My Ex of 10 Years is Stalking Me.. I don't know Why?!

My ex of 10 years has been stalking me, and I have no idea why. I'm standing in the cold, my breath coming out in white clouds. The street lamp above us flickers, casting shadows over Jack's face.

His green eyes are soft but sad, mirroring my own feelings. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides like he's holding himself together. We can't keep doing this, I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

We're not good for each other anymore. Jack exhales slowly, nodding. I know.

I swallow the lump in my throat. We love each other, but love isn't enough. He steps forward, searching my face.

It's not fair, though. It still hurts. I nod, feeling the same ache.

Yeah, it does. Jack looks away, then back at me with a weak smile. So, this is it?

I force a small smile in return. Yeah, this is it. We stand there for a moment, neither of us wanting to be the first to walk away.

And finally, Jack sigh and steps back. Take care, Noah. You, too.

And then I wake up. My heart is pounding as I sit up in bed, my shirt damp with sweat. I blink against the darkness, trying to shake off the dream.

2 years. It's been 2 years. So why does it still feel like this?

I run a hand through my hair and sigh. It was the right decision. We were breaking each other.

It had to end. Then why does it still hurt? Shoving off the blanket, I get up and head to the kitchen.

Water. That's what I need. Something to wash away the ache in my chest.

I reach for a glass, but a weird feeling creeps up my spine. Like I'm being watched. My skin prickles.

I turn my head and my stomach drops. A shadow outside my window. Someone is staring at me.

I freeze, gripping the edge of the counter. My pulse hammers in my ears. The figure is still, unmoving, just beyond the glass.

I blink and it's gone. What the hell? I rush to the window, peering out into the darkness, but there's nothing there.

No footprints, no sign that anyone was ever there. My hands tremble as I lock the window and step back. Maybe I imagined it.

Maybe I'm just exhausted. My mind playing tricks on me. But deep down, I know what I saw.

And I have a sinking feeling that this isn't the last time I'll see it. The next day, it starts with a phone call. I'm half asleep when my phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Groggy, I glance at the screen. No caller ID. I hesitate and then answer.

Hello. Silence. I pull the phone away, frowning.

Hello? I say again, louder this time. Still nothing.

But right as I'm about to hang up, I hear it. Breathing. Just breathing.

Slow, deliberate, like someone is waiting for me to say something else. A chill runs down my spine. I hang up.

My heart is racing now, but I shake it off. Probably just some random spam call. But then I check my call log in the morning.

The number isn't there. Like it never even happened. A few days later, the coffee shop is my safe place.

Or at least it used to be. I'm sitting by the window, scrolling mindlessly on my phone when that feeling creeps up my spine again. The one I've been trying to ignore.

That weird prickling sensation that I'm being watched. I glance outside. There's a figure standing across the street just past the glow of a street lamp dressed in dark clothes, head slightly tilted, watching.

My throat goes dry. I blink. And in that split second, the figure is gone.

I tell myself I imagined it, that I need sleep, that it was just some random guy waiting for a ride. But deep down, I don't believe that. A week later, my phone glitches while I'm in bed, just scrolling like usual.

One second, everything's normal. The next, an old picture of Jack and me pops up. Not just any picture, our anniversary picture.

I stare at it, confused. I know I deleted this. I know I did.

Then my screen flickers and another old photo appears. Jack kissing my cheek. the caption, "Forever no matter what.

" My chest tightens. I swipe up, trying to clear the app, but it won't go away. It just sits there, taunting me.

My hands are clammy as I restart my phone. When it powers back on, the photos are gone, like they were never there. But I know what I saw.

Two weeks later. "You're not going to believe this," Alex says, sliding into the cafe booth across from me. I sigh, stirring my coffee.

Try me. Alex leans in, lowering their voice. I saw Jack.

My stomach drops. What? Yesterday near your apartment.

Alex watches my face carefully. He wasn't doing anything, just standing there watching. A heavy weight settles in my chest.

I want to tell them they're wrong, that they're imagining things, but I know they're not because I've felt it, seen it. Jack's been watching me, and now I can't ignore it anymore. 2 days later, I lean forward, gripping the coffee cup like it's the only thing keeping me grounded.

