Sweet Hatred
Chapter 195: Stranger

Chapter 195: Stranger

I blinked, looking down at my legs. I was halfway into the sea. The waves were stronger here. Cold. Constant.

"I..." I swallowed. My throat burned like I hadn’t spoken in hours. "I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to..."

"You could’ve been pulled under," he said, softer now, his grip loosening but not falling away completely. "Are you alone?"

I nodded.

And maybe I should’ve lied. Should’ve said I was waiting for someone. That I was fine. But all I could do was nod again, my lower lip trembling even though I begged it not to.

The stranger didn’t ask anything else. He just gently pulled me back toward shore, his palm warm even through my soaked sleeves.

And when we reached the sand, and I collapsed to my knees, tired, frozen, lost, he didn’t ask me to explain.

He just stood there beside me.

Like a silent witness to my unraveling.

We stayed like that for a while.

Just... there. Letting the sea keep us company. Letting silence do the talking.

It should’ve felt awkward, but it didn’t. Maybe because I was too tired to care. Maybe because he didn’t demand anything from me. He just stood there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, like some shadowy angel who came too late.

I finally broke the silence first, voice hoarse as I shifted to sit properly. "I’m sorry for making you worry. I wasn’t... I didn’t mean to—" I let out a shaky breath. "I wasn’t going to do what you thought. I was just... absent-minded."

He clicked his tongue, collapsing on the sand beside me, still not looking at me. "Doesn’t matter," he muttered. "It was still stupid. Dangerous. The waves out there don’t care how absent-minded you are."

His tone was sharp. Nagging, even. I blinked at him, surprised.

He sighed, like I was a kid who almost ruined Christmas. "I didn’t want my perfect night to be ruined by some girl walking into the sea like some sad, wet poem."

That caught me off guard.

I turned to look at him fully, ready to argue, to bark something back, until I really looked at him.

And something about him felt... familiar. Underneath that mask...

The way he held himself. The way his voice lingered at the edges of humor but didn’t quite touch it. That silver hair poking out from under the cap. That mask. Those damn eyes.

I stared.

He noticed.

"Stop gawking," he muttered without looking at me. "I know I’m hot. I’d gawk too. But you’re making me uncomfortable."

I blinked. "What the hell—?"

Who was this man?

But before I could find the right words to put him in his place, he tilted his head toward the waves. "The sea’s beautiful at night, isn’t it?"

I followed his gaze.

The water shimmered like spilled ink beneath the moonlight, silver and black and endless. It crashed softly, again and again, like it didn’t know how to stop just like how I didn’t know how to stop self destructing.

"It is," I whispered, surprised that I meant it.

And then he added, low and smug, "And to think you almost ruined it for me."

My mouth fell open. "Fine, fine," I muttered, pulling my knees to my chest. "I get it. I was careless. God."

I added something under my breath, annoying bastard, but I wasn’t even sure I meant it.

He had saved me, after all.

Another stretch of silence passed between us before I felt his gaze shift, sharp and sudden, like he was peeling me open without touching me.

"Was it a boyfriend?" he asked.

I blinked, thrown. "What?"

He repeated the question, more direct this time. "Did your boyfriend leave you? Is that why you wanted to kill yourself?"

"I didn’t want to kill myself," I snapped, whipping my head toward him. "I already told you, I was just lost in my mind."

He raised a brow, unapologetic. "Right. That’s exactly what a suicidal person would say."

"God, you really don’t listen, do you?" I growled, teeth clenched. "You’re so—"

Buzz.

My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.

I paused. The name lit up on the screen like it was trying to burn its way into my skin.

Kael.

My throat closed up.

I stared at the phone. Let it buzz again. And again.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t know what I would even say if I picked up. I didn’t know what he wanted to say. I mean I had called first but still... I didn’t know if I wanted to hear him. Not now. Not when I felt like I was barely stitched together.

The buzzing stopped.

