Page 128 of Mine To Hunt

"That is exactly what he does to me." I say quietly. "Did it escalate from there? How did he make it worse?"

Mily does not answer immediately. Her gaze drifts to the surface of her tea as if the memory is written there. When she finally speaks, her voice carries a tremor she is trying to suppress.

"At first, I thought it was someone from class playing a prank." She says. "Harmless. Immature. Something that would burn out once I stopped reacting."

She clasps her hands together tightly, knuckles whitening.

"Then he sent an intimate video of me with my boyfriend to the whole university." She continues, each word deliberate. "Exposing me in the most humiliating way possible."

I inhale sharply. "That is awful. He did something similar to me. It spread faster than I could even process what was happening."

Mily nods slowly, the sympathy in her eyes unguarded now.

"The escalation was gradual but relentless." She says. "He never approached me directly at first. It was as if he enjoyed watching me unravel from a distance. No confrontation. No face. Just control."

"What do you mean by enjoyed watching you unravel?" I ask. "Did he react to how you felt?"

Her lips press together briefly before she answers.

"Yes. When I changed my routine, he noticed. If I took a different route home, he would text me about the original one. If I deleted my social media, he would mention something I had said in person to someone else."

She exhales slowly.

"Once, right after I confided in a friend about him, he sent a message quoting what I had said. Word for word. It proved he was listening."

My stomach drops. "He does that to me too. The timing is immediate. Like he’s in the walls."

Mily’s eyes flicker with understanding. "It makes you doubt your own mind." She says. "You start wondering if you are imagining patterns. But you’re not."

She grows quieter, more focused.

"He manipulated situations to make me look unstable." She continues. "Rumors at my job. Subtle comments to people I trusted. Soon, they were watching me with suspicion instead of concern."

I lean forward. "Did he ever send you pictures of someone else? Like someone entering your house?"

For a second, she looks confused, searching her memory.

"Pictures of someone else?" She repeats.

"Or threats directed at someone close to you." I clarify.

Her expression changes. Tightens.

"Not exactly that." She says slowly. "But once, he sent me a picture of my father coming home from work."

She swallows. "The caption said,‘You shouldn’t involve people.’"

The words hang heavy in the air.

"That is the kind of thing he does to me." I whisper. "Warnings. Subtle, but clear."

Mily nods.

"No one believed me at first." She says. "They thought I was exaggerating. That I was seeking attention. He anticipated every move I made to expose him. Every attempt I made to protect myself."

"The fear becomes cumulative." She says. "It does not explode all at once. It builds. You wake up already exhausted."

Her gaze drifts again, distant.