Okay, I know this sounds crazy, but I think Jack is watching me. Across from me, Ethan raises an eyebrow. He's always been the logical one, the guy who sees everything in black and white.

As an official detective in the police department, he's not the type to entertain paranoia. Watching you how. I take a deep breath.

It started with weird phone calls. No number, just breathing on the line. Then I kept seeing this shadowy figure near my place, near the cafe, and my phone.

Old pictures of us keep popping up even though I know I deleted them. Ethan leans back, arms crossed. You're sure it's Jack?

I hesitate. A friend saw him near my apartment. That makes Ethan pause.

Okay, that's weird. I let out a dry laugh. Yeah, no kidding.

After a pause, I add, "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I exhale. " I don't feel safe, Ethan. He studies me for a moment, then nods.

All right, you did the right thing by telling me. He pulls out a notepad. I'll look into it.

Calls, surveillance footage, anything that might give us a lead. A weight lifts off my chest, but it doesn't disappear completely because deep down I have this gut feeling. Whatever's happening, it's only getting started.

A week later, I've had enough of this. The phone calls, the weird photos, the shadow outside my window. It's messing with my head.

So, when I feel that prickling sensation again, that heavy weight of being watched, I don't hesitate. I spin around. There across the street, just barely out of the glow of the street lamp, a figure standing completely still.

My heart pounds. But this time, I don't freeze. I run.

I shove past a couple walking their dog, my breath sharp in the cold air. "Hey," I call out, hoping, knowing they can hear me. But the figure moves fast, slipping into the alley.

I sprint after them, turning the corner just in time to see nothing. The alley is empty, silent. No footsteps, no rustling, no signs that anyone was even there.

I stand there panting, hands on my knees. There's no way they could have gotten that far in just a few seconds. There's no way.

I swallow hard and step forward, scanning the darkness. Jack. My voice echoes slightly, and I hate how uncertain I sound.

Nothing. I exhale, backing away. This isn't normal.

No one moves like that. No one disappears like that. I turn around and head home, my pulse still racing.

Whoever this is, they're playing games with me. And I'm starting to wonder if I'm the only one following them or if they're just waiting for the right moment to stop running. Two weeks later, I finally corner him.

It's been days of chasing shadows, a feeling like I'm losing my mind. But now, now I have him. Jack stands near the old bookstore, hood up, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he's trying to disappear.

Too bad I'm not letting him. Jack. My voice is sharp and quiet night.

He flinches but doesn't turn right away. I see his shoulders tense like he's weighing his options. Run again or face me.

I step closer. Don't even think about it. Jack exhales heavily and finally finally turns to face me.

It's like a punch to the gut. He looks the same and different. Same deep black hair, same sharp green eyes, but there's something else now.

Something heavier. He looks exhausted and worn down like he's been carrying the weight of the world on his back. I don't care.

Not right now. What the hell is wrong with you? I snap.

Why have you been following me? He shakes his head. Noah, I can't.

You can't what? Explain because I think you can. My voice is rising, my heart pounding.

You disappeared for 2 years and now suddenly you're everywhere. The calls, the photos, the I gesture wildly. I wake up in the middle of the night and I see a shadow at my damn window.

Do you have any idea how that feels? Jack's jaw tightens. I wasn't trying to scare you.

Then what are you doing? Silence. He shifts, glancing around like he's checking for an escape route.

I step in front of him. No, I say firmly. You don't get to do this.

You don't get to run again. My voice cracks slightly, but I push through it. I need answers, Jack.

You owe me that. His eyes flick up to mine. For a second, I think I see something crack in him, but he clenches his fists, shoving it back down.

Noah, please just let it go. Let it go. I let out a hollow laugh.

Let what go? My own safety, my own sanity. Because whatever this is, it's messing with me.

And I know you, Jack. I know when you're lying, so stop it. Tell me the truth.

He takes a sharp breath through his nose like he's fighting himself. Jack, I say again, softer this time. Please.

His shoulders drop. And when he looks at me, I see it. Fear, guilt, regret.

And finally, he speaks. I was broke, he says, voice barely above a whisper. Two years ago, right before we broke up, I never told you how bad it was.

I freeze. Jack swallows hard, staring at the ground. I was drowning in debt.

