That evening, Anya went to the supermarket alone.
The streets were busy with the after-work rush, lights from storefronts reflecting off the pavement as people moved in and out with baskets and bags. She walked the aisles slowly, picking up simple groceries without much thought.
As she reached for a bottle of water, a familiar voice spoke beside her.
"Hello."
Anya froze for a brief second before turning.
Sebastian Fang stood a short distance away, dressed neatly, his expression relaxed and friendly, as if they were old acquaintances rather than near strangers.
"Do you remember me?" he asked with a smile that was warm enough to feel rehearsed.
"Yes," Anya replied after a moment. "You helped me before."
"That's right," Sebastian said, seeming pleased. "I was worried you wouldn't."
She nodded politely, unsure what else to say. The memory of that night surfaced uncomfortably, along with the vague unease she had never quite shaken afterward.
"What a coincidence," Sebastian continued casually. "Running into you here. Do you live nearby?"
"I do," Anya answered, her tone careful now.
"That's good," he said. "This area's convenient. I'm just passing by myself." He gestured lightly with his hand. "If you'd like, I can give you a ride later."
"No need," Anya said quickly. "It's close. I usually walk."
Sebastian didn't seem offended. If anything, his smile widened slightly. "Fair enough."
They stood there for a moment, the hum of the store filling the space between them. Anya shifted her basket in her arms, hoping the conversation would end naturally.
Instead, he spoke again.
"Then can we exchange contact information?" he asked, tone easy, almost teasing.
She hesitated.
Something about the way he watched her made her uneasy, though she couldn't quite place why. Her instinct told her to refuse. To keep her distance.
Sebastian tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "I did save you once," he said lightly. "Not even a small thank-you?"
Anya pressed her lips together.
She didn't want to seem ungrateful. Didn't want to appear rude. And maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe this was just a harmless gesture, nothing more.
"…Alright," she said at last.
She took out her phone and exchanged contact details with him, her fingers moving slower than usual. When she looked up again, Sebastian was still smiling.
"Glad we'll be in touch," he said.
Anya forced a small smile in return.
As she walked away toward the checkout, groceries heavier in her arms than before, she couldn't shake the faint sense that something had shifted.
She told herself it was nothing.
She paid, stepped back out into the night air, and walked home alone.
*****
That night, after a long shower and a quiet dinner eaten alone, Anya stood in the middle of her apartment surrounded by half-open suitcases.
The room looked unfamiliar already.
Clothes lay folded on the bed. Books were stacked neatly by the door. She moved slowly, mechanically, as if packing could dull the ache tightening in her chest. Each item she placed into the suitcase felt like another small goodbye.
Just as she reached for a sweater, the doorbell rang.
The sound was sharp in the quiet apartment.
Anya startled, her heart leaping into her throat. She wasn't expecting anyone. For a brief moment, she considered pretending she hadn't heard it. But the bell rang again, firmer this time.
She took a breath and walked to the door.
When she opened it, she froze.
Alaric stood there.
His coat was still on, his expression dark and tightly controlled, as if he had come straight from somewhere else without stopping to think. His eyes locked onto hers the instant the door opened.
"Alaric?" she asked, stunned. "Why are you here? Aren't you busy?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward, crossed the threshold, and pulled her into his arms with sudden force. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Anya gasped, then relaxed instinctively, her hands lifting to his back. She could feel the tension in him, the barely contained storm beneath his calm exterior.
"Alaric," she asked softly, patting his back, trying to soothe him. "What happened?"
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still gripping her arms.
"Why are you leaving?" he demanded.
Her chest tightened.
"You saw the email," she said quietly.
"I don't understand," he said, his voice low and strained. "Didn't we just reconcile?"
She looked away, gathering her resolve before meeting his gaze again.
"Alaric," she said slowly, carefully, "I came back because I didn't want to miss what I thought were your last days. Being able to make peace with you… that was enough for me."
Her voice trembled despite her effort to keep it steady.
"Now that I know you're fine, that you're not in danger, I don't have a reason to stay anymore."
She forced herself to continue.
"You have your responsibilities. Your life is here. Riverside isn't far. When you're free, you can come visit."
Each word felt like it was cutting her open from the inside.
Alaric stared at her, disbelief giving way to something raw and pained.
"I need you," he said, the words breaking from him. "You can't leave."
"You have Leo," Anya replied softly. "He handles everything. And you don't really need an assistant."
She hesitated, then added, her voice barely above a whisper, "Anyway, Miss Clara called the company many times today looking for you. I think… you should go see her."
His expression hardened instantly.
"Are you jealous?" he asked sharply.
Her face flushed, heat rushing to her cheeks.
"I don't think I'm qualified to be jealous," she said quietly, lowering her eyes.
Without warning, Alaric lifted her face with both hands, forcing her to look at him.
"Anya," he said firmly, "will you be my girlfriend?"
Her breath caught.
She blinked at him. "How many girlfriends do you have?"
"I have none."
"You're lying."
"They're not my girlfriends."
"Then you're playing with their feelings?"
"They know my stance," he said without hesitation. "I never lied."
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Anya searched his face for a long moment before speaking again.
"I won't deny that I feel something special for you," she said at last. "What you said just now moved me."
Her voice softened.
"But I can't accept it. I'm sorry."
His grip tightened slightly. "Why?"
"We're not suited for each other," she said, the words hurting her as much as him. "You're too exceptional. We live in different worlds. I'm just an ordinary person. I don't have the courage to stand beside you."
Alaric pulled her into his arms again, holding her tightly, as if afraid she would disappear if he loosened his grip.
"Don't leave yet," he said softly, his voice pressed into her hair. "Give me time. Give us a chance. We've already lost too many years."
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
She closed her eyes.
"…Alright," she whispered. "I'll stay a little longer."
The tension broke instantly.
Alaric laughed under his breath, relief flooding his expression. He lifted her off the ground in sudden joy, spinning her once before setting her down gently. Before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her lips lightly, a brief, careful touch filled with restrained emotion.
She froze, then laughed softly, embarrassed.
"I said I'd stay," she said shyly. "I didn't say I'd be your girlfriend."
"I know," he replied, eyes gleaming with amusement. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I won't be able to stop myself."
Her face turned even redder.
That was when Alaric finally noticed the suitcases.
They sat near the wall, half-open, clothes neatly folded inside. Books stacked beside them. Everything arranged with quiet finality.
His gaze flicked from the luggage back to Anya, his brow furrowing.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice lower now.
"I'm packing," she replied honestly, following his line of sight. "I was just waiting for you to approve my resignation."
"And since you're already packed," he continued, as if the decision had already been made in his mind, "you might as well move in with me."
"With you?" Anya exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Alaric, you can't be serious."
"I am," he said decisively. "You're leaving this place anyway. There's no point unpacking just to pack again."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to stay where I can see you. Where you won't disappear without a word again."
"You don't even give people time to refuse," she muttered.
Alaric allowed himself a faint smile. "I do. I just don't accept the answer I don't like."
She opened her mouth to protest again, then closed it.
Her gaze drifted to the suitcases. To the life she had been prepared to walk away from. To the man standing in front of her now, refusing to let her retreat into loneliness again.
"…You're impossible," she said quietly.
"And you're not saying no," he replied.
She sighed, defeated. "You're helping me move, then?"
"Yes," he said immediately. "Right now."
He reached for the nearest suitcase without waiting for permission.
Anya watched him, her heart caught somewhere between panic and something dangerously close to hope.