He Watched Me Freeze Now He Begs For My Return Chapter 18
The next day, Caleb was still standing downstairs from my office, breakfast in hand, as if my warning had never happened.
I didn’t go down. I didn’t answer his messages. I just called my lawyer.
“Start the filing.”
I submitted every piece of evidence to the court: dozens of harassing texts, security footage from my building, and the written warning he had refused to accept.
In my statement, I stuck to the facts.
“His repeated presence makes me feel unsafe and seriously disrupts my work and daily life. I have clearly asked him to stop, and he has refused to respect my boundaries.”
The court granted my request, approving a two-year stalking no-contact order.
The order was explicit: Caleb was not to come within one thousand feet of my home or workplace, and he was not to contact me in any form—by phone, text, email, gifts, or through third parties.
When I stepped out of the courthouse, the Chicago wind felt lighter than it ever had before.
When the stalking no-contact order was served, the devotion on Caleb’s face finally hardened into something else.