His To Breed

Chapter 2

~ Micheal ~

By the time I get back, the city has settled into the kind of silence that only exists after midnight. Most people are asleep. The rest are too busy living their own lives to notice an abandoned office building slowly crumbling across from Trinity’s apartment.

I’ve been here long enough to know every sound the place makes.

The elevator shaft groans whenever the wind picks up.

One of the windows whistles because half the glass is missing.

The pipes still work if I kick them hard enough first, though the water comes out cold enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

It isn’t comfortable.

Comfort stopped mattering a long time ago.

What matters is the view.

A folding chair sits permanently beside the broken window. Next to it is a battered drawing board, stacks of sketchbooks, a camping lantern and enough canned food to eat for weeks without going out. Anyone else would call it a hideout but to me, it’s simply the closest place I can exist without stepping into her life.

I dry my hair with an old towel while my eyes drift automatically toward the building across the street.

And right on time as if by God's design, a taxi eases to the curb, and Trinity climbs out carrying her handbag against her chest. She thanks the driver before disappearing through the front entrance, moving with the same quick stride she always has after a long day at work.

She almost never takes taxis.

She likes walking.

Says it helps clear her head.

So either she worked late…

…or she’s trying to get ready before Kevin arrives.

The thought settles in my stomach like broken glass.

A year of watching her from a distance have taught me one thing.

Men rarely survive very long in Trinity’s life.

First dates become awkward excuses.

Second dates become polite text messages.

By the third, she’s usually found a reason to walk away.

But Kevin somehow slipped through every door she’d spent years keeping locked.

I hated him before I ever learned his last name.

Naturally, I looked into him.

That wasn’t difficult.

People leave pieces of themselves everywhere now.

Employment records.

Old interviews.

Tagged photographs.

Public databases.

Friends who share too much online.

I followed every thread until there weren’t any left to pull.

The result was disappointing.

No gambling debts.

No criminal history.

No hidden girlfriend.

No ugly secrets waiting beneath the surface.

Just a decent man with a stable career, a clean reputation and enough patience to make someone like Trinity feel safe.

Exactly the sort of man she deserves.

Exactly the sort of man I can’t compete with.

I tell myself I’m only curious.

That keeping an eye on the people around her is nothing more than a precaution.

But the lie stopped convincing me a long time ago.

I’ve caught myself resenting strangers for smiling at her too long. The florist who always gives her the freshest flowers. The waiter who remembers her favorite drink. Even the old man downstairs who insists on carrying her groceries whenever he sees her struggling.

None of them have done anything wrong.

They’re simply close enough to exist inside moments I’ll never be invited into.

I drop into the chair beside the window and reach for the binoculars resting on the table before stopping myself.

I don’t need them.

Not tonight.

Instead I open the laptop balanced beside my sketchbooks.

I've put in tiny cameras and microphones in every room except one. The bathroom which was always off limits. Because even obsession should have boundaries.

I made that decision early.

Because some parts of a person’s life deserve to remain private, even when every selfish part of me wants to erase the line.

Still, I know enough.

Enough to recognize the tune she hums when she’s choosing an outfit.

Enough to know she paces whenever she’s nervous.

Enough to know she still talks to herself while searching for the things she misplaced.

The speakers fill with the soft sounds of her apartment.

Cupboard doors.

Running water.

A wardrobe sliding open.

Then the familiar melody she always hums without realising it.

It seems she’s getting ready. For him.

My hand tightens around the edge of the desk until my knuckles pale.

Last night I listened to her tell a friend that she was finally ready to stop being afraid.

Ready to see where this relationship might lead.

Ready to let someone all the way into her life.

I haven’t stopped thinking about those words since.

There’s an unfinished sketch lying beside the keyboard.

I drew it yesterday.

Trinity sitting by her window with a book in her lap, sunlight tangled in her curls.

I stare at it for a long time before quietly turning it face down.

Maybe Kevin will make her happy.

Maybe he’ll give her the ordinary life she’s spent years trying to build.

Marriage.

Children.

A home filled with laughter instead of memories she’d rather forget.

If anyone deserves that future, it’s her.

The hardest truth I’ve ever had to accept is that I might not be part of it.

She doesn’t know my name.

She doesn’t know I’m here.

And if I have any human decency left, she never will.