Ophelia's POV
Ophelia barely slept that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw shadows moving too close, footsteps matching hers, the sound of her own breath breaking as she ran. She woke up before dawn, heart racing, fingers clutching the sheets as if she were still trying to escape.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and harmless. It felt unreal.
She sat up slowly, listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voices. No danger.
Still, her body refused to relax.
A knock came at her door.
"Ophelia?" Vivi's voice was gentle, careful. "Are you awake?"
Ophelia hesitated before answering. "Yeah… I'm up."
Vivi stepped inside with a small smile, carrying a tray. Tea. Toast. Something warm and familiar.
"I thought you might need this," she said softly. "You looked really shaken last night."
Ophelia managed a weak smile. "Thank you."
Vivi sat beside her on the bed, not too close, not too far. The perfect distance.
"I kept thinking about you," she said. "About how brave you were."
Brave.
Ophelia wasn't sure she agreed. She had run. She had panicked. She had been terrified.
"I don't even know why they followed me," Ophelia said quietly. "I was just… walking to my car."
Vivi frowned, shaking her head. "Some people are just evil. Especially at night." She reached out, squeezing Ophelia's hand gently. "I'm just glad you made it home."
Ophelia swallowed. "Me too."
She didn't mention him.
The man with the calm voice. The way the fear had eased the moment he spoke. The way she'd felt strangely safe beside someone she didn't even know.
She told herself it was just shock. Just adrenaline.
Still, when Vivi asked, "Did you see who helped you?" Ophelia shook her head.
"No," she said softly. "It all happened so fast. I heard a fight… and then it was over."
Vivi nodded, her expression sympathetic. "That must have been terrifying."
It was.
But what lingered wasn't just fear, it was the memory of control. Strength. Protection.
Later, alone in the bathroom, Ophelia stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked darker. Older. As if something inside her had shifted overnight.
She touched her collarbone, grounding herself.
You're safe, she told herself again.
But deep down, she knew something had changed.
She didn't know who the man was.
She didn't know why he'd helped her.
And she didn't know why the thought of never seeing him again made her chest ache just a little.
Ophelia spent most of the day in bed.
The adrenaline from the night before had finally worn off, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion that settled deep into her bones. Every time she shifted, a sharp ache shot through her ankle, reminding her of how recklessly she had run.
She lifted the blanket slightly, wincing. The swelling was faint but unmistakable.
Vivi noticed it immediately.
"You're hurt," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't feel it last night," Ophelia admitted. "I think I twisted it when I was running."
Within an hour, a doctor arrived.
He was calm and professional, kneeling beside the bed as he examined her ankle carefully.
"A mild sprain," he said. "Nothing serious, but you need rest."
He wrapped it gently, applied ointment, and handed her medication.
"Take this twice a day. No unnecessary movement. And try to sleep."
Ophelia nodded, relief washing over her.
For the first time since the attack, her body allowed itself to rest.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains as she drifted in and out of sleep, the city outside continuing as if nothing had happened. It was only during the daytime, when the world felt safer, that her heart slowed enough to breathe properly.
By evening, the house grew quiet.
And by night…
That night, long after Vivi had gone to bed and the apartment had fallen silent, Ophelia sat by the window, knees drawn to her chest.
The city lights blinked back at her like they always had, busy, careless, alive.
Her heart still raced when she thought about running. About the footsteps behind her. About how close she had come to something terrible.
And yet…
Her mind kept drifting back to him.
The calm voice.
The steady presence.
The way the fear had eased the moment he spoke.
She didn't know his face clearly. Didn't know his name. Didn't even know why he had helped her.
But she knew one thing.
He had been real.
And the thought of never seeing him again unsettled her more than the danger had.
The restaurant, she thought suddenly.
The place where everything had started.
She exhaled shakily, heart pounding all over again. Going back felt reckless. The memory alone made her chest tighten.
But maybe… just maybe… she could see him again.
Maybe thank him properly.
Maybe learn the name of the man who had saved her.
Ophelia rested her forehead against the glass, torn between fear and curiosity.
She wasn't ready yet.
But she knew she would be soon.
——————————————————————
She didn't know it yet, but the decision to return to that restaurant would change everything, because some saviors don't stay strangers for long.