Metallic hand.

The next morning, the sun was out, but Harry felt like a cloud was following him.

As he stepped through the college gates, his eyes scanned the crowd instinctively searching. Looking past the chatter and laughter of his classmates, his gaze moved toward the corridor, the courtyard, and the benches near the cafeteria.

But Anna wasn't there.

He felt a strange heaviness in his chest. Not panic, but… absence. A void.

Why wasn't she here?

He leaned against a pillar near the entrance, trying not to look concerned. But his eyes betrayed him they searched every face that passed by. His mind was restless, thinking about last night. The laughter. The dance. The kiss.

And then, the way he had left her apartment without a word.

Had he messed everything up?

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from behind him.

"Hi, Harry."

He turned around so fast, it surprised even himself.

There she was Anna. Dressed in a soft peach hoodie, hair tied up in a ponytail, her eyes filled with that same gentle spark he had come to recognize. She looked like she hadn't missed a beat, walking toward him like nothing happened.

Harry stood stunned. He had expected anger. Maybe silence. At the very least, a cold shoulder.

But she smiled… and stood close, as if nothing had changed.

"You're late," she teased lightly, brushing past him and walking toward the class building.

Harry followed her, a little slower, still trying to wrap his head around her reaction.

"Weren't you… mad?" he asked finally, catching up.

"Why would I be?" she replied with a raised brow, but she clearly knew what he meant.

He wanted to say sorry. He wanted to explain why he had walked out last night. That he got overwhelmed. That he didn't know how to deal with how right it had felt to be in that moment. That the kiss had terrified him, not because it was bad but because it felt too good.

But he couldn't say any of that.

Because Harry had built an image around himself stoic, strong, untouchable. A fighter. Not a boy fumbling with emotions.

Instead, he looked ahead and said coolly, "I liked last night. It was fun. I… haven't enjoyed like that in a long time."

Anna smiled softly. There was warmth in her eyes, a flicker of something unspoken.

"Me too," she said. "I'm glad you came."

There was a silence between them not awkward, not heavy. Just filled with things neither of them were ready to say.

As they walked side by side, a few students passed them, glancing curiously. It wasn't usual to see Harry like this with someone, smiling softly, walking close to a girl.

Anna broke the silence with a playful smirk. "So… about that kiss."

Harry froze for half a second, his hand brushing against his jeans pocket.

He didn't respond directly. Just turned his face slightly and gave a small smile.

It wasn't a yes. It wasn't a no. But Anna understood. That smile said everything.

After class, as they exited the building, the afternoon sun cast a soft glow on the campus. The two walked slowly, shoulders brushing occasionally.

"Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?" Anna asked casually, looking ahead.

Harry didn't answer right away. His usual instinct would be to say no, to pull back, to guard his walls.

But today was different.

"If I finish my work," he said, "I might call you."

Anna laughed. "That's not a yes, but I'll take it."

They reached the intersection where their paths usually split. Harry always walked a little farther down the street, and Anna turned right toward her apartment.

"Text me if you're free," she said, slowing down.

He nodded. "Okay."

And just before she turned, he said, "Anna."

She paused, looking back.

"I didn't walk away because of you. I walked away because of me."

Anna didn't say anything. She just smiled again that same smile from the morning and nodded.

"I know," she said, then turned and walked toward her apartment.

As Harry walked home, he noticed how light he felt. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't haunted by his past or burdened by guilt. His thoughts weren't about fighting or survival.

They were about her.

Her laugh. Her stubbornness. Her insistence on being around him. Her dance moves. Her willingness to pull him out of his shadows.

He reached his house, unlocked the door, and walked in. His mom was sitting on the couch, watching an old cooking show. She looked at him and smiled.

"Hey, college went okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied softly. "It was… good."

He went up to his room, changed into a simple T-shirt, and threw himself on the bed. He start thinking

Maybe he didn't want to be alone anymore.

Maybe this… this feeling was worth the risk.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time she asked him for dinner, he'd say yes properly.

With words. Not just a smile.

The evening air was cool, tinged with the soft scent of city dust and jasmine from a nearby tree. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, nervously staring at his phone. His heart was oddly racing—not because of danger, but because of something scarier: feelings.

