The night their parents died...
It rained.
Not the soft kind of rain that comforts you to sleep—but the kind that drowned everything. Sirens. Voices. Breathing.
Kim Monami Anxin still remembered the flashing red lights reflecting on the wet road, the twisted metal of what used to be two cars, and the way her small fingers trembled as they clutched his.
She was nine.
Wang Hedi was ten.
Too young to understand death.
Old enough to feel it.
"Don't look," he had told her back then, his voice shaking even though he tried to sound strong.
But she had already seen.
And somehow... he knew.
So instead of covering her eyes—
He just held her hand tighter.
Hedi didn't cry that night.
Not when the doctors shook their heads.
Not when the white sheets covered the bodies.
Not even when the rain soaked through his clothes and turned everything cold.
He only looked at her.
Because she was crying enough for both of them.
From that night on... they became everything to each other.
Not by choice.
By survival.
Their houses were ten minutes apart.
A small distance. An insignificant one.
But for them—it became a lifeline.
Close enough for Anxin to run to his house in the middle of the night whenever the nightmares came back.
Close enough for Hedi to show up at her doorstep without warning, just to make sure she was still there.
Far enough for the world to pretend they lived separate lives.
They didn't.
They never did.
Years passed.
People changed.
But some things stayed exactly the same.
Anxin still left her window slightly open at night—just in case.
And Hedi still checked it... even now.
2:17 AM.
The door opened quietly.
Anxin didn't need to look up to know it was him.
She had memorized the sound of his footsteps long ago.
Slow. Controlled. Heavy—but never careless.
Different from everyone else.
Different from the boy she used to know.
The first thing she noticed...
Was the blood.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
There he stood—framed by the dim city lights behind him. His black shirt clung to his body, dark stains spreading across the fabric. His hair was messy, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.
Dangerous.
Untouchable.
Everything the world feared.
And yet—
To her, he was still just Hedi.
"Wang Hedi."
Her voice cut through the silence.
Calm. Steady.
Too steady.
He paused.
For a brief second—just a fraction of time—the coldness in his eyes flickered.
And there he was.
The boy from the rain.
Then it disappeared.
"It's not mine," he said.
It never was.
Anxin exhaled quietly and stood up from the couch, her cardigan slipping slightly as she walked toward him.
"You're late," she said, ignoring his words.
Hedi ran a hand through his hair, looking away.
"You should be asleep."
"And you should stop getting injured."
A pause.
Then—barely noticeable—his lips curved.
"You say that every time."
"And you ignore it every time."
She stopped in front of him now, close enough to see the faint tension in his shoulders. Close enough to smell the metallic scent mixed with his cologne.
Her fingers wrapped around his wrist.
Firm.
Unwavering.
"Sit."
No hesitation.
No resistance.
The most feared man in the city... obeyed.
He sat down on the couch, watching her move as she walked toward the bathroom. There was something grounding about it—the way she didn't panic, didn't question, didn't fear.
She never did.
And maybe that scared him more than anything.
Anxin returned with the first-aid kit, kneeling in front of him without a word.
"Shirt."
He didn't move.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
Sharp. Patient.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
A breath passed between them.
Then he sighed quietly and unbuttoned his shirt.
The fabric slipped open, revealing bruises, cuts—and a fresh wound along his ribs.
Anxin's expression didn't change.
But her hands slowed.
Just slightly.
"Idiot," she murmured.
"You always call me that."
"Because you always earn it."
She reached for the antiseptic, cleaning the wound carefully. The room fell into silence again, filled only with the soft sounds of her movements and his steady breathing.
"You promised me," she said after a moment.
Hedi's gaze shifted to her face.
"I've made a lot of promises."
"This one mattered."
Her voice was softer now.
Quieter.
"You promised you'd come back alive."
Something in him broke at that.
Not visibly.
Not completely.
But enough.
"For you," he said, his voice lower now, almost raw, "I always do."
Her fingers paused.
Just for a second.
Then continued.
"You're getting worse," she whispered.
"I'm handling it."
"No," she said, looking up at him now, her blue eyes steady and unafraid. "You're losing control."
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Honest.
Dangerous.
Hedi leaned back slightly, studying her like he was trying to memorize every detail.
"You knew what I was," he said.
"I still do."
"Then don't try to change me."
Her grip on the bandage tightened.
"I'm not trying to change you."
"Then what?"
Her eyes didn't waver.
"I'm trying to keep you."
That landed deeper than anything else.
Because that was the truth he avoided.
Not the blood.
Not the violence.
Her.
Losing her.
Hedi reached out slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle—too gentle for someone like him.
"You're the only thing I have left," he said quietly.
"And you're the only thing I'm afraid of losing," she replied.
Their gazes locked.
No distance.
No lies.
Just years of unspoken feelings sitting between them.
Then—
A phone rang.
Sharp. Sudden. Unforgiving.
The moment shattered instantly.
Hedi's expression hardened as he pulled his hand back, grabbing his phone from the table. One glance at the screen—and the softness disappeared.
Completely.
"I have to go."
Anxin stood up immediately.
"You just got here."
"I know."
"You're injured."
"I'll survive."
Frustration flickered across her face now.
"And what if one day you don't?"
He didn't answer.
He just walked toward the door.
"Hedi."
He stopped.
Her voice was quieter this time.
But heavier.
"If you keep walking away like this... one day I might not be here when you come back."
A long pause.
Then he spoke—
Not turning around.
"You will be."
Not arrogance.
Not assumption.
Certainty.
And that hurt the most.
The door closed behind him.
Silence filled the room again.
Anxin stood there, staring at the empty space he left behind.
At the blood on the couch.
At the life she had chosen long ago.
Her fingers clenched slightly.
Because for the first time—
She wasn't afraid of his world.
She was afraid of losing him to it.