The man beside me glanced at the phone, then back at me. "You gonna pick that up?"

"No," I finally muttered, silencing the call and tucking my phone away like it burned.

He looked at me. That unreadable stare again. "Why?"

I blinked. "Why what?"

"Was it your boyfriend?" he asked again.

I scoffed, shifting in the sand. "Tch. No. It’s not that. I don’t have a boyfriend."

He raised an eyebrow, his whole body shifting slightly as if to size me up. "Really."

I frowned. "What?"

"You’re serious? About not having one?" He paused, then tilted his head. "Or is it a girlfriend?"

I squinted at him. "No. Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared again. Like he was trying to solve me, piece by piece.

Then he looked away. "Nothing."

The sea hissed as it crawled up the shore, brushing my feet like it was trying to pull me back in.

"Is it financial debt, then?" he asked after a moment. Voice casual. Like we were talking about the weather.

I blinked. "What?"

"Just trying to understand what made you look like you were about to walk into the afterlife."

I narrowed my eyes, half-annoyed, half-bewildered. "No."

God. Who was this guy?

Some lost stray of a man dressed in all black, casually asking if I was financially drowning while looking like he moonlighted as a rockstar with a criminal record. I should’ve been more creeped out. But I was too tired to be scared.

I wrapped my arms around myself, the wind picking up as my clothes clung damp and cold to my skin. "I should head back," I said quietly, standing up and brushing the sand off the back of my pants. "Thanks, I guess. For pulling me out."

He didn’t respond.

I turned and started walking away, the sound of waves growing distant behind me. But before I could make it too far, I heard him move too, his footsteps crunching the sand, catching up.

I turned, eyeing him suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

He gave me the most nonchalant look I’d ever seen.

"Relax," he said. "Don’t flatter yourself. I’m leaving too."

And just like that, he brushed past me, walking ahead without a second glance.

I stood there, watching the back of him. The way the leather of his jacket glinted beneath the moonlight. The slight sway in his stride. That glint of silver hair beneath his cap.

Weird man.

Weirder night.

I waited until he disappeared into the parking lot before slowly heading back toward the road. My chest still felt heavy. But maybe a little lighter than before.

I stood by the edge of the road, scrolling mindlessly through my phone as I waited for a cab. The air was colder now, biting, the quiet stillness of the night louder than I liked.

Them...

Vroom!

A low engine rumbled through the stillness.

I looked up.

A sleek, black motorcycle rolled to a slow stop right in front of me.

I stopped breathing.

The helmeted rider killed the engine with one gloved hand, then tilted their head just slightly in my direction.

And even before he pulled the visor up, I already knew.

It was him.

The moment he lifted the visor, I actually exhaled. Loudly. Dramatically. Like the universe was playing some long-running joke on me.

"You can’t be serious," I muttered, my eyes narrowing as I crossed my arms.

I could almost see the grin stretched across his face but the mad covered it. Of course he did.

"You just looked so sad," he said, voice light. "All by yourself. Waiting for a cab that’s probably never going to come since, y’know... it’s almost one in the damn morning."

I stared at him, unimpressed. "And what? You thought you’d swoop in like some motorcycle knight in shining leather?"

"Exactly." His eyes gleamed. "Nice of you to notice."

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost gave me a headache. "It’s none of your business."

I turned on my heel, refusing to give him another second of attention, and began walking toward the dim road. My phone had no signal. My battery was at six percent. And the street was so quiet it felt like the world had gone to sleep without me.

Behind me, the motorcycle’s engine revved softly and began rolling forward—slow and obnoxiously in sync with my steps.

"You should be grateful, you know," he called out. "I’m being incredibly generous here. Most people would pay to experience this."

"Experience what?" I snapped without turning. "The agony of your voice?"

He let out a dramatic sigh. "No appreciation for rare opportunities. Shame."

"Well, I don’t want it," I bit out.

"But my conscience won’t let me sleep tonight if I just ride off," he said. "What if you try again?"

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