My husband’s coworker started stalking me after my husband passed away.

 The Coincidences End

I remember going out to the grocery store the next day, and as anticipated, he was there. As I reached for a box of cereal, I felt like someone was watching me. At first, I shook off the feeling. I thought I was just being paranoid.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was him. At first, I pretended not to see him. My heart started beating faster.

I hoped he would just go away. But as I moved to the next aisle, there he was again. He was standing by the pasta section, peeking around the shelf.

The moment I looked up, he ducked behind a display of tomato sauce trying to appear casual. I had a feeling he was once again here to just somehow run into me. I continued shopping.

Every time I glanced over my shoulder, he was there, always pretending to be looking at something nearby. He picked up a box of spaghetti, examined it, and then put it back.

All the while, he was keeping me in his peripheral vision. I turned into the next aisle, and moments later, he followed. This time, he was looking at the spices.

He picked up a jar of oregano, then basil, then oregano again. I felt his eyes on me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. The final straw was when I reached the dairy section.

As I grabbed a carton of eggs, I saw him in the reflection of the glass doors. He was standing a few feet away, pretending to check the expiration dates on yogurts.

Our eyes met in the reflection, and for a split second, he froze. Then, as if he realized he’d been caught, he quickly ducked behind a display of cheese. He knocked over a stack of shredded packages.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I left my card at the front of the store, my only thought being to get out of there as quickly as possible.

But just as I reached the exit, I heard his voice behind me. He called out to me and asked me to wait up. Then he proceeded to try to make a conversation.

It always opened up with a “fancy seeing you here”. Most of the times before this, I let the conversation go on way too long. This was exactly how this psycho allowed himself to be so brave.

This time, however, I ended our conversation short and told him I had to go finish more errands. I didn’t wait for his response. Once I was safely in my car, I locked the doors and sat there for a moment.

After that day, I stopped going grocery shopping there. Then I started seeing him at the coffee shops that I went to regularly. He often sat at a table by the window.

Each time, he acted like our encounters were just coincidences. Weeks went by, and his appearances became more frequent. I tried to ignore him, but his persistence wore me down.

One evening after a particularly rough day, I found myself at the coffee shop again. The memories of my late husband David were overwhelming, and I felt so vulnerable.

As if on cue, the coworker was there. He looked genuinely concerned. He asked me if I was okay and told me I looked like I could use a friend.

He said since we had already grabbed coffee, maybe I wouldn’t mind if he sat with me for a while. Against my better judgment, I nodded and let him sit with me.

We talked for hours, and for a brief moment, I felt a bit more normal since David died. When he suggested we continue our conversation at his place, I hesitated but eventually agreed.

The loneliness was unbearable, and I craved human connection. We ended up in his apartment. It was a small but neatly kept space.

I sat on his couch while he went to grab some glasses of wine. The warmth of the drink slowly eased the tension from my body.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. I had warned myself I wouldn’t do something like this again, but here I was. He watched me and said that it must have been a rough few months for me.

I nodded and felt a lump in my throat. I opened up about how hard it was losing David. It truly felt like a part of me died with him.

I feel so lost and alone now.

He told me how understandable that was and talked highly of David. He acknowledged how he saw something truly special between us.

I choked back tears as he spoke. I told him how often I replayed our last moments together and wondered if there was something that I could have done better.

I told him how guilty I felt by even being here talking with him. Then he reached out and held my hand.

At first, I jumped at the thought of him touching me. Then he said that grief wasn’t linear.

He reassured me that it’s messy and complicated, and that there was no right or wrong way to feel. He then looked me in the eyes and said that he knew how much I loved David.

He added that now I had to take care of myself. He made me feel safe in that moment. His sincerity was disarming.

For the first time in a long while, I felt truly seen and understood. I told him thank you and how much it meant to hear that.

I spent a few more hours opening up to him about my thoughts and fears. One thing led to another, and we slept together.

But as the sun rose and I heard the birds chirping, reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt regretful for what I’d done. I felt like I had betrayed David.

I told him that this was a mistake and that I was still grieving David. I told him that I couldn’t do this anymore.

His expression darkened for a moment, but then he nodded and his smile returned. He said he understood and that we could take it slow. But he didn’t understand—not really.

After that night, his obsession grew.