Ariella couldn't figure out what made her remember that night. Was it Luna's quiet breathing, Killian's voice echoing in her flat, or the pain in her chest from long-buried grief?
No matter what it was, history rose like a wave.
And then she turned twenty-one again.
Four years ago
The university library was almost empty, and it was too late for most people to be there. Ariella sat hunched over a pile of medical books she couldn't afford, marking every other sentence while she tried to get the scholarship that kept her alive.
Her stomach growled.
She didn't pay attention to it.
This wasn't the first time.
A shadow fell on her table.
She tensed up, expecting a librarian to tell her they were closing or a student to ask for more space.
But it was him.
Killian Drake was tall, magnetic, and deadly in a charcoal coat that didn't look like it belonged on a college campus. Everyone at the school knew that he was untouchable. He was the one who would inherit the Drake empire. He was the kind of guy who prowled instead of walked. He didn't ask; he told.
No one knew why he sometimes went to the university library.
No one had the guts to ask.
Not Ariella. Who didn't even look up.
He told me, "You're in my usual seat."
Ariella pointed out another line. "There are fifty other seats."
"I like this one better."
"Then take a seat in one of the other forty-nine."
Be quiet.
A long one.
Then—
"This view is nice."
She finally looked up.
He wasn't looking out the window.
They were on her.
Her heart was beating in an irregular way. "I—this isn't—look, I really don't have time for—"
Killian said softly, "You're stressed."
"I'm busy."
"You're hungry."
She got stiff. "That's not your business."
He looked at the granola bar next to her books that hadn't been opened yet. A broken wrapper. Crumbs. It was all that was left of her meal.
He was sitting across from her.
"No," she said. "Move away, no, no, no. There are real tables; go scare someone else."
He stayed still.
He asked, "What is your name?"
"You don't need it."
"Maybe I do want it."
"Maybe I don't want to give it."
A break.
Then a small bend in his lips. "You're interesting."
"I'm studying."
"And I'm talking."
"I saw."
He leaned in a little and focused on what he was looking at. Not hungry. Not sexual. Interesting.
Like no one had ever talked to him like he was just somebody.
Like she was the first person who didn't flinch when he was around.
He asked, "What are you studying?"
"Something you wouldn't get."
"Give me a shot."
She let out a breath of annoyance. "Anatomy of the human body."
His eyes moved to the open book in front of her, which had diagrams of muscles and bones.
He mumbled, "I know anatomy."
She blinked. "Of course you do."
Killian's eyes met hers, and they were unreadable. "You're being sarcastic."
"I think that's pretty clear."
Another break in the stillness.
Not too heavy.
Not a threat.
Weirdly warm.
Then he got up. "Stay here."
"I am not a dog."
"I never said you were."
"You suggested it."
Killian rolled his eyes and left.
Ariella looked at him in shock.
She said, "Unbelievable."
He came back five minutes later.
With food.
Real food. A full takeout box from a restaurant she couldn't afford to miss.
He put it in front of her but didn't sit down.
"Eat," he said.
She got angry. "I don't take free stuff."
"This isn't a gift." He spoke in a softer voice. "It's... something else."
"What?"
"A distraction from anything that hurts you."
Her throat had shut.
Because he saw it happen.
He could see through everything she tried to hide with a smile.
She didn't say thank you.
But she ate it all.
He watched him quietly, calmly, and with an unexpected hint of kindness.
After she was done, he sat back down.
"Okay," he said, "start over." "What's your name?"
Ariella was unsure.
Then she said, "Ariella Ward" under her breath.
He repeated the name and savored its sound.
Like a promise that was growing on the outside of something they didn't know yet.
"Ariella."
Then he did something that surprised her.
He grinned.
He smiled just a little.
He smiled just the right amount.
And her life changed.
The Days After
Killian didn't show up every day.
Only on days when she cried in the bathroom.
Only on days when she couldn't pay for lunch.
She only studied until her vision got blurry one of those days.
Only when she looked like she was going to fall apart.
And he always knew.
He started putting coffee on her table before she got there.
He always sat across from her.
He looked at the financial records, and she looked at the anatomy.
He never cut in.
He never lost focus.
He was just there next to her.
He was always by her side, providing a quiet presence.
All the time.
A shadow that made her feel less alone.
Then, one night, just before finals, she broke down. All of her stress, fear, and exhaustion came out in hot tears that she tried to hide behind her hands.
Killian didn't say anything.
He just moved his chair next to hers, draped his coat over her shaking shoulders, and stayed still until she calmed down.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, ashamed.
"What for?" he asked softly.
"For crying."
"Everyone cries."
"Not people like you."
He stopped for a moment. "People like me cry the most."
She looked up in shock.
His eyes were impossible to read, almost scary.
Then he said something that was difficult to hear.
"I wish I had someone to cry with."
She stopped breathing.
Ariella did not touch him.
But she wishes she had the guts to do it.
The Night It Happened
It was late. It's after midnight. Weak lights illuminated the library's aisles.
Ariella yawned and rubbed her eyes, which were burning.
Killian looked at her and then put away his file.
He said, "You need to sleep."
"You need to have a personality."
He let out a quiet laugh. "Come on. I'll walk you home."
"No."
"Yes."
"Killian—"
"It's dark."
"I can handle it."
"I know you can." His voice got softer. "But I want to help."
Her heart turned.
He didn't even touch her with his hands. But there was something scary, fragile, and completely unavoidable in the air between them.
They walked quietly under the streetlights, and their breath was clear in the cold.
He asked, "When do you finish school?"
"Two years."
"You'll be great."
She smiled a little. "You don't know that."
He simply said, "I do." "I saw you fight for it."
Ariella stopped walking.
Killian did too.
His breath became foggy in the space between them.
His eyes slowly and deeply looked into hers, as if she were something special.
He muttered, "Ariella."
Her whole body got warm.
He didn't lean in to show that he was in charge.
It wasn't hunger.
It wasn't possession.
It was soft.
Tentative.
Hopeful.
Their lips touched—soft, shaking, and barely there.
A question.
A confession.
A start.
His voice got rough when he pulled back.
"I'll let you go if you walk away right now."
Her heart raced as she looked at him.
"But if you stay," he said softly, "I'm going to fall in love with you."
Ariella's breath shook.
She whispered, "You shouldn't." "You don't love girls like me, guys like you."
Killian moved closer, her eyes full of rage over something she couldn't name.
He said softly, "Ariella, I don't love anyone."
It hurt her chest.
"But I think," he said, his voice shaking. "I might love you."
She didn't leave.
After that, none of them had a chance.
BACK TO THE PRESENT.
Ariella woke up on the couch with her heart racing and her cheeks wet from old tears she didn't know she'd shed.
Killian's coat was still on the back of her chair.
His guards were still outside.
He stayed in her memories and walls.
She put her hands over her face.
Because loving him was the simplest thing she'd ever done.
The hardest part was getting through him.
And now he was back, tearing open every scar she had tried to heal.