The morning sun slipped lazily through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Erica was still fast asleep, her gentle breathing filling the quiet hostel. The only sound that disturbed the peace was Racheal's phone, buzzing relentlessly on the small table beside her bed.
At first, she tried to ignore it, burying her face deeper into the pillow. But after the call came through for the third… then the fourth time, frustration finally dragged her from her half-sleep. With heavy eyelids and tousled hair, she reached for the phone and pressed it to her ear.
The moment she heard the voice, her entire body froze.
A deep, commanding voice cut through her drowsiness like a blade.
"Come outside. Now. Or I'll come in myself."
Her breath caught, her fingers trembling around the phone. That voice… She didn't need to wonder—it belonged to him. The one person she had hoped wouldn't find his way into her private space.
Why is he here? And this early in the morning? Her thoughts spiraled. Did he come to torment me again, or is there something else he wants? The uncertainty gnawed at her, sending shivers racing down her spine.
She turned slightly, glancing at Erica, who remained curled up on her bed, blissfully unaware of the tension crushing the air. I can't wake her. She doesn't need to be dragged into this. With that decision made, Racheal quietly slipped out from under her blanket.
Still wearing her soft, oversized nightshirt that fell just above her knees, she tugged on a loose cardigan to shield herself from the morning chill. Her hair was slightly messy, her face still heavy with sleep, but there was no time to fix anything. Why do I even care how I look? He's not here to admire me… right?
The chill of the corridor hit her as she stepped outside, but it wasn't the cold that made her shiver—it was the sight waiting for her.
There he was. Standing beside his sleek car like he owned the entire world, arms crossed firmly over his chest. The air around him carried the kind of authority that pulled every gaze, even if you wanted to look away.
Her eyes skimmed over his fitted black shirt, the way it outlined his toned frame, down to the dark jeans that clung neatly to his lean figure. Even without trying, he looked breathtaking—like he had stepped straight out of a magazine shoot.
Racheal's lips pressed into a thin line, her heart hammering. Why does he always have to look so good? It's unfair. People like him shouldn't exist—beautiful on the outside, terrifying on the inside.
She swallowed hard, her steps slow and cautious, every instinct screaming at her to turn back. But curiosity and fear chained her to the moment.
With a deep breath, Racheal began walking toward him, each step echoing the storm of questions inside her.
What does he want from me this time?