THE GUEST

They stood beneath the streetlamp, soaked to the bone, arms still wrapped around each other. The rain had started to slow, thinning to a gentle drizzle, but their clothes clung to them like second skin. Sophie finally stepped back, wiping water from her cheeks—she wasn't sure if it was rain or tears anymore.

James looked down at her, his hair slicked against his forehead, his shirt plastered to his chest. Despite the downpour, he was smiling softly.

"You can't go home like this," Sophie said, her voice low but earnest. "You're completely drenched. You'll catch a cold—or worse."

He chuckled lightly, brushing a strand of wet hair away from her face. "I'll be fine," he said, that teasing glint in his eye returning. "I'm immortal, remember?"

She frowned playfully. "Immortal or not, walking alone at night like this isn't safe. Especially not when you're soaked and exhausted."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

"Stay the night."

His brows lifted slightly.

"You'll have your own room," she added quickly. "And my aunt's already met you. Kind of."

James hesitated, but Sophie's eyes were determined.

He sighed, defeated in the best way. "Alright. If you insist."

They entered the compound quietly. The rain had soaked the path, and their shoes made squelching sounds with every step. Sophie reached the front door and gently pushed it open. The warm glow of the hallway light spilled out to greet them.

To their surprise, Aunt Anne was standing right there, arms folded, leaning against the wall with a sly smile on her face.

"Well, well," she said. "Look who the rain dragged in."

Sophie blushed. "Auntie—"

"You must be James," Anne interrupted, her smile widening. "Sophie has said a lot of things about you."

James looked momentarily surprised but quickly recovered, offering a small, respectful bow of his head. "All good things, I hope."

"All… intriguing things," Anne replied with a wink. "Welcome, James."

"Thank you," he said, laughing softly. "I hope I'm not causing too much trouble, showing up like this."

"Of course not," Anne waved it off. "Any friend of Sophie's is welcome here. Especially if they bring her home in one piece."

Sophie nudged James and beckoned him quietly down the hall. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll sleep."

James followed her through the corridor, past old family photos and hanging coats. She opened the door to the guest room and flipped on the light. It was small but cozy—warm-colored walls, a tidy bed, a small dresser, and a framed picture of Sophie as a baby on the side table.

"It's not a castle," she said, brushing wet hair from her eyes, "but it's dry and warm."

"It's perfect," he said genuinely.

Sophie handed him a towel from the nearby shelf. "Dry off. I'll find something for you to change into. My aunt's late husband was about your size."

"Thanks, Sophie," he said, voice quieter now.

She smiled, then turned to leave.

As she stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her, her heart was still beating a little too fast. The feeling of his arms still lingered on her back. And his words—I was always here—still echoed in her head.

She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

But tonight, she knew he was here.

And that was enough.

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