He took her into his car.
The dog followed them, whining.
He didn't even mind.
All that mattered was Irene.
His heart pounded.
He held her close.
Nervous.
Even though she was soaked.
When they reached his villa, he quickly guided her inside.
Warm light. Quiet halls.
He grabbed some warm napkins.
Gently cleaned her.
Made sure her body temperature returned to normal.
But Irene still looked haunted.
Like she had just woken from a nightmare.
She clutched him tightly.
Whispered about her mother.
He listened.
Careful. Patient.
Holding her like he would never let go.
Hours passed.
Then hunger woke her.
Her head ached.
Her stomach growled.
The room… unfamiliar.
Where… where was she?
A soft voice broke the silence.
"Oh… you awake?"
She froze.
Her eyes darted around.
The rain still fell heavily outside.
She hugged herself.
Pretending calm.
"Oh… it's you. How did I end up here?".
Oh… you don't remember?"
He stepped closer.
Handed her a set of clothes.
"Change out of the wet gown, and don't catch a cold " he said.
She stared.
A little smile tugged at her lips.
"Now you sound like my dad," she teased.
He didn't reply.
Walked away instead.
Grumbling.
She let out a quiet laugh.
The clothes were huge.
Long sleeves swallowed her hands.
Pants dragged at her feet.
Yet… warm.
Comforting.
She approached him slowly.
They stayed together in silence.
But her stomach growled again.
Breaking the quiet.
Echoing alongside the rain.
She turned to him.
"Hmm… can you cook?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"And you?"
She shook her head.
Pretending illness.
"Oh… the headache… the stomach pain… oh, such sorrow," she teased.
He laughed.
Light. Surprising.
She followed him into the kitchen.
"You? Cook? Please. You'll probably burn everything," she said, smirking.
He glanced at her.
"Watch and learn," he said, voice low.
But she didn't watch quietly.
She leaned on the counter.
"Bet you'll ruin it. Watch out for the oil—don't set the pan on fire," she mocked.
He ignored her teasing.
Knife in hand.
Oil in pan.
Slicing. Dicing. Frying.
Every movement… precise.
Perfect.
Like her parents.
She gasped softly.
Her chest… tightened.
The smells. The rhythm. The quiet care.
Her memories hit her.
How she missed this.
She leaned closer.
"Okay… wow. Not bad," she said, pretending not to care.
He glanced at her.
"Not bad?" he teased back.
She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah… for once, I'll admit it," she said quickly, defensive.
He smirked.
Minutes passed.
He plated the food.
Set it carefully in front of her.
Her fingers hovered over the fork.
She stared.
Drumroll… tension… silence.
She lifted a bite to her mouth.
The aroma hit her first.
Familiar. Comforting.
She chewed slowly.
Eyes widened.
Her heart skipped.
It… tasted perfect.
Warm. Home. Safe.
She looked up.
He was watching.
Careful. Serious. Soft.
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered.
Just this.
This quiet, fragile moment.
Her heart beat too fast.
His gaze didn't waver.
They didn't speak.
But the silence… said everything.
And still…
Something hung in the air.
Unspoken.
Electric.
Impossible to ignore.
She swallowed.
He stared at her waiting for her reaction.
who was the he. he was...