Just as I sigh in frustration, I feel someone near me. The air shifts, prickling my skin with awareness.
Slowly, I turned, then freeze.
He stands ten feet away, tall and effortlessly striking. His dark hair curls slightly... not too long, nor too short, just enough to add to his appeal. His features are sharp, perfectly carved, like something out of a dream. Deep, intense eyes that hold me captive. A pointed nose, full lips that look almost too perfect. He's in his late twenties, maybe.
Goosebumps rise along my arms. My lips part as a breath escapes me.
"It's him."
The guy I've always imagined. Every detail, every trait I've ever found attractive... he has it all.
I told myself I was done with love. That the last heartbreak was the last. That love is nothing but wasted time and emotions.
But looking at him, none of that seems to matter.
It's irrational. Maybe even ridiculous.
But for the first time in a long time, I feel something and can't look away.
---
I don't know how or where he came from. One moment, I'm standing in front of the supermarket, lost in thought. The next, he's there... walking toward me with quiet, effortless grace.
He holds an umbrella. A fancy one. though, it doesn't match his simple outfit, yet somehow, it suits him perfectly.
As he gets closer, a strange feeling stirs inside me. Like I've seen him before. I do not know where, when, or how... just an odd sense of familiarity that I can't shake.
My breath catches. He's… beautiful. Too beautiful. He's 6ft maybe.
I do not realize I'm staring until he stops in front of me. My eyes stay fixed on him, still caught in admiration.
And then, he speaks.
His voice—God.
Deep. Smooth. It cuts through the air like a song meant only for me, slipping through my chest and settling in my bones. A shiver runs through me.
Aww, damn!
---
"Hey, do you need help?"
His deep, smooth voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I blink up at him, still caught off guard. He's even more striking up close.. dark curls, sharp features, those deep, unreadable eyes.
Then I notice he's gesturing toward the bags in my hands.
"Oh," I say quickly, gripping them tighter. "I'm fine."
He doesn't move. Just watches me with quiet patience.
"Are you here to shop?" I ask, trying to shift the focus.
A faint smile tugs at his lips. "I can do that next time. Right now, I presume you need help."
Before I can react, he adds, "And your research work… shouldn't you be focusing on that?"
I freeze. My research....
I was just thinking about it. How I need to get home, unpack, cook... because I'm starving.. and then start my assignment. It's due tomorrow, and my professor is strict. I can't afford to mess this up.
But how does he know?
I stare at him, my brows pulling together.
"How did you..."
Before I can finish, he suddenly places the umbrella in my hand. I barely register the weight of it before he takes a few of my bags, moving so smoothly I do not even have time to protest.
Then, without another word, he steps into the rain, then walks straight to a sleek black car, pops the trunk, and sets my things inside.
I just stand there, stunned, gripping the umbrella he made me hold.
Then, just as quickly, he jogs back to me, rain dripping from his hair, like it's nothing.
---
"What are you doing? Let's go," he says, taking the rest of my things before I can protest.
I want to refuse, but standing in the rain, waiting for it to stop, isn't exactly appealing. A ride would be easier. Still, why is he being so unexpectedly nice when we've only just met?
Reluctantly, I let go. He carries my things to his car, tucking them neatly into the trunk. Then, standing there in the rain, he gestures for me to follow.
I hesitate. I have questions for this man. But they can wait until we're inside.
"Here," he says, opening the passenger door for me.
I murmur a quick thanks and slip into the car.
---
Still curious about this mysterious man. Just as I open my mouth to ask, he beats me to it.
"Lucian Duvall," he says, introducing himself. His voice is smooth, steady... too familiar up close.
I give my name in return.
"Lilian Vale." I hesitate, then ask,
"How did you know to come find me?"
His response is curt.
"I like your energy." Then, just as quickly, he shifts the conversation.
"Where are we heading?"
He doesn't seem like the type to give straight answers. I decide not to push, pretending not to care.
"My apartment. It's nearby."
He nods, but then... moves closer. My breath catches and my pulse kicks up, erratic.
For a second, I think... No, I don't know anything for sure. Something's about to happen. But all he does is reach for my seatbelt, fastening it for me. His fingers brush against my arm, brief but enough to send a shiver up my spine.
Then, he speaks. "It's too loud. I can't concentrate."
I blink. "What's too loud?"
He turns to me, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Your heart."
I freeze.
Then he smiles, slow and knowing, like he can hear the exact thought running through my head.
Who is this man?
The air in the car suddenly feels heavier. And for the first time, I wonder if getting into this car was a mistake.