Rent, loans, bills. I was behind on everything. I thought I could fix it, but every month I just sank deeper.

And I couldn't I couldn't tell you. He lets out a shaky breath. Then I met someone.

A guy who said he could help. Quick money, no questions asked. A sick feeling curls in my stomach.

Jack. He shakes his head. At first, it was small things, stupid things.

Running packages, moving cash, nothing that seemed dangerous. But then the job started changing. His voice is tight.

More than just deliveries, more than just money. I saw things. Noah did things.

And I couldn't. I wouldn't. His hands are shaking now.

I want it out. But Victor, he doesn't let people leave. Victor, the way Jack said his name sent ice through my veins.

Jack looks up at me, his eyes haunted. That's why I let you go, Noah. That's why I walked away.

I thought if I cut you out of my life, you'd be safe. That Victor would never know about you. His voice waver, but he does now.

And he thinks you're leverage. The world tilts for a second. He's coming for you, Noah.

Jack's voice is barely above a whisper. And I don't know if I can stop him. Later that night, I tell myself, "I'm done.

I don't need to hear anymore. " Jack's words keep looping in my head. All this time, I thought I was just stalked by my ex, which I was.

But to think such dangerous people were also keeping an eye on me and I never even realized. Victor, the gang, the danger. But I refuse to get involved.

This is his problem, not mine. I go home, lock my door, and try to pretend everything is normal. Then I get the text.

Unknown number. Stay out of this. I stare at my screen, heart hammering.

It could be spam, a prank, but something about it feels off. Then another message. Unknown number.

We know where you live. My stomach drops. Before I can even process it, a photo pops up.

It's my apartment building taken from across the street. I rush to the window, hands shaking. The street is mostly empty.

No one looks suspicious, but someone was here watching. I slammed the curtains shut and stepped back, breathing hard. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

A week later, I barely slept that night. Every creek, every shadow outside my window keeps me on edge. By morning, I convince myself I overreacted.

Maybe it was just a scare tactic. Maybe. Then I walk into my apartment and everything is wrong.

My couch cushions are slashed open. My cabinets are thrown open. Dishes shattered on the floor.

My bookshelves are knocked over. Papers scattered everywhere. My front door was locked.

Someone broke in. Someone wanted me to know they could get to me anytime they wanted. I step further inside, my heart pounding.

That's when I see it spray painted across my wall in huge jagged letters. Stay away. I stumble back, breathing hard.

I need to call Ethan. I need to call Jack. A week later, I tell myself I'm going to work.

Going to pretend everything is normal. What else can I do? But halfway through my shift at the cafe, my phone rings.

It's Ethan. Where are you? His voice is sharp.

Urgent. At work. Why?

My stomach clenches. It's Mason. My breath catches.

Mason, our mutual friend, the one I had told about the stalking. What happened? I ask, already moving toward the exit.

Ethan hesitates. He got jumped. Cold spreads through my chest.

I rush to the hospital, my mind racing. Mason is bruised, bandaged, and clearly shaken. When he sees me, he forces a weak smile.

Guess you weren't being paranoid after all," he mutters. I sit beside him. "Who did this?

" His expression hardens. "They didn't say much, just one thing. " I brace myself.

"What? " He looks me dead in the eye. "They said you should have listened.

" An hour later, I don't go home. I don't go to work. I go straight to Jack's place.

He opened the door, surprised to see me. Then his eyes flicked my face and his expression darkens. Something happened.

I push past him inside. I'm in. Jack shuts the door.

What? I turn to face him. You said Victor wants to use me as leverage.

That he won't stop. My hands clench into fists. Well, I'm not just going to sit around and wait for it to happen.

So, if you have a plan to stop him, I want in. Jack exhales slowly, watching me. Then, finally, he nods.

All right, he says. Then, let's end this. 3 days later, Jack and I crouch behind a stack of crates, the damp air thick with the scent of gasoline and rust.

The warehouse is mostly dark except for the faint glow of a few overhead lights. This is where they move the cash, Jack whispers. If we can get photos of the transactions, we'll have proof.

I nod, gripping my phone tightly. My hands are sweaty. My heart is pounding.

What the hell am I even doing here? We wait. Minutes feel like hours.

