Chapter 8:"Never be the same again"

PAIGE’S POV:

 My heart skipped a beat the moment he said I could stay. 

Not just that—we’re going shopping today. 

I assumed groceries… but then again, with him, everything feels unpredictable.

I glanced at the suitcase I’d haphazardly packed, now lying open at the foot of the bed like a box of forgotten dreams. My breath caught. 

Nothing in there screamed winter. In fact, nothing screamed ready at all. I only had five pairs of clothes, most of which were for warmer weather. My sandals? One strap broke yesterday. I’d been making do with thin slippers ever since.

I stood still, staring at my limited choices. 

I guess this is it. No time for shame. 

I slipped into my worn denim jeans and a gray long-sleeved top, the fabric stretched and faded from too many washes. I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed. The sleeves were too short. My hair was unbrushed. I didn’t just feel unprepared—I looked it.

Still, I had no choice but to own what I had. I tugged the sleeves down as far as they’d go, slid on my slippers, and hurried down the stairs.

The creak of every step reminded me I was in someone else’s home. A two-story place, cozy yet unfamiliar. The scent of brewed coffee and pine wood lingered in the air, grounding me for a second. Maybe he was already waiting.

And he was.

He sat in the living room, legs crossed, calm as snow. He wore a black coat, plain black pants, and a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. It matched his mood: sharp, minimal, and unreadable.

Everything about him felt muted—except his presence. 

Pale skin like porcelain, a long sculpted nose, and striking blue eyes that almost glowed under the low morning light. He looked like he belonged in a different world entirely.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice deep and cold, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

“Oh—yeah. Sorry for making you wait,” I replied quickly, catching my breath.

Without a word, he stood and handed me something. 

A thick black winter jacket. It looked expensive. Heavy. Warm.

“Wear this. It’s cold outside.”

I stared at it for a second longer than I should have before whispering, “Thank you.” 

His kindness was quiet, like a secret he didn’t want anyone to know.

The two-hour drive was almost completely silent, save for the soft hum of the car engine and the occasional gust of wind brushing against the windows. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. But I kept stealing glances at him.

Every movement of his—how he shifted the gear, how he blinked slowly—felt deliberate. Controlled. 

Mysterious.

Then, we arrived.

The shopping mall was made of shimmering glass, reflecting the gray sky like it held a world inside it. It looked magical. For the first time since I got here, I actually allowed myself to enjoy something. 

The view. The moment.

He stepped out of the car and, to my surprise, walked around to open my door. The simple gesture sent my pulse racing. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. 

His silence spoke louder than words.

I followed him as he strode inside the mall. I assumed we’d head straight to the grocery store—but instead, we veered into the women’s clothing section. My brows furrowed in confusion.

He walked over to a saleslady and leaned in to whisper something. She nodded and smiled politely before turning to me.

“This way, Miss,” she said gently, motioning for me to follow.

I blinked, completely stunned. 

Wait… what?

I turned to look at him, uncertain. And then it hit me—I don’t even know his name. 

How foolish. How typical of me to forget the most basic thing.

“Uhm…” I mumbled awkwardly, stepping closer to him, my voice lowering into a whisper. “The lady might ask… you know, for my name. I forgot to ask yours.”

He looked at me briefly, unreadable as ever, and said, “Cullen.”

“Paige,” I replied shyly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting second. “Nice to meet you… officially.”

What a weird time to exchange names—standing in the middle of a high-end clothing store, him dressed like a movie character, and me in slippers and a borrowed coat.

I gave him a small, nervous smile, then quickly turned and followed the saleslady.

Truth was, I needed a breather. A moment to make sense of everything. 

But most of all, I needed to catch my breath before this man stole it completely.

CULLEN’S POV

 I stood at the bottom of the stairs, wondering what was taking her so long.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who seemed obsessed with appearances, and yet… she’d been up there for a while. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look like I cared too much.

