Wow.
Rich coming from someone whose cheekbones probably had their own credit card.
"I lost everything I brought," I said defensively. "Everything."
He shrugged, cracking open his drink. "Then maybe next time, don't leave your luggage where thieves can grab it."
I narrowed my eyes. "Wow. Inspirational. I'll make sure to stitch that on a pillow."
He turned, clearly ready to walk again.
"Wait!" I said quickly, stepping beside him now, trying to keep up as he moved. "Look, I'm not trying to bother you, okay? I just My dad's in the hospital. He's dying. I came here to find his family, but I don't know anything. Not the language, not the people, nothing."
He stopped again.
Turned.
And this time, his expression shifted barely but I caught it. Something flickered there. Maybe sympathy. Maybe just recognition.
"Where are you supposed to go?" he asked, slower this time.
I reached into my purse, pulled out the folded address my mom had shoved into my hand that morning. It was slightly crumpled now, smudged with heat and stress.
He took it, glanced at it once, and exhaled quietly through his nose.
"That's not exactly a place you'll want to walk to in those," he said, eyeing my heels.
I looked down at them, then back up.
"I wasn't planning to walk anywhere, actually. But the universe clearly had other plans."
He handed the address back and started walking again, this time slower.
I followed without needing an invitation.
His footsteps were steady, not rushed, not caring if I kept up or not. The sun was already dipping lower, casting long shadows across the narrow path we walked.
He turned into a courtyard through an old, iron gate that groaned faintly as it swung open. I slipped in behind him, just before it shut. My heels clicked once against the uneven stone before I quieted myself like walking into someone's private world and realizing too late you shouldn't be there.
The house was… different.
Worn, but dignified.
A kind of silent richness not flashy, but old, deep-rooted. Like the kind of place where history sat quietly in the corners.
He climbed the small step to the wooden doorway, took out a key, and paused just before unlocking it.
He turned.
Brows drawn. Eyes unreadable.
"What are you doing?"
Not rude. Not exactly kind either. Just… indifferent. Like he was tired of speaking already.
I took a small breath. "I don't have anywhere to go."
"Not my problem," he said immediately, like he'd rehearsed it.
"I'm not asking for anything huge. Just somewhere I can figure things out. I'll leave as soon as I get what I need."
He didn't reply. His eyes lowered, slowly scanning me my shoes, my posture, the wrinkles forming at the edge of my pressed shirt. Everything about me screamed out-of-place.
"This isn't a hotel."
"I know that."
"You don't speak the language."
"I'm aware."
"You followed a man you don't know to a place you've never been, and you want to stay here?"
His voice dipped, just slightly.
"I didn't follow a man," I shot back. "I followed the only person who didn't look at me like I was an alien dropped from the sky."
He stared at me for a long moment. Not blinking. Not moving.
And then without another word he turned the key and pushed the door open.
I stepped forward instinctively, but he stopped in the doorway, blocking me.
"I didn't say you could come in."
I froze.
My throat tightened, fingers clutching the strap of my purse tighter than necessary.
"But I can't stay outside all night."
"That's not my concern."
My lips parted, a protest forming but something in his face made the words stick in my throat.
He looked calm. Collected. But too calm.
Like he was watching something burn… from a distance.
"Please," I said again, quieter this time. "Just one night. I don't know where else to go."
Why can't he just melt already?
He didn't answer immediately.
And then, just when I thought he'd shut the door in my face—He stepped aside.
No words. No nod. No kindness in his eyes.
Just quiet permission.
And the strangest feeling that this wasn't the beginning of mercy.
I stepped inside.
The first thing I noticed wasn't the silence.
It was how clean it was.
Not showroom clean not decorated for guests. Just… meticulous. Every surface in place. No clutter. No softness. No warmth either.
Just discipline.
The kind of home where shoes are never allowed inside, and dust wouldn't dare settle even if it tried.
He closed the door behind me with a soft click, and I suddenly felt like I'd walked into a stranger's memory. I stood awkwardly by the entryway, clutching my purse like a safety net.
"You can leave your shoes there," he said flatly, already walking past me, his back turned.
I slipped them off silently, placing them next to his perfectly lined pair by the door.
He disappeared down a hallway, and for a second I was tempted to just stand there. Like maybe not moving would make it less real the fact that I was now inside some man's house, in a village I didn't even know the name of, because my father might die and I had no one else.
I followed the faint sound of his footsteps into what looked like a sitting room minimalist, dark wood furniture, no personal photos anywhere.
He set down his drink on the small table and finally turned to look at me again.
"You'll sleep on the sofa," he said. "Bathroom's down the hall. Don't touch anything."
"Thanks," I muttered. Though it didn't feel like thanks. It felt like a warning.
He didn't sit.
Didn't ask me anything.
Just stood there, staring at me like I'd dragged mud in on a silk rug.
I cleared my throat. "Is there… a charger I can borrow?"
He didn't speak for a second. Then: "Table drawer. Try not to break anything."
I nodded, moving toward the drawer and pretending I didn't feel the weight of his gaze following every step I took.
As I plugged in my phone, I glanced up at him and found him already looking away, walking toward the hallway again.
He stopped at the edge, turned back slightly.
"One night," he said. "You leave tomorrow."
I swallowed hard. "Understood."
Then he was gone.
And I was alone.
In the middle of a stranger's home, with a dying father in another country, and the very real sense that I'd just walked into something I couldn't name.