And then footsteps. Group of men enters, dragging heavy duffel bags. One of them unzips a bag, revealing stacks of cash.

My stomach tightens. Jack nudges me now. I lift my phone, snapping quick photos.

Every instinct in me is screaming to run, but we need this. We need to prove what Victor is doing. Then my phone screen flickers.

Before I can react, a sharp voice cuts through the air. You think we wouldn't notice? The overhead lights flash on, blinding us.

Jack grabs my arm, but it's too late. A man steps forward, and even though I've never met him, I know who he is. The way the others shift uneasily around him, the sharp knowing grin on his face.

Victor. Nice try, he says, amused. But you're going to have to do better than that.

An hour later, Jack and I race into my apartment, slamming the door behind us. My heart is still hammering from the close call at the warehouse. "Send me the photos," Jack says, pacing.

"We'll back them up. Send them to Ethan. I'm already unlocking my phone, scrolling through my gallery.

But the second I open it, my stomach drops. The photos are gone. Every single one.

I blink, refreshing the album. Nothing. It's like they never existed.

Jack notices my silence. Noah. I look up at him, my voice hollow.

They're gone. He rushes over, grabbing my phone. His jaw tightens as he scrolls.

That's not possible. You took them. I know.

I whisper. My hands are shaking. Jack, how did they Before I can finish, a new notification pops up.

Unknown number. Stay out of this. I feel sick.

Jack stares at the screen, then lets out a sharp breath, his grip tightening on my phone. He's always ahead of us, I whisper. Jack looks up, his green eyes flashing with something cold, determined.

"Not for long," he mutters. 2 days later. Jack and I sit on the floor of my apartment, papers spread out between us, receipts, phone records, and anything we managed to salvage after Victor wiped the warehouse photos.

It's a mess, but it's all we have. Jack leans forward, tapping a receipt. This place, it's a club Victor owns.

If we can figure out who's moving the money, we can. Jack. He stops, looks at me.

I hold up my phone. You're bleeding. He blinks, then glances down at his hand.

There's a cut along his knuckles, fresh but shallow, huh? He frowns like he's just noticing it. Must have happened when we climbed that fence earlier.

I shake my head, exasperated. And you didn't think to say anything? He shrugs.

It didn't hurt. I sigh and get up, heading to the bathroom. When I come back with the first aid kit, he's watching me, that unreadable look in his eyes.

You don't have to shut up, I mutter, kneeling beside him. He doesn't move as I take his hand, carefully dabbing at the cut. His skin is warm and familiar.

Too familiar. Silence stretches between us. Not awkward, just heavy.

I focus on wrapping the bandage, but I can feel him watching me. When I glance up, his expression is softer than I expected. You still do that?

He murmurs. Do what? He tilts his head slightly.

Take care of people even when you're mad at them. I scoff. I'm not mad.

He gives me a look. Okay, fine. I sigh.

I was mad. I tape the bandage in place. Still doesn't mean I want you bleeding all over my floor.

Jack huffs a quiet laugh. And for a moment, it almost feels like before, like things were simple. Like I didn't wake up every day knowing someone wanted me dead.

But that's not real. Not anymore. I pull my hand back, clearing my throat.

All right, back to work. Jack watches me for a second longer, then he nods. Yeah, back to work.

3 days later. The alley smells like damp concrete and cigarette smoke. Jack and I press ourselves against the wall out of sight as two of Victor's guys walk past.

"That was too close," I whisper. Jack exhales, eyes scanning the street. "We need to move now.

" We slip through the alley, taking a back route toward his car. "My heart is still pounding from nearly getting caught snooping near Victor's club. " Jack pulls out his keys, but I stop him with a hand on his arm.

Wait. He looks at me tense. What?

I glance over my shoulder. We just got chased through half the city. Maybe take a second before turning on the car in case someone's waiting.

He hesitates and then nods. We wait in silence, both of us listening for anything out of place. My pulse is still racing, adrenaline buzzing under my skin.

Jack suddenly exhales a quiet laugh. I turn to him confused. What?

He shakes his head. Just you. I raise an eyebrow.

Me? Jack smirks. You used to be so impatient.

Now you're the cautious one. Yeah, well, people breaking into my apartment change that real fast. His smirk fades slightly.

