I was just running errands when it happened. A man, shopping with his young daughter, left her by the shelves so he could make a lap around the store and try to chat me up.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing violent. But enough to leave me shaken.

What struck me wasn’t his behaviour so much as my reaction. In seconds, I cycled through possible responses, blamed myself for being too complacent, and finally landed on fear, tinged with anger. I was robbed. Not of any physical possessions, but of my perceived safe space.

This is the cost of peace of mind. It is a very real, lived experience for many women. We maintain constant vigilance by scanning for exits and allies. We rehearse “safe responses” and have most likely perfected “the smile.” We go through these moments, slowly draining our energy and attention.

Men often don’t see this burden. They advise us not to pay attention. To them, “he was just being friendly.” But if friendliness feels like a threat, maybe the problem isn’t us “overreacting”. Maybe it’s the reality women have learnt to manage.

Because the truth is, we just don’t know. We don’t know if the stranger following us has the same commute. We don’t know the true price of rejecting “friendliness”. For most men, the worst that can happen is a woman says no. For some women, that two letter word cost them their lives.

That not-knowing is the cost.

And it’s not just personal. It’s systemic.

If I lost an hour of productivity over a simple incident, what would happen if things had escalated? Amplify that with global studies estimates that at least 80% of women experience occasional street harassment and you have yourself a whole lot of time lost due to a “harmless interaction”. That’s a drain on creativity, focus, and productivity. Peace of mind, in other words, is not free. Women buy it daily with caution and self-restraint.

Women have been rehearsing precautions for as long as we can remember; changing routes, sharing locations, pretending to be on the phone. Each precaution comes from the same account of mental energy. Over time, that account runs down. Yet the burden continues to be placed on women, as if we are not doing enough. Markets often talk about efficiency. Is it truly efficient if half the population are paying just to exist?

Investors already account for climate risk, labour standards and board diversity. Why not the lived safety of women who make up half the workforce, or the consumer confidence of women in public spaces? Perhaps it’s time to start lifting the burden from women and create safe spaces for everyone?

When women avoid industries with late hours, turn down jobs that require unsafe commutes, or skip networking events that run into the night, the economy loses. Markets lose talent. Businesses lose innovation. These are not “soft” issues, they are structural determinants of participation.

And the irony is this: what women want most isn’t safety gear or elaborate strategies. It’s normalcy. To run errands without interruption. To shop without rehearsing exit plans. To go home with groceries and nothing more on their minds.

That is the unpriced cost of women’s safety, and until we recognise it, we all keep paying the bill.