KINA
I couldn't stop thinking about his mouth.
Aaron's.
The way his lips had barely brushed my neck before trailing up to my jaw. The way his breath had seized when he lifted me onto his desk like I weighed absolutely nothing. God, his hands, firm on my thighs, his voice low, dangerous, teasing.
"I shouldn't be doing this before a meeting," he'd murmured, half-chuckling.
And I'd laughed too, even though my fingers were already in his hair and I didn't want to let go.
I wanted more. Just one kiss had made my whole body ache. I'd been seconds away from begging him to lock the damn door when his phone rang.
Work.
Always work.
And me? I had my own load of crap piling on my desk, so I bolted, before I made a fool of myself again.
But before I left, he'd touched my wrist gently and said, "Would you be up for dinner tonight?"
It had taken me a second too long to respond.
Because the first thing that came to mind wasn't romance. It was blood. The man I'd dragged into my apartment like some trembling idiot. I could still see his face twisted in pain, his body limp, bleeding onto my floor.
I'd almost said no. Almost told Aaron I was busy.
But it had been weeks since he asked me out. Weeks since he looked at me like he wanted me. And for some pathetic reason, that mattered more than it should've.
Would I be a bad person?
So I smiled and said yes.
And now here I was, sitting at my desk hours later, staring blankly at the screen while every part of me screamed what if he's dead?
What if that stranger bled out on my couch?
What if my neighbors called the cops because of the smell?
What if they find him, and then find me, and then I lose everything?
My hands trembled over the keyboard. I hadn't even typed a damn sentence in the last hour. Just kept imagining a corpse rotting in my living room. Flashes of crimson on the floor. The way his eyes fluttered. The way he grunted when I touched his side.
What the hell was I thinking, leaving him alone like that?
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid—
A clack of heels snapped me out of the spiral.
Katherine Cho.
Of course.
She strutted through the office like she owned the place, hair gleaming, blouse perfectly pressed. Her perfume hit before she did, something expensive, probably custom made.
Everyone practically bowed in her direction. I did, too, though mine was more of a tired dip of the head.
"Ms. Katherine," Ms. Lacey practically sang, jumping up. "You look amazing as ever."
"Is Aaron around?" she cut in, voice like glass. "He's not picking up."
My spine went stiff.
The interns fumbled over themselves to answer. "He's in a meeting at the moment ma'am," one of them said, voice a little too eager.
Katherine's perfectly arched brow rose. "Really?"
She said it like she was disappointed in a misbehaving child. "I'll wait for him then."
Without another word, she turned toward his office.
I sank lower in my seat, my stomach churning.
Why does she have his number?
Why does she sound so entitled to him?
And then I answered myself.
We're all coworkers. That's all. It's normal. I'm just overthinking.
Again.
I turned back to my screen and forced myself to breathe. To focus. To work.
By the time my shift ended, I'd managed to finish maybe half of what I was supposed to. Not that anyone noticed.
I grabbed my bag, fingers hovering over my phone. Then, with a breath I didn't believe in, I texted Aaron.
~ Just clocked out. Still good for dinner?
No response.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then a full hour.
I texted again.
~ Let me know if plans changed.
Still nothing.
I waited by the exit like some sad dog waiting for a treat. People left one by one. The cleaning crew arrived. And me? I just sat on that stiff little bench, pretending like I had somewhere to be.
After the third message and still no reply, I finally stood.
Maybe the universe was punishing me.
Maybe I deserved it.
Leaving a bleeding man alone in my apartment like some terrified coward, and for what? A maybe-date with a man who barely had enough time for a proper time alone with his gf?
Pathetic.
I took the train home in silence. The city lights blurred behind the window. Every bump of the rails felt like karma shaking me by the shoulders.
I was halfway to my stop when my phone buzzed.
Aaron.
"Hey," his smooth voice hummed through the line. "I'm sorry. Got caught up in something. You still around?"
Still around.
Like I was some forgotten task.
"I left," I said softly, eyes on my shoes. "Family thing came up. I had to go to my parents'."
A lie.
Another one.
He sighed, but it wasn't disappointed or sad. It was calm. Polished. As always.
"Maybe tomorrow?"
"Sure," I said, but my voice was small.
And then, nothing else. No apology. No explanation. Just that dull silence again.
I didn't cry. I didn't fume. I just got off the train and walked home like I always did.
And when I turned onto my street, the air felt colder. Heavy. Like the night itself was watching me.
What if he's dead?
My keys slipped twice before I unlocked the door. My heart thudded like a drum. And I whispered as I pushed it open...
"Hello? Mr. Stranger? You still breathing?"
The door creaked.
I stepped in and then I froze.
That cold metal touched the side of my head again. Familiar now. I didn't even scream. I just… stopped breathing.
The stranger was still there.
On my couch. Pale. Bleeding. His shirt half gone. My table cluttered with tools and gauze and things I didn't recognize. And another man was beside me, holding the gun to my temple with no hesitation.
I didn't blink. I didn't move.
Because what else does a girl like me do, when the devil you dragged home now has another man to kill you?
All I could think was,
I probably deserve this.