He finally gathered the courage and typed:

Harry: "Hi Anna, I finished all my work. I'm free now. Can we go for dinner?"

A few seconds passed. Then came the message alert chime.

Anna: "Oh? So your 'important work' is finally done?"

Harry chuckled.

Harry: "Yes, ma'am. All clear."

Anna: "Well then, pick me up at 9. Don't be late, superhero."

Harry: "Wouldn't dare."

He threw the phone onto the bed with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Tonight was supposed to be normal maybe even romantic. No police, no mystery formulas, no fights. Just a simple dinner.

But life had other plans.

At 8:45 PM, Harry stepped out of his house, dressed in clean jeans and a black button-down shirt. Not too casual, not too formal. He booked a cab to Anna's apartment and waited at the curb. The street lamp above flickered occasionally, throwing brief shadows across the sidewalk.

As he checked his phone for the cab's ETA, something slammed into his back hard.

Harry flew forward, crashing onto the concrete. His phone skidded away, the screen cracked.

Dazed, he tried to push himself up. But the world spun around him in a nauseating blur. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus—and that's when he saw him.

A figure stepped into view from the shadows. Tall. Wearing a long, ragged coat that brushed the ground. His face was hidden beneath a wide hood, but what caught Harry's attention was the man's right hand metallic, sharp, glowing faintly blue along the veins. The steel shimmered under the lamplight like something not of this world.

The stranger's voice was cold and mechanical, like a broken speaker trying to speak English.

"You... stole something that was never meant for you."

Harry's heartbeat spiked. His eyes widened as he realized the formula. The one the dying scientist had injected into his bloodstream.

"I didn't steal anything!" Harry gasped, trying to rise.

The man didn't answer. With a flick of his metal hand, he grabbed Harry by the throat, lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing, and slammed him into the alley wall.

"You will pay with your blood."

Harry gasped, choking. The cold of the metal fingers dug into his skin. But somewhere inside, something clicked. The same strength that had saved him from the speeding bike.

He pushed off the wall with his feet, breaking the grip for a second. Landing hard on his knees, he coughed and growled, "I don't want to fight. Just leave me alone."

But the steel-handed stranger wasn't listening. He charged forward, eyes burning in the shadow of the hood.

Harry threw a punch. It connected sort of. The man caught it effortlessly in his metal hand and twisted Harry's wrist. Pain shot up Harry's arm like lightning. With a grunt, the man hurled him across the street again.

Harry groaned, lying on the pavement, his shirt torn and blood dripping from his lip. But this time, He clenched his fists.

"I've got a date tonight," Harry muttered with a painful smirk as he stood up. "So if you're here to kill me, come back tomorrow."

The steel man roared and lunged.

But Harry was ready.

He dodged at the last second, spun on his heel, and delivered a powerful uppercut into the man's ribs. The impact sent the attacker flying several feet into the air before crashing into a parked trash bin with a loud metallic bang.

For a moment, the alley went still.

Then the cab pulled up beside Harry with a beep.

He glanced at the unconscious man. His breathing was still steady, but he was out cold for now.

Harry didn't waste time. He opened the cab door, slid in, and muttered to the driver, "Drive. Now."

The driver, startled but silent, hit the gas.

As the car sped away, Harry looked out the window. His heart was pounding.

By the time he reached Anna's building, he had wiped the blood off his lip and straightened his shirt as best he could. His mind raced with questions. Who was that man? How did he know about the formula? And why did Harry feel like this was just the beginning?

But when he saw Anna waiting outside in a red dress, smiling softly, everything else disappeared.

He stepped out of the cab, waved, and walked up to her.

"Sorry I'm late."

Anna tilted her head. "I figured you'd show up with some excuse. What's today's reason? Ninja attack?"

Harry smirked. "Something like that."

She laughed and linked her arm with his. "Let's go. I'm starving."

As they walked toward the restaurant, Harry glanced back half-expecting to see the steel stranger lurking in the shadows.

But there was nothing.

Still, deep inside, Harry knew... this wasn't over. That man would return. And next time, he wouldn't be so easy to escape.

But for tonight... just for tonight... he wanted to forget.

And so, under the city lights and the soft hum of traffic, Harry walked beside Anna, the chaos buried temporarily beneath laughter, candlelight, and something that felt dangerously close to peace.