The soft hum of an afternoon breeze drifted through the half-open windows of Amara's apartment, carrying the faint scent of rain and city dust. Outside, autumn was beginning to lean into evening — clouds dimming to dusky gold, light brushing against the polished glass of nearby buildings. Inside, however, chaos reigned.
Boxes were stacked unevenly by the wall, half-filled with folded clothes and labelled envelopes. Cleaning supplies scattered near the kitchen, and a broom leaned against the couch like it had given up. The air smelled faintly of soap and lemon polish, and the steady rhythm of a dust cloth brushing against furniture was the only sound.
Amara was deep in her cleaning frenzy.
She had tied her hair into a messy bun, strands of black hair falling over her glasses as she wiped the small bookshelf. She wasn't exactly sentimental, but something about packing up her apartment — the place that had seen her heartbreak and healing — made her chest feel strangely tight.
Tomorrow, she would move out.
She told herself it was just a practical decision — closer to her new work, easier commute, and safer neighbourhood. But deep down, she knew she was running from something intangible. From memories that lived between these walls — the nights she cried herself to sleep thinking of Kael, the mornings she woke up pretending she didn't.
Her new apartment would be a new start.
A clean slate.
She had just finished folding the throw blanket when a faint noise — a soft, rapid skittering — caught her attention.
At first, she thought it was just the wind knocking something over. But then came another sound — like tiny, deliberate steps across the floor.
Her eyes darted toward the corner near the curtain.
And there it was.
A spider.
Not the tiny, harmless kind. Oh no. This one was huge, its legs long and glossy black, glinting faintly under the warm light of her lamp.
"Ah—" Amara froze, her body stiffening, eyes wide behind her glasses.
Her throat locked, and for a second, she couldn't even scream. Then, pure panic rushed in.
"AaAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH—!"
Her shriek echoed through the entire apartment complex. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a box. The broom clattered to the floor, useless as her heart raced in her chest.
"Get out, get out, get out—!" she gasped, waving the duster like a weapon, though she couldn't bring herself to go near the creature.
The spider, as if mocking her, inched closer.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no!"
And then — a loud knock at her door.
"Amara?!"
The voice was deep, familiar — the kind that could slice through panic like thunder breaking through storm clouds.
Before she could answer, the door opened (of course he knew the passcode of her door — of course he did).
Damian Sinclair stepped inside, a takeout bag in one hand, brows furrowed. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the crisp white of his shirt half undone at the collar.
"What happened—"
He stopped when he saw her.
Amara stood by the couch, wielding her duster like a sword, pointing it at something invisible to him. Her glasses were slipping down her nose, cheeks flushed in sheer panic.
Damian blinked once. Then twice.
"…Spider?"
She turned to him, voice trembling. "It's huge, Damian! HUGE!"
He sighed — long, patient, exasperated in that fond way he always was around her.
"Where?"
"There—by the curtain!" she said, voice pitching higher.
Damian set the takeout down, rolled up his sleeves a little more, and in one smooth step, approached the corner. The spider — her terrifying, eight-legged nemesis — froze under his shadow.
"Stay back," he said calmly.
Amara didn't need telling twice. She climbed onto the couch.
Damian grabbed one of her cleaning rags, crouched low, and with one precise movement — squish.
Then, without hesitation, he wrapped it up, crossed the room, and tossed it out the open window.
When he turned back to her, she was still standing on the couch, clutching a pillow like a shield.
"It's gone," he said. "You're safe."
Amara blinked, her heart still pounding. "You—you killed it?"
"More like saved you from it," he said with a small smile.
Her body finally relaxed, the tension draining all at once. But before she could process it, Damian crossed the room, closed the distance between them, and pulled her gently into his arms.
The embrace was firm, grounding — the kind that said you're safe now.
For a moment, Amara just stood there, stunned. His scent — faint cedar and clean soap — surrounded her, steady and warm. Her heart stumbled once, then again, as if remembering something she hadn't let herself think about in years.
The spider, the fright — it all blurred into the background.
All she could hear was the quiet, steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear.
It felt… safe.
Too safe.
She realized, suddenly, that she wasn't shaking anymore.
When she looked up, Damian was gazing down at her, his expression unreadable — calm, but his eyes were soft, deep with something she couldn't name.
Then memory struck.
The same warmth. The same scent.
Her mind drifted years back — to another night when her heart had pounded in fear, and that same voice had called her name.
Flashback — College Years, The Halloween Night
The air was cold that night. A sharp wind sliced through the campus courtyard, carrying the crisp scent of fallen leaves and faint laughter from the old clock tower.
Halloween.
The student council had gone all out — orange lights, fake cobwebs, cardboard tombstones, and a giant banner:
"TEST OF COURAGE — ENTER IF YOU DARE."
Amara stood at the edge of the crowd, clutching her small flashlight like a lifeline.
"I shouldn't have joined this," she muttered under her breath.
Beside her, her friend giggled. "You joined because he's here, admit it."
"I—what—no—!" she stammered.
But it was true.
Kael Navarro, the university's golden boy, stood across the courtyard, surrounded by his usual entourage. His confident smile didn't falter even when the student body president announced that the test would take place in the abandoned dorm building near the edge of campus — rumoured to be haunted.
Kael, of course, volunteered first. Pride was his currency, and he would never let anyone call him a coward.
Damian, standing a few meters away, looked bored — tall, effortlessly composed, his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the crowd.
When the president asked for volunteers, he hadn't moved. But when someone mentioned that Amara Castellanos had joined, a faint, barely-there smile curved on his lips.
"I'll join," he said, stepping forward.
And just like that, every girl within earshot sighed.
The president explained the rules: ten pairs, chosen at random by drawing names from a box. They would enter the building two at a time. Whoever retrieved the plastic skull from the top floor would win an all-expenses-paid trip to Disneyland.
It sounded simple.
Until they stood before the looming silhouette of the abandoned dorm.
The windows were black holes. The door creaked open with a groan that sounded too human.
Amara's turn came. She reached into the box, heart racing.
Her partner: Kael Navarro.
Her breath caught.
Kael looked faintly amused when their eyes met. "Try to keep up," he said with a smirk.
She nodded nervously, clutching her flashlight tighter.
They entered.
The air inside was cold — the kind that felt alive. Dust floated in the faint moonlight slicing through broken windows. Every step echoed, every door hinge groaned.
For the first few minutes, Kael pretended to be fine — making jokes, teasing her when she flinched. But when a loud thud echoed from upstairs, his confident smirk faltered.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.
"Probably the wind," he muttered.
But his voice wavered.
When something darted across the hall — maybe a rat, maybe not — Kael yelped, grabbed her shoulder, and then, to her disbelief, bolted back toward the entrance.
"Kael! Wait!"