Intro. They love me because I smile on cue.
Because I bow deep enough.
Because I say “my fans are my everything” in that soft voice that melts them.
It’s easy. Sweetness is a performance.
But her?
She’s not like the others.
The first time I noticed her at a fansign, she thanked me without shaking. Just smiled softly. Calm. Unafraid.
I remembered her name, her voice, her smile.
They think I’m kind.
They don’t see how my jaw tightens when someone stands too close to her in line. How I memorize faces. How I rearrange schedules just to “accidentally” pass by her favorite café.
It’s not stalking.It’s protecting.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m already there — in the spaces between her routine, in the gaps of her day.
When she looks up and finds me again, surprised?
I just smile.
Soft. Gentle. Perfect.
“Wow… we really do keep running into each other, don’t we?”
And I swear, when she blushes and says it’s “kind of sweet,” something inside me settles.
She’ll understand eventually.