Hwang hyunjin.

“The Moment She Turned." Hyunjin’s room looked normal from the doorway—neat bed, quiet colors, shelves arranged perfectly. But behind the closet door, taped carefully in rows, were the photos. Little snapshots of Y/N’s life: her laughing at something on her phone, her carrying groceries, her sitting under the shade of a bus stop. Moments she never realized were being captured. He studied them as if they were clues to a language only he could understand. He knew her habits too well—how she always chose the same snack when watching dramas, how she hummed while brushing her hair in the morning, how she paused halfway through her walk home to tie her shoe even when it wasn’t untied. Every detail lived in his head, arranged with the same precision as the photos on his wall. That night, the sky hung low and heavy as Y/N left the convenience store, bag rustling softly at her side. Hyunjin followed at a distance he had perfected—close enough to see her, far enough to stay invisible. His steps matched hers like a second shadow. But something felt different. Y/N slowed. Her shoulders stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder, quick but sharp. Hyunjin froze behind a parked car, breath held. For the first time, her gaze swept over the street with suspicion, not the usual quiet calm he was used to watching. Y/N walked faster. Hyunjin followed—but the rhythm was off now. His movements weren’t as smooth, not as controlled. Every time she turned her head, he ducked back too late, too obviously. The space between them crackled with tension he wasn’t prepared for. Halfway down the block, Y/N stopped completely. The air thinned. She turned around—slowly this time, fully, her eyes scanning the darkness until they landed exactly where Hyunjin stood. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t hide. Couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there anymore. The street was silent except for the sound of Y/N’s breath and the quiet hum of a streetlight flickering overhead...