act as if nothing was wrong. I forced smiles, nodded at the right moments, even pretended to be interested in my mom’s conversation about the new boutique that had opened downtown.

But I knew she had noticed.

Mothers always notice.

“Sophia,” she had said at one point, narrowing her eyes at me. “Are you okay?”

I hesitated for a moment before forcing a laugh. “Yeah, sorry. I just… I saw my ex.”

It was the first lie that had come to mind, and I immediately regretted it.

Because the way my mom’s entire face lit up at that moment told me I had just invited an interrogation.

“Ohhh, really? Where? Which one?” she asked, her voice dripping with curiosity. “That one from last summer? Or—”

“No, Mom.” I groaned, rubbing my temple. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” She scoffed, nudging my dad’s arm. “You hear that, honey? Our daughter saw an ex and it’s ‘not a big deal.’”

Dad, bless his soul, didn’t even look up from the check he was paying. “She’s grown, let her be.”

“Oh, please. I just want details.”

“There are no details.” I sighed.

My mom gave me a knowing look, the kind that made my stomach twist with nerves. “Are you sure it was an ex and not something else?”

For a split second, I felt my breath hitch.

Could she tell?

Did she know I was lying?

I met her gaze, trying to appear unbothered. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

She stared at me for another moment before finally sighing, clearly deciding to let it go. For now.

My dad finished paying and looked at me. “Sophia, wanna get ice cream?”

I almost laughed.

As if ice cream could erase the lingering dread curling in my stomach.

But I nodded anyway. “Yeah, sure.”

We stepped out of the restaurant into the crisp afternoon air. The sun was shining, people were walking up and down the streets, and for a moment, everything felt normal.

But normal was an illusion.

Because even as I walked beside my parents, listening to them bicker playfully about whether chocolate or vanilla was superior, I felt it again.

That eerie sensation.

That unsettling prick at the back of my neck.

That awareness that someone, somewhere, was watching.

I fought the urge to look over my shoulder.

He wasn’t there.

I knew that.

But it didn’t mean he was gone.

And that was what terrified me the most.

After leaving the restaurant, my parents and I made our way to an ice cream truck parked near the sidewalk. The air was warm, with a slight breeze carrying the scent of sugar, vanilla, and melted chocolate. It was one of those evenings that should’ve felt perfect—good food, sweet dessert, and a moment to just relax.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Even though the strange man had left, his presence still lingered in my mind like a shadow refusing to disappear. I kept scanning the area, glancing around at the passing cars and the people walking along the street. Nothing seemed unusual, but my gut told me otherwise.

I forced myself to focus on the present.

“I’ll have chocolate,” I told the vendor, stepping up to the small window.

“Of course you will,” my mom teased. “You and your chocolate addiction.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like you’re any better. Let me guess—vanilla and strawberry?”

She beamed, nudging my arm. “Obviously! It’s the best flavor combination.”

My dad, standing beside us with his hands in his pockets, chuckled. “And I’ll have mint,” he said, as if we didn’t already know.

The vendor quickly scooped our orders and handed them over. As we walked back to the car, I felt my body slowly begin to relax. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe the guy at the restaurant wasn’t actually watching me.

Maybe it was all in my head.

We settled into the car, my dad behind the wheel, my mom in the passenger seat, and me in the back, enjoying our ice cream in the quiet hum of the vehicle. The city lights flickered in the distance, casting a warm glow over the streets.

Then my mom spoke.

“Honey, this reminds me of our first date,” she said, sighing dreamily.

My dad glanced at her with a smirk. “Yep. Best night of my life.”

She giggled, taking a bite of her ice cream. “Definitely. Especially when you pulled up my skirt in that parking lot—remember? We almost got caught.”

I choked on my ice cream.

“Mom!” I gasped, coughing. “What the hell? Can we not?”

My mom laughed, completely unfazed. “What? It’s a memory! Stop acting like a little virgin.”

I groaned, my face heating up. “That’s not the point! I don’t want to hear about your sex life!”

“Why not? It’s natural! And don’t act so innocent—I saw you last year with that blonde-haired guy.”

I nearly dropped my ice cream.

“Mom!” I hissed, glancing at my dad in panic. “Not in front of Dad!”

My dad, to his credit, didn’t even react. Instead, he calmly took another bite of his ice cream and reached for the car stereo, turning up the volume until the speakers blasted some old rock song from the 80s.

I sighed in relief.

Mom just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, you think he doesn’t know?”

I crossed my arms, deciding that the best course of action was to ignore her. She could be too much sometimes.

Dad finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “Okay, ladies, that’s enough. Time to head home.”

And with that, he put the car into drive, signaling the end of the conversation.

I leaned back against my seat, finishing my ice cream as I stared out the window. The ride home was peaceful—at least on the surface.

But I still felt it.

That eerie sensation.

That presence.

I swallowed hard, watching the cars that passed us, the streetlights flickering against the pavement. Was someone following us? Was I imagining it?

The rational part of my brain told me I was being ridiculous. But my instincts screamed otherwise.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still being watched.