I never wanted you involved in this. I know, I say. and I do.

But that doesn't change the fact that I am. Jack watches me and for the first time in a long time, I see something flicker across his face. Something old, something familiar.

I swallow hard and look away. Let's just get out of here. Jack doesn't argue, but as he starts the car, I feel his gaze linger on me for just a second longer than it should.

A week later, pain throbs in my skull as I come to. My wrists burn, tied. My vision swims before snapping into focus.

I'm in a warehouse. Not good. Footsteps echo, then a voice I know, but have never wanted to hear close up.

You really should have stayed out of this, Victor. I force myself to sit up. He stands in front of me, hands in his pockets, too calm.

Jack's going to kill you, I rasp. Victor smirks. That's the plan.

My stomach turns. You see, he continues, crouching to eye level. I don't need you dead.

I just need Jack desperate enough to come running back to me. His smirk widens. And you?

You're the perfect bait. A phone is pressed into my hand. Jack's name is on the screen.

Call him, Victor orders. Tell him if he wants you alive. He knows what to do.

I swallow hard. I could scream for help, but no one was coming. I could refuse, but I know what happens to people who say no to Victor.

My thumb hovers over the call button. Then an idea. My phone is still connected to our share drive.

If I can just I take a shaky breath and press call. A few minutes later, I don't remember much after Victor grabbed me. Just flashes.

His guys tying me to a chair. Him pacing the click of a gun too close. Then chaos.

But not from outside, from Victor's phone. his men whispering among themselves, pulling out their devices. I don't know what they're seeing, but I can guess.

Because before I made that call to Jack, I did something else. I uploaded everything. Every document, every transaction, every name tied to Victor's Empire, I sent it all to high-ranking officials, to news outlets, to Ethan, and now it's everywhere.

Victor's grip on his phone tightens as he watches the news broadcast in real time. His name, his gang, his entire operation exposed. His face darkens.

Hugh little. The punch comes so fast I don't see it. Pain explodes in my ribs as I'm knocked to the ground.

You think this changes anything? He growls, grabbing my collar and yanking me up as I burn furious. You just signed your own death warrant, kid.

The warehouse door slams open. Jack. He crashes into the room like a storm, his fist already flying before Victor can react.

The force knocks Victor back, making him stumble. I struggle to push up as Jack grabs Victor by the shirt. His voice is low, dangerous.

You touch him again and I will end you. Victor snarls, shoving Jack off. He pulls a knife, his face twisted in rage.

Should have stayed out of this, Jack. Jack barely flinches. And let you touch him.

His voice is deadly. Not a chance. They clash.

Brutal, fast, unrelenting. Victor is good, but Jack is better. He dodges the first swing and counters with a punch so hard it sends Victor reeling.

Sirens. The warehouse floods with red and blue lights. Victor turns, but it's too late.

Ethan is the first through the door, gun raised. Hands where I can see them. Jack steps back, breathing hard.

Victor barely has time to move before officers swarm him, pinning him down. Ethan meets my eyes. Relief flickers across his face before he cuffs Victor himself.

"You're done," he mutters. Victor only laughs, bloody and beaten. You think this changes anything?

Ethan tightens the cuffs. Yeah, I do. As Victor is dragged away, I finally let out a breath.

Jack is beside me in an instant, gripping my face. Are you okay? I nod, too exhausted to speak.

His hand drops to my arm, fingers tightening for just a second before he exhales, closing his eyes. It's over, he murmurs. And for the first time, I believe him.

Two days later, it's over. The words should feel real by now, but they don't. Not until I step out onto my balcony that night, feeling the absence of fear for the first time in months.

No more shadows lurking outside my apartment. No more unknown numbers calling in the middle of the night. No more victor.

Just silence. A breeze moves through the city, cool against my skin. I hear the sliding door behind me and don't need to turn around to know it's Jack.

He leans on the railing beside me, not speaking at first, just being here. You okay? He finally asks.

I huff a laugh. I think so. Jack watches me, his expression unreadable.

The bruises on his knuckles are still there, faded, but reminders of everything. I don't know why, but I reach out. My fingers brush over the cuts on his hand, tracing them lightly.