Then I noticed something—the door to my room where she was sleeping, slightly ajar. 

A sliver of space. A thread of curiosity tugged at me.

Just check, my mind whispered. Make sure she’s okay.

I started toward it, slow and silent. 

Halfway there, another voice in my head interrupted—What the hell are you doing? Creeping toward her room? Are you insane, Cullen? 

But my feet moved anyway. A quiet war raged inside me, logic versus instinct.

I stopped at the threshold and peeked in.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at her suitcase. Her shoulders were slumped, and something about the way she looked at her belongings—with a kind of tired acceptance—knocked the air out of my lungs.

She picked up a pair of broken sandals and sighed. Her fingers touched the cracked strap as if she was trying to piece it together. But she didn’t cry. She didn’t even frown. Just… stared.

And for a reason I couldn’t explain, my chest tightened.

An ache bloomed in the middle of me, sharp and foreign. 

Why does this hurt? 

I barely know her. And yet something inside me whispered: She deserves more. Much more.

I backed away quietly, before she could notice me.

I walked to my office and opened the cabinet. Inside was an unused winter jacket—thick, black, and warm. I had bought it on a whim last season but never wore it. 

I held it for a moment, my fingers gripping the collar. It smelled like cedarwood. 

She needs this, I told myself. 

No, she deserves this.

Driving felt different today.

I couldn’t stop imagining her face lighting up when she walked into a real store again. I wanted to see it—not for my ego, not for show—but because I owed her something I couldn’t put into words.

Like I was supposed to help her. Somehow.

When we finally pulled up to the glass-covered shopping mall, I glanced at her as she stepped out. Her eyes widened. Her mouth parted slightly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

She looked... happy.

Not the kind of loud, expressive joy most people show. Hers was quiet. Innocent. Like a kid seeing snow for the first time.

Without wasting time, I headed straight to the women’s clothing section and found a sales associate—a woman with a kind face and a clipboard in hand.

“Can you assist my lady?” I asked, voice steady.

She blinked, surprised, but nodded.

“Anything she wants,” I added. “If she’s unsure, suggest something for her. From head to toe. No budget limit. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the woman smiled, catching the seriousness in my tone.

I stepped back as she approached Paige, but then—

She walked toward me.

My pulse stuttered.

She leaned in, and in the softest voice, she whispered, “I forgot to ask your name. The lady might need it.”

Her breath brushed the side of my cheek. 

So close. 

Too close.

Why ask me that now? In the middle of a shopping mall? But before I could overthink it, I found myself answering.

“Cullen.”

She gave a tiny, shy smile. “Paige,” she replied. Like I didn’t already know.

The moment lasted maybe three seconds—but it burned into my bones like ice and fire all at once.

When she walked away with the saleslady, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in minutes. My hands were cold. My throat tight.

What the hell is happening to me?

I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced at the rows of shops around me.

She needs a phone, I thought. A proper one. 

I wasn’t sure why the idea came, but it felt right.

Something told me this woman wasn’t used to being taken care of.

But today—today, that was going to change.

Two hours later, she came walking back—arms full of paper bags, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes glimmering with a quiet joy she was trying too hard to hide. 

Her steps were light, almost unsure, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be this happy.

She caught me watching, and her smile faltered for a second—just a flicker of self-consciousness. 

Maybe she thought she was a burden. 

But she couldn’t be more wrong.

Her presence had brought a strange warmth into the cold corners of my world. 

A kind of sunshine I never realized I needed.

“Sir, we’re all good,” the saleslady said as she approached, handing me back my card with a smile of duty and understanding.

I nodded, managing the smallest curl of my lips in return. It wasn’t much—but it was all I had to give. Respect. Gratitude. Something deeper I didn’t dare name.

I turned to Paige. She stood there quietly, holding onto the bags with both hands, her expression unreadable—until her eyes met mine.

“Happy?” I blurted out, the word stumbling awkwardly out of my mouth before I could stop it.

