CHAPTER 4
922 Words
The next day, Clara was curled up on her living room couch, sketchpad resting on her lap, when a sudden knock on the door broke her focus.
She blinked, slightly annoyed, and slowly rose to her feet. Her bare soles padded across the floor as she walked toward the door. With one hand on the knob, she opened it carefully…
There was no one.
Only a large box, perfectly wrapped in white ribbon, sitting quietly at her doorstep. On top of it — a small handwritten note.
“Sorry, Mrs. Clara. —By, Stranger.”
A small smile touched her lips despite herself.
She bent down, picked it up, and brought it inside. With a soft tug, she untied the ribbon and opened the lid — only to be stunned into stillness.
Inside was a gorgeous bouquet of white daisies, wrapped neatly in shimmering gold paper. The petals glowed against her skin as she leaned in to admire them.
They were her favorite.
Nestled beneath the bouquet were small boxes of dark chocolates — all the exact ones she adored — and sleek Dior makeup products she’d only admired from afar. Foundations, lipsticks, eyeshadow palettes… hand-picked with frightening precision.
Another note was tucked inside.
“I want you to accept this as an apology. Also, I’ve included a movie ticket. Consider it a gift. —By, Stranger.”
Clara blinked at the note, heart fluttering in confused curiosity.
He remembered the cold brew.
Now the chocolates?
She stared at the movie ticket in silence, unsure of what to feel — flattered, suspicious… intrigued?
---
That night, she stood in front of her mirror — breath caught somewhere between excitement and caution.
She wore a red velvet jeweled dress that hugged her curves like it was stitched just for her. It shimmered subtly under the soft lights, the slit brushing her thigh as she moved. Her necklace sat perfectly around her neck, delicate yet bold — like her.
When she stepped out, the city wind kissed her skin, and the streetlights danced along the edge of her dress’s chain.
She arrived at the cinema hall just a few minutes early, scanning the area. The glow of neon lights reflected in her eyes as she looked around.
Then…
He stepped out of the shadows.
Dominic.
It was the first time she saw him clearly. No smoke, no smirk from a corner. Just him.
A crisp white shirt, neatly tucked into black pants. His sleeves were rolled, veins visible along his arms. Confident. Effortless. Dangerous in a way silk could never soften.
Clara’s breath caught.
He walked toward her, slow and sure.
And for the first time…
She didn’t look away.
His shoes clicked lightly against the pavement as Dominic approached her. The air between them buzzed with a strange, charged silence. Clara's fingers curled around the movie ticket, her heart thudding in her chest.
“You came,” he said, voice low, deep, and oddly gentle.
Clara raised an eyebrow, arms crossed against her chest. “You sent flowers, chocolates, Dior, and a ticket. It would’ve been rude not to.”
A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips. “I don’t mind rude.”
She tilted her head, sharp eyes scanning him. “And I don’t appreciate strangers knowing where I live.”
He didn’t flinch. “I’m not a stranger, Clara.”
Her name on his tongue made her pulse stutter. She hated it.
“What do you want?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
His smirk faded. “Just a moment of your time.”
“For what?” Her voice stayed strong, but something in her chest pulled tight.
He didn't answer. Instead, he extended a hand toward the cinema entrance. “Let’s not keep the movie waiting.”
She didn’t take his hand. But she walked beside him.
Inside the theatre, the lights dimmed as the screen lit up. Clara folded her arms and leaned back in her seat, doing everything she could to ignore the man beside her. But she could feel the weight of his presence, like heat radiating from fire you couldn’t touch.
Halfway through the film, she turned slightly. “Why me?”
Dominic didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on the screen. “Because you don’t flinch.”
“I don’t play games.”
He finally glanced at her, the flickering light of the film casting shadows on his chiseled jaw. “Neither do I.”
There was a long pause. Then, she looked away again, lips tight.
When the movie ended, Clara stood up before he could say anything. She walked out of the hall quickly, heart racing.
But as soon as she stepped outside, there he was again — leaning against the entrance wall like he’d always been there.
“You’re not used to being followed,” he said quietly, as she turned to leave.
“No,” she replied, keeping her gaze ahead.
“Get used to it.”
Her heels stopped.
And slowly, very slowly, she turned to him. Her voice was calm, cool, almost soft. “Don’t send me gifts again.”
He smiled darkly. “What if I do?”
“I won’t accept them.”
And just like that, she turned and walked away—her dress swaying behind her, the night swallowing her whole.
Dominic stood there, watching.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
Unbothered.
But inside…
Something stirred.
Something dangerous.
Something unfamiliar.
And for the first time in a long, long while—
He wanted to chase.
- Writer
