He Called Me His Stalker
Language: en
The sex had been slow and heavy, leaving a lingering heat in the air. Afterward, I watched Nate standing at the stove, his back to me as he hummed a tune and stirred a pot of midnight pasta. He was wearing nothing but his boxers and my floral apron, looking every bit the devoted partner. I caught the scene on video—the steam rising, the casual grace of his movements—and posted it to my feed before drifting off to sleep. When I checked my phone the next morning, the view count had spiked over ten thousand. But as I scrolled through the analytics, something felt wrong. Every single view came…