---
We arrived at my apartment sooner than I expected. Nothing happened. It was safe. I kept quiet the entire ride, my mind were tangled with thoughts though.
As we step out of the car, he retrieves my belongings from the trunk. Then, glancing up at the building, he asks,
"So, this is where you live?"
I hesitate. "Yeah…" My voice comes out uncertain, like I'm second-guessing my own answer.
Before I can process what's happening, he starts walking ahead, toward my apartment. He does things without waiting for my permission.
We take the stairs, silence stretching between us. My heart pounds when we reach my door. I remember the mess I left behind before going out.
Then, his hand moves to the doorknob. He's about to open it.
"Wait!" I blurt out, stepping between him and the door. My mind scrambles for an excuse. "I... I can handle things from here. Really. I appreciate everything you've done."
I try my best to dismiss him, but he doesn't budge. "How can you just send your helper away?" He tilts his head slightly. "Besides, it's still raining."
I open my mouth to argue, but his next words stop me cold.
"I'm really thirsty."
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach twist. My conscience pricks at me, telling me I'd be cruel to turn him away now.
Forcing a calm tone, I say,
"Just… wait here for a few minutes."
Then, before he can protest, I slip inside and shut the door behind me. My heart pounds as I rush to clean up the mess.
---
I hastily shove clutter into closets and under the bed, making the apartment presentable. Once I was satisfied, I open the door and invite him inside.
"Please, have a seat," I say, gesturing to the couch. He sits gracefully, his eyes following me as I head to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I find it nearly empty except for a few bottles of water. Grateful for at least that, I grab one and a clean glass. Returning, I hand them to him.
"Thank you," he murmurs, pouring the water into the glass with an elegance that seems out of place in my modest living room.
I stand awkwardly, waiting as he sips the water. The silence stretches, and I can't help but hope he'll leave soon, because I need to start cooking dinner.
As if reading my thoughts, he looks up. "Are you waiting for me to leave?"
Caught off guard, I stammer, "You mentioned you were thirsty. Are you feeling better now?"
He offers a slight smile. "I am, but my clothes are still damp. Would you mind if I stayed until they dry? Please, don't let me keep you from your tasks."
Reluctantly, I nod and turn to the bags of groceries, beginning to unpack them. As I sort through the items, I notice his clothes have dried considerably.
Just as I'm about to suggest he might be ready to leave, he speaks up. "I must admit, I'm quite hungry. I haven't eaten since this morning. Perhaps I could impose upon you for a meal? I promise to leave afterward."
I hesitate, but the thought of sharing a simple meal like jollof rice seems harmless enough. "Alright," I agree. "It'll be ready soon."
---
While I wait for my food to finish cooking, I grab my laptop. There's nothing else to do, so I settle in and start on my assignment. I begin my research, but nothing comes up online. I search and search, yet I find no trace of the material I need.
A nagging worry creeps in. My professor is strict... a single misstep, and I'm facing an F. He assigned this topic on "bringing back to life," something that's been forgotten for centuries. Could it be that he knew it wasn't available online all along? I scratch the back of my head in confusion.
Before I can dwell on it further, he leaves his seat and walks over.
"Do you need help with this?" he asks quietly.
I dismiss his offer, telling him I can manage on my own. He simply nods and returns to his spot, his fingers tapping on his phone.
I glance back at the screen, frustration mounting in. My professor's words echo in my mind as I wonder what to do now. Then our eyes meet, and he steps closer again.
"Are you sure you don't need my help?" he asks, his tone laced with concern.
The uncertainty of the assignment hangs in the air, and teetering between pride and desperation
---
Then, just as I'm about to speak, the power suddenly cuts out... plunging the room into inky darkness. The steady hum of the refrigerator dies with it, and the only light is the faint glow of his phone.
In that half-light, time seems to slow. Without warning, a violent tremor shudders through the ceiling. I watch in frozen horror as the fixture shatters, sending a jagged shard hurtling straight toward me.
In an instant, he leaps forward, his back slamming between me and the falling debris. I feel the impact as the shard crashes harmlessly onto his broad shoulders, shielding me from harm. I freeze, my heart pounding, as I cling to the brief, desperate safety his presence provides.
And the mysteries of the night leave me breathless.
He saved me.
Just like in the movies. Just like in my fantasies.
But this isn't a script. There's no director calling "cut," no music swelling in the background. This is real... too real. My pulse is still a frantic mess, my skin still humming. I should be terrified. Maybe I am. But beneath the fear, beneath the shock, something deeper stirs.
A part of me I thought had long since withered… comes alive.
***