The storm had grown wild. Rain hit the windshield like tiny knives as Arya drove down the empty road. Her wipers struggled to keep up. The trees on both sides bent with the wind, and the sky kept flashing with lightning.
Then, it happened.
A man suddenly appeared in front of her car. She slammed the brakes. The tires screamed, and the car skidded a little before stopping.
Arya jumped out.
Her heart was racing. She rushed toward the man. He was lying on the road, soaked and bleeding. In his arms, he held a small baby wrapped in a thin blanket.
"Sir! Can you hear me?" Arya shouted over the rain.
He didn't respond. Blood dripped from his head. His eyes fluttered shut, but before that, he stretched out his arms.
Arya quickly took the baby from him before he collapsed completely.
The baby cried softly. Arya wrapped her coat around the little one and looked down at the man. She couldn't leave them there. She had to help.
She picked up the baby, opened the back seat of her car, and laid her down safely. Then, using all her strength, she dragged the wounded man into the car too.
The storm roared louder, but Arya didn't care.
She drove away, her hands tight on the steering wheel, her mind filled with worry. The baby's soft breathing and the man's lifeless body made the car feel heavier than it was.
She whispered, "Hold on. Just hold on."
The rain had stopped by the time Arya reached her house. The night was still, but not peaceful. The kind of silence that comes after something breaks.
She carefully carried the man inside and laid him on the couch. Then she picked up the baby, who had fallen asleep again. The little one was warm, her small fingers wrapped tightly around a piece of the blanket.
Arya looked at the man. His wounds were deep. He had lost too much blood. His breathing was faint. She checked his pulse — slow, fading.
"No... please don't die…" she whispered.
She looked at the baby, then back at him. She knew what she had to do. It was the only way.
She went to the kitchen and opened a secret drawer. Inside, there was a small glass vial filled with red liquid — vampire blood.
She stood over the man. "Forgive me," she said.
She poured the liquid into his mouth. At first, nothing happened. Then his body jerked slightly. His fingers twitched. His chest rose with a long, sharp breath.
Arya waited.
The man's wounds slowly started to disappear — skin knitting back together, color returning to his face.
She sat beside him, watching. Hours passed. The baby slept peacefully in her arms.
Finally, as dawn touched the sky, the man opened his eyes.
He was alive.
The man looked around the room, confused. He sat up suddenly, panic in his eyes. "My baby—"
"She's safe," Arya said softly, walking in with the little girl.
The man's face changed. He held out his arms. Arya gently placed the baby in them.
"My daughter…" he whispered, tears in his eyes.
Arya gave him a small smile. "You're lucky I found you in time."
He looked at her with gratitude. "Thank you… thank you for saving us."
Arya nodded. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," he replied. But then he paused. "Wait… my wounds… they're gone."
Arya's smile faded. She sat on the chair next to him. "There's something I need to tell you."
He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
The silence in the room grew heavy. Only the soft crackle of a fire in the corner could be heard. Then lightning flashed again outside, though the storm had passed.
Arya finally said, "You were dying. I had no choice. To save your life… I turned you."
He blinked. "Turned me?"
"You're not human anymore," Arya whispered. "You're a vampire now."
The words fell like ice. The man didn't move. His hands tightened around the baby, who still slept quietly.
"I'm… a vampire?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Arya nodded slowly.
He stood up, his face pale. "No. This isn't real. I need to leave."
But before he could take a step, Arya moved faster than he could see. In a blink, she stood in front of him, blocking his path.
"You can't leave," she said gently. "They're looking for you. And her."