Chapter 5:" Unknown Feeling"

PAIGE’S POV 

 As we stepped out of the club, the cold night air wrapped around my skin like a silent warning. Yet oddly, instead of fear, a strange calm settled over me. In front of me walked a man I didn’t even know—his back firm, his steps confident—and still, I followed.

I should’ve been scared. I know what danger feels like. But for some inexplicable reason, tonight didn’t feel like danger. It felt like home.

We were nearing his car when he suddenly stopped. I froze in place as he turned to face me, his expression unreadable beneath the dim glow of the streetlight.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice low and cold, like the wind that whispered through the trees.

There was something hauntingly beautiful about him. His long black coat made him look even taller, more intimidating, but it was his eyes that unsettled me most—ice-blue, hollow, as if carrying the weight of a thousand quiet tragedies.

I didn’t know what to say. So I just nodded.

He opened the car door for me, and as I stepped inside, his scent enveloped me—clean, dark, divine. I breathed it in like it was the only thing anchoring me to this world.

“There’s a restaurant not far from here,” he said quietly as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” I whispered, barely audible. “Thank you for saving me tonight.”

He didn’t respond. His face remained stoic, eyes fixed on the road, hands steady on the wheel.

I didn’t mind the silence. It was the kind that made me feel safe, wrapped in something invisible yet warm. My eyes grew heavy. And for the first time in a long time… I let myself drift off. Safe. Just safe.

CULLEN’S POV

 I don’t know how to approach the lady behind me, but somehow, I need to say something. Anything. Why, Cullen? Why did you put yourself in this unpleasant situation?

I clenched my fists discreetly, searching for words. My mouth went dry.

“Are you… hungry?” I asked finally, my voice lower than I expected.

She looked startled. Slowly, she lifted her head and for the first time, our eyes met.

Those eyes.

Something about them gripped me. I had seen countless faces, thousands of souls... but hers? There was a familiarity I couldn’t place, like a forgotten dream trying to claw its way back into memory. She blinked, unsure of what to say. I glanced away, suddenly aware of the strange sensation rising in my chest.

She looked human enough—just a girl. But beautiful. Ethereal, even. Fair skin like porcelain under the city lights. Her long black hair framed her delicate features, and the silk blue dress she wore hinted at grace and poise. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine, not walking behind a stranger in the middle of the night.

Maybe she’s half Asian, I thought. But why do I care?

We got in the car, silence wrapping around us like fog. I could hear her soft breathing as I started the engine. My fingers gripped the wheel tighter than they should.

“Thank you,” she said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

It caught me off guard. My response stuck in my throat. I kept my eyes ahead, trying to mask whatever this feeling was brewing in my gut. Why was my cold blood rushing like this? I’ve lived for centuries with an unshakable calm… but now?

Cullen, what the hell is wrong with you?

The silence returned, but this time, it felt heavier. When I glanced sideways again, she had already fallen asleep. Her head tilted gently against the window, her expression peaceful. Vulnerable.

Does this woman trust me that much?

The question hit me harder than expected.

Moments passed—or maybe longer. I was too lost in thought to notice. I could only stare, studying the rise and fall of her chest. Her lips slightly parted, her brows soft. Who was she? And what was she doing alone tonight, bleeding and terrified, on the verge of death?

Why do I feel like I’ve seen her before?

Before I could sink further into the questions swirling in my mind, her eyes fluttered open.

“I’m so sorry… I fell asleep,” she said, voice tinted with guilt.

I quickly looked away, composing myself. “It’s fine. We’re here now. You need to eat.”

“I don’t have any money,” she murmured, eyes cast down.

“It’s not a problem,” I replied firmly.

Before she could say more, I stepped out and opened her door. She hesitated, then got out.

We walked into the restaurant. People glanced at us, whispers floating around like dust in sunlight. I could hear them, feel them, but I didn’t care.

“Welcome, Sir, Ma’am,” a waiter greeted with a polite nod.

“Table for two,” I said shortly.

He handed us menus and smiled. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

I passed the menu to her. “Order anything you want.”

She took it with a soft “Thank you.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she scanned the list.

“This one, please,” she said to the waiter, pointing politely. She gave him a faint smile—and my heart lurched. It wasn’t just a smile. It was something else. Something unspoken.

“Anything else, Ma’am?” the waiter asked.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“And for you, Sir?”

“Rare medium steak. That’s all,” I said without looking at him.

As we waited, silence took hold again. But this time, it didn’t feel uncomfortable—it felt loaded. I was thinking, calculating. I couldn’t bring her home. That wasn’t even an option. Maybe I could book her a hotel. Just for tonight.

“Do you have any relatives here?” I asked.

She seemed surprised that I spoke.

“No,” she said quickly. Her eyes dimmed with sorrow.

“But don’t worry about me. I can manage. You don’t have to stay. I’ve already troubled you enough.”

Trouble? That wasn’t the word. Confusion, maybe. A haunting familiarity. But not trouble.

“What’s your plan?” I asked again, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“I have a friend here… I’ll try to contact her,” she replied.

“No plans to go home?”

“Not yet. Not now.”

“You almost got killed tonight. And you still don’t want to go home?” I blurted out.

She lowered her gaze. “I’m used to it. I’ve been living in hell my whole life.”

