The rain poured harder, soaking through the red velvet of her dress, past her skin, straight into the quiet hollow of her chest. Catherine walked without direction — just away. Away from the slap. Away from the lies. Away from a version of herself that had waited far too long to be loved right.
The city blurred around her, headlights smearing into ghosts, umbrellas like shadows drifting past. Her heels clicked against the wet pavement, unsteady but determined. Her mascara had bled, her lipstick was gone, her earrings trembled with every shaky breath.
I should have stayed home.
She turned into an alley between two shops, hands gripping her arms now, shivering under the weight of too many feelings. Her heart pounded against her ribs, loud in her ears. That one slap had undone something deep — not just because it hurt, but because it was him.
How could he?
Her breath caught, and her knees nearly gave out.
But just before she fell, someone spoke.
"Hey—whoa, are you okay?"
A voice. Familiar. Steady.
She turned.
And there he was.
Collin Cooper — the stranger with the storm in his eyes and calm in his voice — standing under a black umbrella, his coat already soaked at the shoulders, concern etched into every inch of his face.
He didn't look like a businessman tonight. No cold suit. No polished armor.
Just a man — seeing her.
Catherine blinked, water dripping from her lashes. For a second, she thought maybe she imagined him.
"Catherine?" he asked again, softer this time.
Her name in his voice hit her like warmth in a freezing room.
She managed a nod — barely.
Collin stepped forward, offering the umbrella over her head without hesitation. "You're shivering. Jesus. What happened?"
She tried to answer, but the words caught in her throat.
He saw the red mark on her cheek.
His jaw tensed.
"Come on," he said gently. "Let's get you out of the rain first."
She didn't resist.
He wrapped his coat around her shoulders, guiding her to the small café across the street — the same one where they'd first met. The lights were low, the staff already cleaning up for the night, but when they saw Catherine, one barista rushed to unlock the door.
Inside, the warmth hit her like a wave.
Collin led her to a back corner booth, the one farthest from the windows.
He sat across from her, hands folded, watching her — not with pity, but patience.
"I shouldn't have come out," she finally whispered, voice hoarse. "I knew something was off… I just didn't want to believe it."
He nodded once, slowly. "Someone hurt you."
She looked down. "It's not just that. It's that I let it happen."
"No," he said firmly, quietly. "You loved someone who wasn't worthy of you. That's not weakness, Catherine. That's hope." He paused. "And he ruined it. That's on him."
Her eyes met his. There was no judgment in them. Just the kind of quiet strength that didn't demand anything in return.
They sat in silence for a moment, the rain tapping gently against the windows like a lullaby.
Finally, Collin smiled, just slightly.
"You know," he said, "I kept thinking about your name since the other night."
Her brow furrowed faintly.
"Catherine. Collin," he said with a quiet chuckle. "Same letter. Same stormy timing."
She gave a breath of a laugh. It came out broken, but real.
He leaned forward just a little.
"Whatever you've just walked away from…" he said, voice low, sincere, "I hope you never go back to it."
Catherine looked at him — really looked — for the first time tonight.
And for the first time in hours, the ache in her chest loosened.
Just a little.