sheltered by fate

I couldn't go home. The thought of stepping through that door, seeing those familiar walls that felt like they were closing in on me—it was unbearable. My chest felt tight, my breath shallow as I waved down a cab. I didn't even have a destination in mind. "Just drive," I mumbled, my voice barely audible, and the driver gave me a concerned glance before nodding.

The world outside the window blurred as the cab sped away. My mind was a whirlwind of broken thoughts and painful memories. I finally asked the driver to stop when we reached a park on the outskirts of town. It was quiet, deserted, just what I needed.

I stepped out, my feet dragging as I made my way toward the lone swing set in the middle of the field. It creaked as I sat down, the sound cutting through the silence like a sigh. I clutched the chains on either side of me and let the tears fall. It wasn't the kind of sobbing you could hide; it was the kind that shook your whole body, the kind that made you feel like you were breaking apart.

Then the drizzle started. Tiny, cold droplets kissed my skin, blending with my tears as they slid down my cheeks. I tilted my face up to the sky, and it felt like the heavens were crying with me, sharing my grief. It wasn't a heavy rain, just persistent enough to soak the earth, the air, and me.

I could see the drops hit the ground, forming tiny ripples in the puddles that gathered around me. But strangely, I didn't feel them anymore. My body felt too heavy, too drained to notice anything beyond the ache in my heart.

That's when I heard it—a voice. Low and gentle, it came from behind me. "You shouldn't be out here like this."

Before I could process it, something was pressed into my hand. My fingers instinctively curled around the cool, metal handle of an umbrella. I felt the rain stop hitting me directly, the patter shifting to the fabric above.

I wanted to look up, to see who it was, but my vision swam. I was too weak, too tired. The last thing I remembered was the warmth of his hand brushing against mine as he adjusted the umbrella, and then... darkness.

My eyelids flickered open, but the weight of sleep clung to them, making it hard to focus. A dull ache throbbed at the back of my head, and the faint scent of something unfamiliar—like clean linen and cedar—filled the air.

I groaned softly, stretching my arm out instinctively, searching for the familiar softness of my pillow. Instead, my fingers brushed against something smooth and firm. My brow furrowed, but my half-asleep mind didn't question it. I shifted slightly, intending to rest my head there, but a second thought nagged at me.

My hand trailed downward, fingers tracing over warm skin—definitely not a pillow. The texture was taut, undeniably human. Muscles.

My breath caught, and in a sudden jolt of clarity, I yanked my hand back like I'd touched fire. Panic flared in my chest, and before I could stop myself, a scream erupted from my lips. "Oh my God!"

I bolted upright, my heart pounding as I scrambled backward. My legs tangled in the bedsheet, and I ended up taking it with me as I half-stumbled, half-fell off the bed.

Despite knowing exactly what—or rather who—it was, I couldn't stop myself from turning around. Just a quick glance, I told myself. Just to confirm.

Peeking over my shoulder, I saw him still lying there, casually propped up on one elbow, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just scared the life out of me. Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him.

He caught it effortlessly, yawning like I hadn't just tried to attack him. Then he smiled—a slow, lazy grin that was both infuriating and... unfairly charming.

"I see you're fully recovered now that you're jumping around," he said, his voice rich and tinged with amusement.

My eyebrows twisted into a sharp glare, though my chest was still heaving. Questions bubbled up inside me, but before I could choose one to throw at him, he spoke again.

"Don't worry," he said, his tone softening. "You're safe."

Safe. That word should've reassured me, but all I could focus on was how he was still sitting there, completely unbothered and...bare-chested.

"Cover up properly, you pervert, will you?" I snapped, throwing my eyes away as I tossed the bedsheet back onto the bed like some makeshift shield.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand. And that's when I got a full view.

He was tall, his presence almost overwhelming in the small room. His dark, curly hair was damp and slightly tousled, as if he'd just run his hand through it—which, of course, he did. His blue eyes were sharp, almost electric, and his sharp jawline looked like it had been sculpted by some divine hand.

My gaze dropped lower before I could stop myself. Broad shoulders. A toned chest. And his throat...I swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in my own.

He was...handsome. No, dangerously handsome. The kind of handsome that made your brain stop working for a moment, leaving you standing there like an idiot.

He's perfect. His features are rated 1000% over 100%. Crazy, right?

I quickly turned my head, heat rising to my cheeks. "You—" I started, but the words caught in my throat.

He smirked, clearly catching my reaction. "Do you always stare at strangers like that, or am I special?"

I groaned, pressing a hand to my temple. This was going to be a long morning.

"And for the record," he added, leaning against the wall casually, "you're the one who threw yourself onto my bed, so maybe I should be calling you the pervert."

My jaw dropped. "What?! I didn't— I mean, I didn't choose to—"

He chuckled, cutting me off. "Relax. I'm kidding. Mostly."

Before I could find a proper comeback, there was a loud grumble. It wasn't his laugh this time—it was my stomach. Mortified, I froze as he raised an eyebrow, clearly biting back another grin.

"Hungry?" he asked, already heading toward what I assumed was the kitchen area.

I stared after him, completely flustered. But I had to admit, part of me was curious. Who was he, and why had he gone out of his way to help me