Her voice cracked, and I saw it—tears threatening to spill.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived with our food.

“Enjoy your meal, Ma’am and Sir,” he said cheerfully.

She dug into her food without hesitation. Starved. But then… tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered through a mouthful. “I’ll repay you one day.”

I didn’t say anything. What could I say?

After dinner, I made up my mind.

“I can book you a hotel. Two nights. What you do after that… is up to you.”

Her lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

I drove her to a nearby hotel and made sure everything was settled. Before leaving, I checked the room, ensuring it was safe. Clean. Warm.

“Here,” I said, handing her some money.

Her eyes widened. “No. That’s too much.”

“You’ll need it,” I insisted.

She hesitated. Then slowly accepted it.

“I’m going now,” I said, walking toward the door. “Please… live a good life.”

She looked at me for a long moment. “Thank you. For everything.”

She stepped closer. And before I could react—she wrapped her arms around me.

A hug.

A simple human gesture… but it hit me like a train.

Warmth.

Softness.

A pulse of something I couldn’t define surged through me. I froze. Time froze. Everything stilled. I hadn’t been touched like that in a hundred years. Maybe more.

When she pulled away, I could still feel her warmth lingering on my coat.

“Good night,” she whispered.

And for the first time in a long time, I walked away not as a Reaper—but as a man unsure of what he had just begun to feel.

PAIGE’S POV

I couldn’t stop myself. My feet moved before my thoughts could catch up. I ran after him, chest rising with a panic I didn’t expect. My fingers trembled as they reached for the edge of his coat.

I wish… I wish I could tell him to take me with him.

But that’s too much.

Who am I to ask such a thing from a man who already gave me more than I deserved?

I barely even know his name.

I pressed my arms around him in a quiet hug, the only language I could offer in that moment. A thank you. A silent plea. A desperate attempt to make sure he knows I am grateful. Even if I couldn't say it properly. Even if the truth was tangled deep in my chest like a knot that refused to loosen.

I lingered in the warmth of that embrace for just a second longer than I should have. When I finally pulled away, I forced a soft smile, and then... he was gone.

Gone.

The room felt different now. Like a hollow shell. The door clicked shut and the silence crept in immediately, swallowing everything that was left.

I stood there in the middle of the hotel room, frozen. Then my knees gave out, and I slowly sank onto the edge of the bed.

I let out a shaky breath.

It’s just me now.

Again.

I had told him I had a friend here. That I’d reach out. That I could take care of myself.

I lied.

There’s no one. Not in this city. Not in this country. No friend. No family. No familiar face waiting around the corner. Just me. Just this suitcase of memories and a life I desperately want to leave behind.

I don’t even know his name.

I buried my face in my hands. My palms felt cold, but my eyes were burning. He was kind. Too kind for someone like me. He didn’t have to help. Didn’t have to say anything. And yet he gave me food, comfort… safety.

For a moment, it almost felt like I mattered.

And now he’s gone. Back to whatever life he came from—probably one I could never imagine fitting into. Still, there was something in his eyes when he looked at me. A flicker of something… unspoken. Maybe even pain.

I looked around the small hotel room. A single bed. Clean sheets. A lamp humming quietly in the corner. The window was half open, letting in the distant sounds of the city that never truly slept.

I checked the time.

1:08 AM.

God, I was exhausted.

But I couldn’t sleep yet. My thoughts were racing too fast, too wild. I needed to figure things out. I had two nights here. That’s what he said. Two nights to decide where I’ll go… what I’ll do… how to survive.

I leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

I can’t go home.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

People don’t understand what it’s like to live in fear even when you're surrounded by people who claim to love you. To be told you’re the problem, the burden, the mistake. I’d rather be lost in a city of strangers than be chained again to that version of life.

I’d rather sleep on the sidewalk with nothing than return to a place where I’m treated like nothing.

Still, it was terrifying. I don’t know how to start. I don’t even know where to go tomorrow. But I’ll figure it out. I have to.

Maybe I can find a café or a small store hiring. Maybe someone needs help cleaning or doing deliveries. I’m not above any job. I just need something—anything—to buy me time. To build a wall between my past and the life I’m trying to imagine now.

I reached into the small envelope he gave me. Inside was more money than I had ever held in my hands at once. It scared me. It humbled me. It made my throat tighten all over again.

I don’t know why he helped me.

But I’ll never forget that he did.

I stood up, walked to the mirror across the room, and stared at my reflection.

My eyes were swollen from crying. My dress wrinkled from the chaos earlier. My hair tangled and my body aching. But somehow… I was still here.

Still breathing.

Still fighting.

“You’re okay,” I whispered to my reflection. “You’re still here.”

I turned off the lamp and crawled into bed, letting the cold sheets wrap around my body. The pillow smelled like detergent and comfort. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I had this morning.

And it was enough for tonight.

My last thought before sleep began to pull me under wasn’t of fear or worry.

It was of him.

His calm voice. That strange storm in his eyes. The way he opened the door for me without hesitation. The way he didn’t judge me, even when I felt like nothing but a ghost drifting through the night.

I hope… I hope he’s safe.

And maybe someday, if fate allows, I’ll see him again.

So I can thank him properly.

Or maybe just… stay.

But for now, tomorrow is waiting.

And I’ll face it.

Alone.

But alive.