PART I. HER P.O.V

“I think we both need time and space.”

That was it all to make me numb as I watch his retreating back. He didn’t say it but why was the pain feels doubled? I should actually feel less pain but then it’s as if those words that I thought would only break him seems to take its effect on me too as I felt myself break into pieces.

I want to take it back, run after him, and tell him that I am sorry but my feet won’t move. After seeing him out the door, I left a bill on the table and left. I made my way on the night streets into the familiar street where I venture at the end of the day. The moment the silence covered my ears, I broke into tears by the road.

Tears came gushing; emotions gripped my heart blocking my throat taking my breath away for a moment. I am breathless in the most painful way. I didn’t know how long I cried that when sanity kicked in I found myself sitting by the road looking lost. Fresh tears streamed down again. I wiped it before pulling on my feet.

The street was deserted as the cold wind blew away the rustling leaves. The same sound echoed as if the world wants me to feel the pain of being lonely.

“Help me…” a faint whisper made it into my ear despite the loud rustling leaves. On cue, I turned to look at my right to see a wounded guy in white. He reached for me bringing fear to me. I am being paranoid again. What if it’s his scheme to kidnap me? What if he is a murderer or a putting up an act to lure me?

“I won’t hurt you or anything. Just help me please,” he begged as if reading my thoughts. I looked around for someone to help him instead but it’s like the world is playing games on me. My conscience is battling over my logic but in the end the Good Samaritan in me took over. I helped him to my place which was a few meters away.

I opened the door and helped him up on my guest room, the only other room aside from my bedroom. Yes, I do own this simple house. It’s an inheritance and a gift from my grandparents. Since I am on my own, earning a living, my parent would only visit during holidays.

After laying him down, I went down again to get a small basin with lukewarm water, a towel and the medicine kit. He was lying on his side, his back on me when I saw the blood stains on his white shirt at the shoulder part.

“Can you sit with your back on me?” I asked. I peered over, nudging him lightly. He did so although in pain. “Can you take off your shirt so I can clean your wound?” I asked again. This time I helped him take it off since he finds much discomfort and pain in doing so. We shared an awkward silence as I clean his wound. “Your eyes are puffy,” he commented. “How did you know k on me when you had your back on me?” “Because you sound like you cried a river.” I found myself smiling, “Is that a lucky guess?” He let out a soft chuckle. I dressed his wound and handed him another clean shirt before I went down to clean up the things I used on his wound.

I stayed there for a bit before going back up to check on him again and finally get to sleep. He is already tucked under in, sleeping peacefully. I stood by the doorway for a while. A thought suddenly crossed my mind. ‘What on earth happened to me to let a stranger stay in my place?’