Kael's POV
The night stretched on, quiet except for the low hum of passing cars. Maya hadn't moved from the bench, still clutching her phone like she could will Soraya to answer. Her stubbornness was admirable, but also worrying.
I studied her for a moment before finally breaking the silence.
"Can I ask you something?"
She turned her head, brows lifting. "What?"
"How did you and Soraya become friends?" The words slipped out softer than I meant. "You're so close, like family. It's rare. You don't see that often."
Maya gave a small laugh, one that didn't quite mask her fatigue. "Funny thing, really. I met her years ago. We were very young, she was just a girl then—alone and cold. I'll never forget it. She sat by the roadside like the world had ended, crying so hard it broke me to look at her. Later, I found out she'd just lost her mother."
My chest tightened at her words.
"I couldn't leave her there," Maya went on, voice gentle, like she was recalling a fragile memory. "She was starving, shivering… she had no one. So I brought her home to my parents. At first, it was temporary. Just food, dry clothes, a roof for the night. But when we realized she had no family left, well… my parents decided to take her in. And since then, she's been my sister in every way that matters."
Her eyes softened as she spoke, a tender smile tugging at her lips. "Soraya doesn't always say it, but I know she needed me. Just as much as I needed her."
I said nothing, but the words hit me harder than I expected.
Losing a mother… I knew what that felt like, though not in the same way. My mother had chosen exile, walking away from us, from me. But the emptiness she left behind was still the same—raw, gaping, unhealed. Soraya had carried that same wound, only hers had been even crueler.
And she had survived. With Maya's kindness to anchor her.
For a moment, pity welled in me, sharp and aching. Yet alongside it came admiration—not just for Soraya's quiet endurance, but for Maya's heart.
Humans. They weren't like us. My kind had been raised on suspicion, pride, and blood debts. But here… I'd seen nothing but kindness. At work, in small exchanges with strangers, and now—sitting beside Maya—I realized just how different they were. Maybe even better.
"You're… a good person," I said finally, my voice low. "Not everyone would have done what you did."
Maya chuckled, a little embarrassed, and shrugged. "Maybe not. But it felt right. And Soraya… she's worth it."
Just then, the rumble of a bus drew our attention. Its headlights cut across the street as it hissed to a stop in front of us. I glanced at her, firm but gentle.
"This is the last bus. You should go, Maya. Soraya's safe—I'm sure of it. She's probably already asleep in some hotel, getting the rest she needs."
Maya's fingers curled tighter around her phone. Worry flickered in her eyes. "I don't like not knowing. What if..."
"Trust me," I pressed longer. "She's fine. Go home."
She hesitated, torn between her instinct and my reassurance. But before she could decide, the doors snapped shut and the bus rumbled away, tail-lights disappearing into the dark. Maya let out a small, defeated groan.
"Great. There goes the last bus. It's a long walk home from here."
I pushed myself to my feet. "Then I'll walk you home."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, you don't have to..."
"I do," I cut in, my tone leaving no room for argument. "It's too late for you to be out here alone."
She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed in defeat. "Fine. But only if you let me buy you coffee tomorrow."
I almost smiled. "Deal."
We stepped off the curb just as her phone buzzed. Maya froze, snatching it up so fast I thought she'd drop it. Her eyes scanned the screen, and for the first time that night, her whole body seemed to exhale. Relief lit her face, soft and bright.
"She texted," Maya breathed, then read aloud: I'm sorry. I'll explain everything soon. Please don't worry.
This time her smile reached her eyes, and the weight that had been dragging her shoulders all night seemed to lift. "She's really fine."
I nodded. "Told you."
But deep inside, my certainty didn't match my words.
Because no matter how reassuring Soraya's message sounded, I knew one thing for certain—her safety was not something I trusted in the hands of Ethan Vander.
"Come on," I said quietly, nodding toward the road ahead. "Let's get you home."
Maya still wrapped herself in my coat as we walked down the quiet street, our footsteps echoing against the pavement.
"You don't have to worry about me," she said after a moment, her voice carrying that same quiet stubbornness she'd held all night. "I'm used to this neighborhood. It's not dangerous."
"Danger doesn't announce itself," I replied, scanning the alleyways as we passed. "It waits until you stop paying attention."
That earned me a small smile. "You sound like Soraya. She's always telling me I'm too trusting."
"Maybe she's right."
Maya shrugged, though her expression softened. "I guess so. But… being cautious all the time feels like living half a life, you know? My parents taught me that people deserve kindness first, suspicion second. That's how I want to live."
Her words struck me harder than I expected, sharp and foreign in their simplicity. Where I came from, suspicion wasn't second—it was everything. Trust was a luxury. Kindness… a weakness. Yet here she was, walking beside me, unafraid, believing in something I could barely imagine.
"You surprise me," I admitted quietly.
She tilted her head. "Is that good or bad?"
Good," I said after a beat. "Rare."
Her cheeks flushed in the glow of the streetlights, but she said nothing more.
Then the night split apart.
"Help! Please—someone!"
We both froze. The voice had come from a narrow alley just ahead, swallowed in darkness.
I felt Maya's breath hitch as she stepped closer, her hand clasping mine softly.
My gaze hardened, instincts snapping into place as the echo of the scream bled into silence.
And suddenly, the street didn't feel quiet anymore.