>>>"The sound of sirens was the only thing grounding her to reality. Blood soaked through her scrubs, and the man she had just met an hour ago now lay dying in her arms."
•Seraphina's POV ( Female Lead )
11:43 p.m. — Saint Mercy Hospital, Emergency Wing.
My fingers trembled as I peeled off the stained gloves....Another operation....Another soul caught between life and death. I should feel proud. I saved him.
But all I felt was...numb.
I stepped out into the corridor, flicking my ID badge as if that could distract me from the exhaustion weighing down my spine. I needed air. Or coffee. Maybe both.
She grabs her coat and bag, rubbing her eyes, and walks out.
Heading toward way back my home.....
EXT. EMPTY CITY STREET – NIGHT
The city is almost silent. Pale streetlights flicker over the wet pavement. A soft drizzle begins to fall.
Seraphina walks alone, hugging her coat to herself. Her hair is slightly messy, strands clinging to her cheek. Her eyes are heavy, but alert.
She passes a dark alley.
A sharp breath catches in her throat.....
• Her Pov :
A man — slumped against the brick wall. Drenched. Bleeding.
Black shirt soaked in crimson. Head tilted back. Breathing, barely....
SERAPHINA (softly) Oh my God...
She steps closer, cautious.
Then saw him.....
Black suit. Bloodstains. Broad shoulders. And a presence that hit like a shockwave. The man was slouched against the wall on the street,pressing a crumpled jacket to his abdomen.
A deep crimson stain bloomed underneath it.
Our eyes locked.
His gaze was... sharp. Cold. Calculating. Like he'd memorized all the ways someone could die.
I took one step toward him, clutching my clipboard. Hey, Are You Ok? "Are you hurt?"
He didn't answer right away. Just stared, unblinking.
Then he smirked. "Do I look like I came for a flu shot, Young lady?"
I blinked. That voice—deep, laced with command. Like he was used to people obeying without question.
"You're bleeding," I said firmly, moving closer. "Let me check. I'll treat you—"
"No," he snapped, his voice low, dangerous.
I paused.
Seraphina: "Let me take you to the hospital, first," I said, stepping closer, reaching out. "You need real stitches, not street-side first aid. Let me take you to the hospital—"
His entire posture shifted — no longer the weary, bleeding stranger but a cornered animal baring fangs.
"No hospitals."
His voice snapped like a whip, sharp enough to slice through the humid silence.
I froze. My hand still suspended in the air between us.
Then, quieter... darker…
"I said no fucking hospitals."
It wasn't just fear — it was fury laced with something colder. Deeper. His eyes glinted beneath the dim streetlight, not with pain but with warning. A silent wall rising between us.
His breath was shallow, but the rage in his voice was controlled. Deadly.
"You're losing blood," I said, voice firmer now, squaring my stance. "And I'm not asking for your permission anymore."
He tilted his head, observing me — not like a man who was in danger, but like a predator sizing up an unpredictable prey.
"You're a doctor?" he asked finally.
"Almost. Third-year med school," I replied, eyes narrowing. "Close enough to save your stubborn life."
"You don't understand," I said, forcing calm into my tone even though my heart had jumped to my throat. "You could bleed out—"
"Then let me."
That stopped me cold. His words, hollow and unshaken, struck harder than any wound on his body.
His gaze locked with mine, distant and unforgiving.
"You don't know who I am."
And suddenly I realized — he wasn't scared of dying.
He was scared of being seen.
I swallowed hard. "Then tell me who you are."
He gave me a cold smirk. The kind that promised darkness.
"You're not ready for that answer, Young Lady". The silence between us burned hotter than the air around. The only sounds were the soft drip of blood hitting concrete and the low hum of a distant city refusing to sleep.
But still... I didn't back away.
Then, Suddenly, he collapsed.
I caught him before his body hit the ground, his weight suddenly collapsing against me. His blood-warmed shirt soaked through my own. My knees buckled slightly, but I held on — arms tightening around him, heart pounding louder than the sirens in my head.
His head rested against my shoulder, breath fanning weakly across my neck — slow... then slower.
I froze.
"Hey… hey! Mister!" I shook him slightly, my voice cracking. "Don't you dare die on me! You hear me?! Don't you fucking dare!"
>Two lives collided that night — one soaked in blood, the other in white. Neither knew their worlds had already begun to unravel.