The rain came down in heavy sheets, drowning the sound of traffic in the city. Streetlights flickered through the downpour, painting the wet pavement in gold and red reflections. Olivia pulled her coat tighter around herself, her cheap umbrella trembling under the wind. She hated nights like this—cold, endless, and lonely.
Her heels splashed through puddles as she hurried across the intersection. Late again. Her manager had already warned her twice this week. One more delay, and she could lose the only job that barely kept her afloat.
"Not tonight," she whispered to herself, forcing her pace faster.
But as she stepped off the curb, the world tilted. Her foot slipped on the slick concrete. Before she could fall, a hand gripped her wrist—firm, cold, unshakeable.
"Careful," a low voice said, almost drowned by the storm.
Olivia froze. Standing before her was a stranger. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark coat soaked with rain, yet he stood as if the storm couldn't touch him. His face was shadowed by the night, but his eyes—sharp, piercing—glowed faintly beneath the streetlight.
She yanked her hand back. "I don't need your help."
The stranger raised an eyebrow, almost amused. "You'd rather land face-first in the mud? That would've been entertaining."
Her irritation flared. "And you'd rather stand here, mocking women in the rain? Guess we both have our hobbies."
For a moment, his lips curved into the faintest smirk. But then something flickered in his expression—something unguarded, almost sad—before it vanished as quickly as it came.
The traffic light turned green. Olivia brushed past him, her heels clicking against wet pavement. She didn't look back. She didn't want to.
Yet when she reached the other side of the street, her chest felt tight. Against her better judgement, she turned.
The stranger was still there. Still watching her. Rain poured down his face, but he didn't move. Didn't blink.
Her pulse quickened.
Why was he still standing there?And why… why did it feel like he had been waiting for her?