[HARU'S POV]
She wasn't like the others.
That's what made her dangerous.
Most girls wore their desires like perfume — sweet, sharp, and obvious. They wanted to be noticed, touched, claimed. They followed him with their eyes, flirted with their bodies, laughed too loud, smiled too easily.
But Aara didn't even try to be invisible.
She simply was.
A ghost with fists made of iron and eyes that refused to beg.
She wasn't scared of him.
And that terrified him in all the right ways.
He stood near the back of the warehouse ring, arms crossed, watching her fight like she had nothing to lose.
She didn't dodge the hits. Not all of them. Some she let land — like she needed the pain to remember she was still alive.
That's when Haru realized something important:
She wasn't trying to win.She was trying to survive losing.
That was worse.
And far more beautiful.
After the fight, he waited.
Didn't speak. Just watched as she staggered into the locker room, alone, clutching her side.
No medics. No friends. No one.
He followed ten minutes later, casually lighting a cigarette as he stepped past the "No Entry" sign.
The room was dim. Fluorescent lights flickered. Old lockers lined the walls like corpses.
She sat on a bench in front of one, hoodie half-zipped, mask tossed beside her.
Her bare skin was streaked with bruises — ribcage, stomach, arms.
He took a step forward.
She didn't flinch. Didn't look up.
"You followed me again," she said, voice hoarse.
"You noticed."
"Hard not to. You stare like a stray dog looking through a butcher shop window."
He smirked. "You comparing yourself to raw meat?"
"I'm comparing you to something hungry and dangerous."
"And what if I am?"
Finally, she looked up.
Their eyes locked.
And for a moment — just one — he felt it.
The pull.
That dark, electric thing between them that wasn't love. Not yet.
But it could be.
If he wanted to ruin her.Or save her.Or both.
He stepped closer.
She didn't move.
"Why?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Following me. Watching me. Acting like you care. You don't even know me."
He crouched in front of her, elbows on his knees, eyes level with hers.
"I don't need to know you," he said. "I see enough."
"See what?"
"That you're breaking."
Her lips tightened.
"You're wrong."
"No," he said, softer now. "I'm just the first person honest enough to say it."
[AARA'S POV]
She wanted to hit him.
Or kiss him.
Or scream.
But she did none of those things. Because that's exactly what Haru wanted.
To get inside her head. To unravel her.
She stood, slowly, wrapping her hoodie tighter around her body.
"You have a nice life," she muttered. "Money. Status. Family name. Go bother someone who wants to be saved."
He straightened, watching her like a predator tracking a deer too tired to run.
"I'm not offering to save you," he said.
She paused.
"I'm offering to break the world that broke you."
[Later That Night]
Aara stumbled through the front door of her house just after 2 a.m.
Her mother was on the floor again. Empty bottle. Spilled pills. Snoring.
There was no food in the fridge.
No light in the kitchen.
No sign of Ayin.
The only thing waiting for her was a text:
From: Unknown Number"I meant it.I'll ruin everything that hurts you.–H."
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she deleted it.
She wasn't ready for whatever that was.
Not yet.