MY PROBLEM NOT MY CHOICE

By the time I dragged myself out of work, I was a walking corpse.

The café had chewed me up and spit me out, the boss glaring holes through me every time I breathed too loud, and customers treating me like Siri with legs. My whole body ached. My brain begged for sleep.

But the mark on my wrist burned.

It had burned all day under the apron, a steady pulse of heat like a second heartbeat I didn’t ask for. Every time I looked at it, the glow seemed stronger, sharper, like it was daring me to forget what had happened.

I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and kept walking, muttering under my breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Totally fine. Just another day in the life of Nanya: underpaid, overworked, and apparently cursed. Lovely.”

The city buzzed with traffic and neon lights, but I couldn’t shake the weight pressing on my shoulders. That prickling sensation—the one that makes you feel like someone is staring at you.

Naturally, considering my experience last night, you'd think I would run... hahaha I didn't, instead...

I slowed. Looked around. Nothing. Just people, cars, the usual chaos... I looked again

Then I saw him.

Leaning against a wall under a flickering streetlight, like he belonged there. Hands in his coat pockets, shoulders loose, but his eyes locked on me. Watching. Always watching.

Of course it was him.

I should have screamed. Or run. Or at least pretended not to notice. Instead, my mouth betrayed me. “Do you follow all the girls you doom, or am I just special?”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. He pushed off the wall and walked toward me, slow and steady. Each step made the mark flare hotter until I had to clench my fists to hide the tremor.

His scent hit before he got close—clean, sharp, like storms and smoke, with something warm underneath that made my chest tighten. He smelled way too good for someone who was supposed to be the root of my nightmare.

When he stopped in front of me, the world shrank to just him. His presence was overwhelming, pressing against my lungs until I couldn’t breathe right.

“You should have died,” he said flatly. No greeting. No preamble. Just that.

I blinked at him. “Wow. Hello to you too. Great opener. Very polite.”

His mouth twitched, not in a smile. In annoyance. “Sarcasm won’t change the truth. You were not meant to survive. I broke the law to save you, and because of that, the balance is ruined.”

I crossed my arms to keep from trembling. “Balance? Law? What are you, a cosmic accountant?”

His eyes narrowed, sharp as knives. “You joke because you’re afraid. And yes, I can hear it.”

I froze. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and merciless. “Your thoughts are loud, Nanya. You’re wondering why I smell the way I do. You’re cataloging every detail of me while pretending you hate my presence. And deep down, you’re already falling.”

Heat shot to my face so fast I thought I’d combust. “I am not—”

“Yes, you are.” His tone was final, cutting me off like a blade. “It doesn’t matter. Your attraction is irrelevant. You’ll be dead soon.”

The words landed like ice water dumped on my head.

I tried to laugh, to make it sound like a joke. “You keep saying that like you’re proud of it.”

“I’m not proud. I’m annoyed,” he snapped. “You shouldn’t exist anymore. The fact that you do makes you my problem. And I don’t want problems.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his nearness scrambled my brain. “So let me get this straight. You saved me, you branded me with this—” I yanked up my sleeve, shoving the glowing mark in his face, “—and now you’re mad that I’m not dead?”

His gaze flicked to the mark, then back to me, and for a flicker of a second, I thought I saw guilt. But it vanished as quickly as it came.

“You should be grateful I intervened at all,” he said coldly. “Instead, you stand here whining like a child.”

I bristled. “Excuse me for not throwing a thank-you parade for the guy who tells me I’m doomed every five minutes.”

He stepped closer, so close I could feel his breath against my cheek. My stupid heart betrayed me, pounding faster, harder. I hated it. I hated that part of me noticed how sharp his jawline was, how his eyes seemed endless, how his scent made my knees weak.

“Stop it,” I whispered before I could think.

“Stop what?” His voice dropped lower, sharper.

“Reading me like a diary.” My throat felt tight. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said, eyes locking on mine. “I know you want to pretend you’re brave. I know you mask fear with sarcasm. I know you’d rather bite than break. And I know that, despite everything, part of you is already drawn to me.”

My breath caught. He wasn’t wrong, and that terrified me more than anything.

I shook my head. “This is insane. I’m not—this isn’t—”

“You don’t have to admit it,” he said, stepping back finally, giving me air but leaving me reeling. “But attraction won’t save you. Nothing will.”

The mark on my wrist flared, hotter than ever. I gasped, clutching it. “Why does it do that?”

“Because your body is counting down.” His words were merciless. “Every burn, every pulse, brings you closer to the end. You are alive on borrowed time, and when it runs out—” He leaned in again, eyes hard as stone. “No god will save you. Not even me.”

My stomach twisted, a cold knot of fear and anger tangling together.

I forced a bitter laugh. “So what now? I just wait around until I drop dead? Great plan. Solid life advice.”

He tilted his head, unimpressed. “If you value the days you have left, don’t waste them.”

And with that, he turned, walking into the shadows like he owned them.

I stood frozen, my wrist throbbing, my mind a mess of denial and unwanted desire. My heart hammered too fast, too loud, and I hated that part of me wanted to chase after him.

“God help me,” I whispered. “I think I’m already falling.”

The mark burned in reply, and I knew my nightmare was just getting started.