call the police (there's a madman around).

Aeri was what people call an ‘‘it girl’’.

Not just famous - unavoidable.

Her face on billboards in cities she herself had never heard of. Advertisements, magazine covers. Anywhere you could think of, there she was. Her music played in clubs, cafés, hell, even in the little corner stores owned by grumpy old men that didn’t like anyone.

Loved by all, that was Aeri.

They loved how sincere she appeared crying when she won awards. The way she’d always cover her mouth before bursting out into laughter. Her fans thought she was the second reincarnation of God walking this Earth. Brands called her marketable. Journalists called her untouchable.

But there was one man who looked at her like she was neither.

A paparazzo with a perpetual scowl and a camera perpetually hanging around his neck like a loaded weapon.

Aeri loathed him.

He never shouted her name like the others did. Never begged for a smile. Never looked happy to see her. All the others fought each other for the best shot, a flattering angle. Him? He always seemed to catch her at her worst. Puffy-eyed after long flights, exhausted, drunk with a cigarette between her lips despite the carefully curated “clean” image her company pushed.

He was the bane of her existence.

The worst part of it all?

He was everywhere.

Outside hotels.

Outside restaurants.

Outside recording studios at ungodly hours of the night.

Always lingering in the dark, permanent scowl on his lips.

“It’s like you’re obsessed with me,” Aeri snapped one night while climbing into a car after her schedule ran overtime.

Camera flashes exploded around her.

He lowered his camera just enough for her to see the unimpressed arch of his brow. “You’re the one who keeps showing up where I’m working.”

The audacity nearly made her choke.

“You ruined my airport photos last week.”

“You looked tired.”

“I was tired.”

‘‘Guess I was just giving the people the truth then.’’

God, she really fucking hated him.

The worst part of it all?

The public adored their interactions, almost like they fed off it.

Every interaction they had went viral. Clips of Aeri glaring daggers at him outside restaurants, cussing him out racked up millions of views overnight.

The comments came flooding in, ‘‘Aeri versus that one rude paparazzi’’ became a trending topic.

‘‘The tension between them is insane.’’

‘‘Enemies to lovers fr.’’

‘‘Aeri looks ready to commit murder😭’’

So much traction. It only made Aeri hate him more.

Because while everyone else treated her irritation like entertainment, he never reacted at all. No smug grin, no satisfaction, nothing. Just that same blank expression beneath the flicker of camera flashes, like she had no affect whatsoever on him.

Tonight had already been catastrophic before he appeared.

Interview after interview followed by a live performance. An evening of listening to executives talk to her like they owned her. All she could do was smile. Pretend. Because the truth is, they did own her.

By the time she arrived to the hotel through the underground parking garage, she was exhausted.

Her manager was still talking beside her, nagging.

“You cannot keep smoking in public, Aeri. Do you know how much damage control we had to do after those photos-”

“Oh my God, I know, let me breathe,” she snapped.

“No, I don’t think you actually understand that your actions have consequences.”

The sharp click of a camera cut through the argument.

Aeri froze.

There he was.

Leaning against his car, dark hoodie pulled over his head - camera raised, pointed at her.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” she hissed.

Her manager muttered a curse beneath his breath, rubbing his face with his hands.

Click.

Another flash.

Aeri stormed toward him before her manager could stop her.