Flashback
"Sir, can I go home? Please? My shift ended over thirty minutes ago, and at this point I won't even get public transport if I'm late."
I shamelessly pleaded again, though it was already the fourth time he'd rejected me.
Outside the convenience store window, the road was unsettlingly empty-nothing like the usual crowded evenings.
"Jurin, it's only 10 p.m.," my boss barked, his voice echoing through the cramped room. He barely glanced up from the stack of papers in his hands while the rest of us scrambled to sort the boxes delivered just an hour ago.
"Can't you see how much came in? We have to finish this tonight. Tomorrow's a holiday, and I'll be the one in trouble if it's not done. It's almost over-just finish this last task, then you can go."
He sat down heavily, crossing his legs like he was the one exhausted.
By the time he finally dismissed us, it was 10:45. Relief washed over me, but dread quickly followed.
I was the only woman here, and going home alone at this hour always made me tense.
Haein, one of my coworkers, kindly hailed a taxi for me. I barely managed to whisper a thank-you before slipping inside.
My body sagged against the seat. What a day. What a terrible, endless day.
Then-suddenly-the taxi slowed and pulled to the side of the road.My stomach lurched.
Why are we stopping?
The street was deserted. Shadows stretched across the pavement, and I saw no one.
My fingers tightened around the sharp object inside my bag, ready to defend myself if necessary.
Then I heard a woman's laugh.
A couple walked past, and my chest unclenched-until my eyes landed on him.
Sank Yvestine.
Of course. Again, with yet another girl hanging off his arm. Just how many women does this man play with? What a disgusting excuse of a human being.
But then my gaze dropped.
The bag in his hand. Black. Worn. A duffel almost identical to mine.
My breath hitched.
When I looked up, I caught his stare. For one long second, his eyes locked with mine through the glass. Cold. Unblinking. My heart tripped, and I tore my gaze away.
Why the hell am I staring at some stranger?
They murmured sweet things to each other before he finally left her side and approached the car. The back door opened-then stopped.
His eyes flicked toward me, and instead of sliding in beside me, he walked around to the front and took the passenger seat.
Good.
I didn't want him near me either. Still, being in the same car with two men at this hour made my skin prickle. I just wanted to get home.
-----
The car jerked suddenly. My head slammed against the door.
"Ow! What the hell-are you trying to kill me?"
"S-sorry, ma'am," the driver stammered. "An animal ran across the road."
I groaned, rubbing my head. On the floor, two bags had tumbled together-mine and his. I bent down, grabbing both before the car could jerk again.
But then-his hand closed around mine.
"Don't touch," he said softly, voice edged with command.
I froze, frowning. Does he think I'm stealing?
"I was just helping," I yanked my hand back immediately. "Whatever." My voice was sharp.
"Stop here," I ordered as we neared my street.
The driver pulled over. I paid quickly, slipping out into the empty night. Alone.
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Present time
Shit.
I never even checked the bag. Not once.
The duffel sat in the corner, too still, too silent—as though it had been waiting all this time.
My chest seized. My fingers trembled as I reached toward it, then froze. A memory slashed through me: his eyes in the taxi mirror, unblinking. The weight of his hand closing over mine. Don't touch.
Tears stung as I pressed both palms over my mouth, stifling a sob.
That bag… this bag… it isn't mine.
It's his.
Sank Yvestine's.