Jack doesn't move away. You didn't have to come for me, I murmur. You could have just don't.

His voice is quiet but firm. You know that wasn't an option. I do.

I always did. For a long time, we just stood there, the weight of everything settling between us. But it's not heavy anymore, not suffocating, just there.

When Jack finally speaks again, his voice is softer. You ever think about what would have happened if none of this got in the way? I swallow hard.

Yeah. His gaze lingers on me. Me, too.

I don't know what that means for us. Not yet. And for the first time, there's no running, no pretending we don't care.

And maybe that's enough for now. The next morning, I find Jack in the kitchen the next morning, coffee in one hand and phone in the other. The early light catches in his hair, making it look almost golden.

And for a moment, I just watch him. He looks comfortable here, like he belongs, like maybe he never really left. Something in my chest aches.

The kind of ache that comes with remembering just how much you've missed someone, even when you tried to convince yourself you didn't. Did you sleep okay? I ask, grabbing a mug.

Jack shrugs, but there's something softer about it this time. Better than I have in a long time. I hesitate, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

"So, what now? " Jack watches me, unreadable for a second. Then he exhales, setting his coffee down.

"That depends," he says, voice quieter now. "Are you still trying to get rid of me? " I scoff, rolling my eyes, but there's no real bite in it.

Have I ever successfully gotten rid of you? Jack smirks, but doesn't quite reach his eyes. Nope.

I shake my head, but the truth is I don't want to get rid of him. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

Jack steps closer, the teasing slipping away, his expression turns raw, vulnerable in a way I don't think I've ever seen before. I know I don't deserve a second chance, he murmurs. I know I left.

I know I hurt you. He swallows hard, eyes never leaving mine. But the only reason I never walked away was to protect you.

I would have stayed. God, I wanted to stay, but I couldn't put you in danger. I couldn't let you get hurt because of me.

My throat tightens because I know it's true. Jack risked everything for me. His life, his freedom, everything he had, and I still almost lost him.

His voice drops lower, almost pleading. I would give up all that I have and all that I am if it meant getting another chance with you. If you'll have me, I swear I won't run again.

I won't leave. Not unless you tell me to. My throat tightens.

I remember the way he threw himself in front of danger for me. How he risked his life for me without hesitation. How he was willing to lose everything just so I wouldn't.

Jack, the man who threw himself into hell for me. Who took every hit, every risk just to keep me safe, stands in front of me now, asking for something he doesn't think he deserves. But he does.

He always has. I set my coffee down and step closer. Close enough that I can feel his warmth, his presence.

Jack, I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. I never wanted you to go. I wanted you to stay.

Even when it hurt, even when I didn't understand, I never stopped wanting you. His breath catches, and for the first time, I see it. The flicker of hope in his eyes, the fragile, trembling hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll say yes.

I reach for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. We don't have to figure everything out right now. We don't have to force anything, but if you still My voice waivers, but I press on.

If you still want this, then I do, too. Jack exhales sharply, almost like he's been holding his breath this whole time. He squeezes my hand, grounding himself, grounding me.

Yeah. Yeah. His breath shuddters slightly, relief and something else flickering across his face.

Then before I can think, he's closing the distance. His arms wrap around me, pulling me in like he never wants to let go. And I sink into him, breathing him in, memorizing the way he feels against me again.

And when he finally pulls back, just enough to meet my eyes. There's no hesitation this time, no fear, just him and me and everything we never stopped wanting. Jack leans in, his lips brushing against mine, gentle at first, almost hesitant, but then I kiss him back.

And just like that, we're us again. No lies, no running, just us. Conclusion.

A year later, Jack proposed. No grand gestures, no over-the-top speeches, just him, a ring, and a quiet stay with me forever. It made my heart feel like it would burst.

And of course, I said yes. We had been together once, then torn apart. Life has thrown us into chaos, danger, and fear.

But somehow, we always found our way back. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just us.

two people who never really stopped loving each other, no matter how much time passed. Now we don't have to run. We don't have to fight for survival.

We just get to be. And as I look at Jack, I know this is where I was always meant to be with him forever. The end.

Would you have given Jack a second chance if you were Noah? Thanks for watching. Consider subscribing to become a part of our rainbow force and stay wholesome.