Should I go and lose my will?
Or should I fight and try to resist?
Chapter 5
Tim was deep in his own world, playing back their reactions in his head, when a sudden blast of shouting broke his concentration. Startled, his head spun around to find out where the noise was coming from.
About two blocks up, a guy and a girl were standing in a doorway. It looked like they'd just stepped outside, but they weren't going anywhere. They were screaming at each other, their voices cutting through the air like a knife.
Without even thinking about it, Tim slowed down. He couldn't help himself—he had to see what was going down. It was clear they were having a massive blow-up, but he couldn't tell what it was actually about.
After several minutes of heated exchange, the guy finally gave up. He threw his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat, turned around, and stormed back inside, slamming the door so hard the glass probably rattled.
Enraged by his action, she flung her bag at the door and kicked it hard.
"Yeah? And I'm done with you, you two-timing bastard!" Tim heard her shout.
For a few seconds, she stood frozen, breathing heavily. Then she squatted to retrieve her bag. As she straightened and turned to step down from the porch, she cried out, "Damn!" and leaned heavily against the railing.
By now, Tim was close enough to see that she had injured her leg when she kicked the door. "How pitiful," he thought. Seeing how much she was struggling made Tim's heart sink. He couldn't just walk away while she was hurting. He stepped toward her, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.
"Hey, let me help you down," he said, his voice soft and careful. He reached out a hand, offering her a bit of support.
The sound of a total stranger speaking caught her completely off guard. She stiffened; her eyes darted toward him in surprise. "Who told you I needed help?" she snapped, attempting to limp down on her own.
Tim's composure faltered. "Forgive me. I only thought I could be of assistance." He was about to turn away when her hand slipped from the railing. She stumbled forward, about to fall headfirst, but Tim reacted quickly, reaching out and catching her before she hit the ground.
"Damn sh—" The irritant words froze in her throat the moment she looked up. One look into his quiet, steady eyes was enough to make her temper vanish, replaced by a sudden, calm stillness.
As Tim helped her back onto her feet, his hands trembled slightly with nervous energy.
"Thank you," she murmured softly.
Tim smiled shyly and averted his eyes. "I hope you—you're not badly hurt?"
"I'll be alright," she said. "I just need to get home." She leaned on him for support as they carefully descended the porch.
"I don't think you'll get very far with that leg," he said with concern. The tension in her face told him how much it hurt.
"I'll manage," she replied, forcing a crooked smile that was oddly charming.
When they reached a car parked by the sidewalk, Tim said, "Why don't you wait here while I get you a cab?" As he spoke, he took the chance to observe her more closely. She was slightly taller than he was—since he stood at five foot eight, she was probably around five nine or five ten. Her hair was a waterfall of silver, spilling down her back and catching the glow of the streetlight like a spider's web under a full moon. Her eyes were a deep, piercing blue—they looked soft and honest, even though they were heavy with whatever pain she was going through.
Every detail of her face seemed perfect, from the slight point of her nose to the soft, glossy curve of her lips that caught the light. But it was the sadness that stood out most; tear tracks stained her cheeks, and the stress of the night was etched into the fine lines around her eyes. Even with the hurt written all over her, she was breathtaking—like a beautiful tragedy he couldn't look away from.
Without protest, she allowed Tim to help her lean against the car before he left to find a cab. She felt grateful that this kind stranger—whose eyes offered quiet solace—had come to her aid. She also regretted the sharpness with which she had lashed out at him earlier.
Though her anger had subsided, her heart still ached deeply from the pain her fiancé—no, her ex-fiancé—had caused her. The injury from kicking the door was nothing compared to that emotional wound. Still, when she tested her injured foot against the pavement, she winced. The pain surged through her, briefly eclipsing everything else.
Spotting a cab approaching, she forced a smile to mask her discomfort. She knew it would be him returning, and she didn't want him to see how much she was hurting.
It comforted her, somewhat, to realize that perhaps not all men were selfish, pompous pricks like her ex. She was certain that if this man were her ex-fiancé, he would have demanded something in return before offering help. The thought made her bristle. Handsome and elegant as he was, her ex had been nothing more than an arrogant son of a bitch.
The cab pulled up beside her. Tim stepped out and walked over. She slipped one arm around his neck as he helped her into the vehicle. Once she was seated comfortably, he shut the door.
"Well, goodbye," he said. "I hope your leg heals soon."
She looked at him through the cab window, puzzled. "Hey, aren't you coming with me? I could drop you off."
"No, no need," Tim replied with a smile. "My destination is just up ahead."
"Oh… if you say so," she said softly. "Thank you, all the same." Her blue eyes sparkled with genuine appreciation. That subtle glow warmed Tim's heart.
As the cab pulled away, he watched until it disappeared from sight. Then he turned and headed toward the bus stop, holding onto the image that had stirred something deep within him.
He didn't wait long before a bus arrived. He boarded and took a seat by the window. As the bus carried him home, the thought that he could have been riding alongside her weighed heavily on him. It was a pity he had to forgo the company of such a beauty—simply because he didn't have enough money. The embarrassment of being unable to pay the cab fare after dropping her off would have been unbearable.
"Oh, great," he muttered under his breath as another realization struck him—he hadn't even gotten her name.
Well, he thought, I don't suppose I'll ever see her again.