Portia's P.O.V.
"So, how old are you?" Levi asked, setting his fork down — a signal that the appetizer round was officially over. He didn't seem like the type to talk while eating.
"I'm twenty-four," I replied with a cheerful tone, trying to lift the mood a bit. "You?"
"Thirty-four," he said plainly.
"Is it my turn to ask a question?" I asked with a smile. He gave a slight nod.
"What's your favorite color?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You first."
His eyes locked onto mine, intense and unreadable. There was something so commanding about the way he looked at me — it made my heart skip.
"Grey," I answered. "But I think red's cool, too."
"I like white," he said, voice quiet but sure. I wasn't entirely convinced he'd thought about it before, but it seemed to fit him.
The salad arrived, and it looked like it had been plated by an artist — vibrant, intricate, too beautiful to eat.
"Eat," Levi said, almost like an order.
So I did. Silence settled between us again as we ate, until he put down his utensils and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"What keeps you busy?" he asked, suddenly serious again.
"I studied web engineering," I said. "I've been working with apps. Right now, I'm in a team of my own — but I'm also planning to go to grad school for my master's."
"So you're not currently working?"
"No, I am," I said quickly. "Just independently now, with a small team."
"Good. Walk me through it sometime," he said.
"What about you?" I asked, giving him a tentative smile. "What keeps you busy?"
"My company," he said curtly. No further detail.
His short answers made me feel like I was boring him. I tried to sit straighter, adjust my posture, act less nervous.
"You look tense," he said, studying me. "Wanna go to the powder room and relax a little?"
The suggestion stung — not because it was unkind, but because it was true. I nodded quickly, hiding my shame behind a polite smile.
"Oh— thank you. Excuse me."
I rushed to the powder room, trembling. Get it together, Portia. My reflection looked like a bundle of nerves. I splashed cold water on my forehead, breathing in and out to slow my panic.
What am I doing here? Why do I feel like I don't belong?I remembered my old classmates laughing at me for always being single — for being too awkward, too "different."
I pulled out a tissue, dabbed my face, reapplied a bit of lipstick, and sprayed a small amount of my favorite perfume on my wrist. The scent grounded me. I straightened my shoulders.
When I stepped out, I wore a new face. Calm. Composed. The storm inside me silenced.
As I sat back down, Levi glanced at me. "Feeling better? Took you long enough. I thought you ran away."
That stung — but before I could say anything, he added, "Don't get nervous. It's just me."
His tone was flat, but something in his eyes softened. "Collect yourself. Be comfortable. Wear your confidence."
I smiled, a real one this time. "Thank you. That helped. Let's eat."
"You can talk while we eat," he said. "You don't have to sit in silence."
I nodded. "Um, Levi?"
He was focused on his plate but responded with a distracted, "Eh?"
"Why did you invite me to dinner?"
"It's my mother's birthday," he replied, eyes shifting from me back to his food.
"Oh! Let's greet her, then. What's her number?" I said, trying to cheer up the moment.
"Yeah. Let's greet her," he murmured, then looked up — but not at me. At the sky.
I paused. Something didn't feel right.
"Hurry and finish your food," he said. "We'll go somewhere after."
We chatted a bit while waiting for the bill. Despite his lack of warmth, I enjoyed talking to him. His words were often blunt, sometimes even harsh — but there was an unfiltered honesty to them that made him strangely… magnetic.
After dinner, we walked along the beach. I took off my heels, letting the cool sand brush against my feet.
"Take off your shoes too," I told him.
He shook his head. "I'm wearing socks."
"Won't that be uncomfortable?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry. Let me escort you."
That surprised me. A gentlemanly gesture, hidden beneath that stone-cold exterior.
We climbed a large rock near the shore and sat side by side. He stared at the sky, and I couldn't help but stare at him. There was a sadness in his eyes.
"Levi," I said gently, "you mentioned it's your mom's birthday… Shouldn't we greet her?"
He pointed toward the sky. "She's up there."
I felt a lump rise in my throat. "Hello, Mrs. Everett," I said, waving at the stars. "Happy birthday. I'm with your handsome son. You must be just as beautiful up there."
I let out a breath and looked at Levi. He smiled — just a small, shy smile.
His first one.
Without thinking, I took out my phone and snapped a picture.
"Hey!" he frowned, his smile vanishing. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I was just taking a selfie," I said, quickly flipping the camera.
He glanced at the screen, then handed the phone back. "Okay."
"My mom passed away, too," I said quietly.
He nodded. "Did it make you sad?"
"Of course. I still miss her every day. Sometimes I just cry. It's the only thing that helps."
Then — a drop of water.
"It's raining," he said, holding out his hand as the drizzle grew heavier.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head up. The rain felt freeing — like a baptism.
"Hey, lady. Let's go. It's going to pour."
I opened my eyes and saw him standing, hair wet, water dripping from his forehead down his sharp nose, onto his collarbone. He had removed his jacket, revealing a now-soaked white shirt clinging to his frame.
He extended his hand, and I took it.
As the rain grew heavier, he held his suit jacket over both of us. "There's a cabin nearby. Let's go."
Thunder cracked in the sky. I froze, panicked by the sound, hugging myself.
"Calm down," he said softly, pulling me closer under the jacket.
We rushed to the cabin. He fumbled for his keys, finally unlocking the door and ushering me inside.
"Sit here," he said, pointing to a wooden chair near the entrance.
I obeyed, shivering as thunder roared again. I screamed and curled into myself.
Narrator's P.O.V.
Hearing her cry out, Levi rushed in. His brows furrowed. He saw Portia curled into a ball, shaking, her eyes shut tight and tears falling down her face.
Without a word, he pulled her into a hug — but it wasn't enough. She was too far gone.
So, in desperation, he gently slapped her cheek.
Her eyes flew open in shock. Levi cupped her face, voice raised — either from frustration or the thunder overhead.
"What's happening, Portia?"
"I'm scared. Please… help me," she sobbed.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She met his eyes.
"Pull yourself together."
And slowly, she returned to herself.
She wrapped her arms around him, crying against his chest. He froze — then gently stroked her hair.
"Shhh," he whispered.
Lifting her with ease, he carried her into the kitchen, set her on the counter, and rummaged through a drawer for earplugs. He placed them in her ears, then scooped her up again.
"Let's get you changed. Don't panic, okay?"
She nodded, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
He brought her to the bathroom and sat her gently in the tub. He crouched in front of her, tucking her damp hair behind her ear.
"You look like a lost rabbit," he said, without thinking.
She didn't respond — eyes closed, lip trembling.
He removed his suit jacket from around her, turned on the shower, and let the water pour over them both.
Kneeling, he cleaned the sand from her feet. Then he leaned in, just inches from her face.
"Portia."
She opened her eyes.
Their gazes locked.
And then — their lips collided.
Breathless, desperate, and electric — they kissed like they had been waiting a lifetime. Each second carried the weight of their fears and the fire of their desire. Nothing else mattered.
And somewhere, in the eye of the storm, two broken hearts cracked open — just enough for something new to begin.