The Next Day – Aelin's House
The air in the small private room was thick with tension. Aelin stood anxiously beside the table where her little pet Jojo lay, chest rising and falling weakly.
Eiden wore a borrowed white coat two sizes too big, sleeves rolled awkwardly as he scrubbed his hands with exaggerated seriousness. His friends huddled in the corner, whispering nervously.
"Bro… what if he kills it?" one muttered.
"Shut up," hissed another. "Just let him try."
Eiden slipped on gloves, masking his nerves with a calm, practiced face. He picked up the instruments laid out, moving with slow precision, as though he had done this a thousand times.
Aelin clasped her hands tightly. "Please… save him."
"I will," Eiden said firmly, his voice steady. I have to.
He leaned over Jojo, eyes narrowing with focus. Every movement he made was sharp, deliberate, almost professional. His friends gawked, jaws dropping.
Minutes passed like hours until finally—Jojo stirred faintly, letting out a weak sound. Aelin gasped in relief, tears welling in her eyes. "You… you did it!"
Eiden straightened, wiping his brow, wearing the proud expression of a surgeon after a victory. His friends crowded him the moment Aelin left to comfort Jojo.
"Bro, HOW did you pull that off?!" one demanded.
"Yeah, you don't even know what operation means!" another added.
Eiden's lips curved into a smirk. Slowly, he pulled back his hair to reveal a tiny earphone tucked in his ear.
A faint voice crackled from it, still mid-instruction: "…now carefully close the incision—steady… yes, like that…"
His friends' eyes went wide. "You were being coached?!"
Eiden chuckled, sliding the earphone out. "A good fighter always knows when to call backup."
The room erupted with laughter and disbelief, but Eiden only leaned against the wall, smirking—because all that mattered was the way Aelin had looked at him: with trust.
Jojo hopped clumsily around the grass, still weak but alive, and Aelin laughed with pure joy. The golden sunlight caught in her hair, her eyes sparkling as she turned to Eiden.
"You saved him," she said, her voice soft with gratitude. "I don't know how to thank you."
Eiden rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look casual though his chest swelled with pride. "Seeing you smile like that… it's thanks enough."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and then she clapped her hands as if remembering something important."Then you have to come to my engagement party!"
Eiden froze. "Engagement… party?"
"Yes!" she said with childlike excitement. "It's this weekend. I'd love for you to be there—you're like family now after saving Jojo."
His friends behind him were barely holding in their laughter. One muttered, "Bro, she just friend-zoned you into family," and another elbowed him with a grin.
But Eiden wasn't laughing. His smirk cracked for just a second, before he forced it back into place. "Of course," he said smoothly. "Wouldn't miss it."
Aelin beamed, thanking him again before running inside with Jojo.
The moment she was gone, his friends exploded in laughter.
"Engagement party! Bro, you're done for!"
"Imagine falling in love at first sight—just to clap at her engagement!"
Eiden clenched his fists, glaring at them, but the words burned deeper than he wanted to admit. Engagement? To who?
Train Station – Late Evening
The crowd buzzed with noise—vendors calling out, trains hissing steam, hurried footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Eros walked slowly through the station, his mind heavy with the priest's words. Someone special is coming…
He adjusted the strap of his bag, ready to board, when a sound cut through the noise.
Laughter. Light, unguarded, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Eros turned his head.
Across the platform, a young woman knelt on the ground, surrounded by a group of children. She was showing them how to fold paper birds, her hands moving with delicate grace. The children giggled when their folds went wrong, and she laughed with them—not at them, but with them—warmth glowing in her eyes.
For a moment, the entire station blurred. The rushing passengers, the whistles, the shouts—everything faded.
All Eros could see was her.
His chest tightened, his steps slowing to a halt. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath.
So this is what the priest meant…
The girl looked up briefly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and her smile caught the last trace of sunlight streaming through the station roof.
And just like that, Eros knew. He had fallen—completely, helplessly.
The crowd surged as a train whistled, steam billowing across the platform. By the time it cleared, the girl was already walking away, holding the children's hands as she guided them out of the station.
Eros's heart kicked in his chest. His feet moved before his mind could catch up.
He followed.