What the hell, Cullen. 

I cringed internally, cursing myself for sounding like a middle school boy on his first date.

But then she smiled. 

That kind of smile that could melt snow in midair.

“Very,” she whispered—and then, without warning, she hugged me.

Just like that.

Her arms wrapped around me gently, her cheek brushing against my chest, and for a moment… I didn’t breathe. 

Because if I did, I might’ve shattered.

She keeps doing that—pulling me into her light. 

And the more she does, the more I fear it.

This… smells like danger.

I gently pulled away, breaking the silence. “Let’s take the bags to the car first. Then we’ll head to the grocery store.”

She nodded, still glowing.

I took the bags from her without asking. She didn’t resist. 

The way she let me carry them felt like trust.

After loading everything into the trunk, we walked back into the mall, now side by side. She moved with ease now, like she belonged beside me. Like she was settling into this strange new chapter neither of us had planned.

“Get everything you want,” I told her as we entered the supermarket.

“I don’t know what you like,” I added truthfully. “I don’t usually stock groceries… honestly, I’ve got no clue.”

“No worries,” she said with a playful smile, already reaching for a cart. “Let me handle this for you.”

And so I did.

I became the silent cart-pusher while she moved through the aisles, plucking out ingredients with confidence and humming quietly to herself. 

She looked… alive. Like this was her element. 

Like building a home out of nothing was something she’d done before.

Then—suddenly—everything shifted.

A sharp pain stabbed behind my eyes. My vision blurred. A rush of fragmented memories flickered in front of me—images I couldn’t control. 

A woman. 

A voice. 

Laughter. 

Then blood. 

Gone.

I stumbled, clutching the cart.

“Cullen?” Her voice cut through the noise like a rope. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

I tried to shake it off, breathing hard.

“Nothing,” I lied. “It’s nothing.”

But she didn’t buy it.

She cupped my face with both hands, gently forcing me to look at her. Her palms were soft. Her eyes full of worry.

“Are you sure?” she asked again, barely above a whisper.

I nodded, even though everything inside me was spiraling.

Her touch—so human, so tender—was the only thing anchoring me to the present.

“I’ll get you some water,” she said, already turning to run.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Really. I promise.”

She paused, clearly torn. Her gaze searched mine, as if trying to read a truth I was hiding too well.

“I don’t like seeing you like that,” she murmured.

And that—that—hit harder than the headache.

“I’ll be okay. Let’s just finish this up and head home.”

She gave a hesitant nod, then moved faster, focused. Her light dimmed a little after that. And I hated that I was the reason.

We finished shopping and loaded the car quietly. The ride home was mostly silent, but not cold. Just… thoughtful.

As soon as we stepped into the house, she glanced at me with renewed determination.

“I’ll cook us a warm meal,” she said, slipping off her shoes.

I nodded and turned toward my room, my head still pounding. The pain hadn’t left—it had only deepened.

Once inside, I collapsed onto the bed. 

And that’s when I felt it.

The air shifted.

A chill wrapped around my spine, crawling like shadows over skin.

Then, I saw him.

Thanatos.

He sat beside me, cloaked in black, his presence like a void sucking the warmth out of the room.

“Cullen,” he said, his voice deep, cold, and final. “You will suffer if you keep doing this.”

I didn’t answer.

“You must let her go,” he continued, his words laced with fury. “Tonight.”

I stared at him in silence, pain roaring behind my eyes.

“What if I don’t?” I asked, steady but soft.

“Then her soul will vanish,” he said darkly. “And yours too.”

His eyes glowed with ancient fire.

“I’m giving you one last chance. Let her go. Tonight.”

And then—just like that—he vanished.

The silence left in his place was unbearable. 

So was the ache in my chest.

Let her go? After everything?

I stared at the ceiling, numb.

It wouldn’t be hard to let her leave.

But if I did… 

I knew I’d never be the same again.