Through the busy platforms, weaving past travelers and vendors, his eyes never left her. The way she gently scolded a boy for running too fast, the way she bent down to fix a little girl's shoe—every small gesture tugged at him harder.
When the children's parents arrived, the kids rushed into their arms. The girl waved goodbye with a radiant smile, then turned to leave on her own.
Eros kept a careful distance, slipping into the flow of the crowd, but his gaze was locked on her.
Why can't I stop? he wondered, pulse quickening. Why does it feel like… if I lose sight of her now, I'll regret it forever?
The girl moved gracefully, unaware of the eyes burning holes in her every step. Out of the station, down a quiet street lit by golden lamps—Eros followed, every stride sealing his fate deeper.
Eros turned the corner, keeping her in sight, heart pounding like a drum. She walked ahead, her figure illuminated by the warm glow of the street lamps. He quickened his pace, determined not to lose her.
Then, out of nowhere, someone bumped into him—a rough shove that sent him stumbling into the wall.
He scrambled to regain his balance, blinking through the sudden disorientation. When he looked up, she was gone. The street was empty except for the fading echoes of her laughter.
"Damn it!" Eros muttered, chest heaving. He spun around, scanning every shadow, every alley—but she had vanished.
A hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to see his friend, arms crossed, sighing. "Eros… let it go. Let's go home."
Eros clenched his fists, staring down the empty street. His friend's voice was firm, yet understanding. "She's gone for tonight. We'll try again another time."
Reluctantly, Eros nodded, following his friend back toward the train station. But his mind wasn't on the journey home—only on the girl he had just lost.
I will find her, he thought, jaw tight. No matter what.
Late Night – Eros's Apartment
Eros sat cross-legged on the floor, the dim light of a single lamp casting sharp shadows across the room. A notebook lay open before him, pages filled with sketches of streets, train routes, and rough maps of the station.
His fists drummed against the table, restless. "Where could she have gone?" he muttered, scanning the page filled with scribbles of alleyways and platforms.
His friend leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "Dude… you're acting obsessed."
"I'm not obsessed," Eros snapped, though his voice lacked conviction. "I just… I can't lose her. I know she's out there, and I'll find her."
He flipped through the notebook again, noting the time she arrived at the station, the route she took with the children, and the streets that led out of it. Every detail mattered. Every moment could be a clue.
His friend groaned. "This is insane. You're making spy-level notes for some random girl."
Eros didn't reply. He circled a street on the map, tracing the path with his finger. "No," he said quietly, eyes burning. "She's not random. That laugh, that smile… she's the one the priest meant. I'll find her. I don't care how long it takes."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing. The plan was simple: stake out the station tomorrow, follow her routines, and never lose sight of her again.
The city slept, but Eros's mind raced. Every street, every shadow, every flicker of movement could lead him to her. He wouldn't fail—not this time.
The Next Day – Crowded City Street
The city roared around him—honking cars, shouting vendors, hurried footsteps—but Eros's eyes were elsewhere. Then, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, he saw her.
She wore a flowing yellow dress that swayed with every step, her wavy hair catching the morning light. A small mole rested just below her neck, delicate and unmistakable. Everything about her—the way she moved, the way she laughed quietly to herself—was etched into his mind from the moment he first saw her.
Heart pounding, Eros didn't hesitate. He revved his bike lightly, keeping pace behind her as she turned down a quieter street, her presence cutting through the noise of the city.
When they reached the gates of her university, he stopped, cut the engine, and leapt off the bike like a man possessed. The crowd around him seemed to vanish as he strode forward, every step confident, determined.
"I LOVE YOU!" His voice rang across the street, loud and unflinching, full of raw intensity.
She froze, eyes wide, as Eros gestured passionately, pointing at the yellow dress, the wavy hair, the mole on her neck. "Yes—you! I've been searching for you! The girl I saw at the station, the one I've been thinking about day and night… I LOVE YOU!"
The world seemed to pause, the noise fading into silence. Eros took a slow step closer, eyes locked on hers. "I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care how crazy this is. I had to tell you… I LOVE YOU."
The girl blinked, utterly stunned, caught between disbelief and the unmistakable pull of his sincerity.