A Christmas wish

chapter 4

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself like I could somehow summon courage from it. My hair was a mess, my collar tight, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I hated how I looked. I hated even being here. But after what Elena had told me—after the way her voice trembled when she took my hand and said I deserved something good—I couldn’t back out. Not now. Not without disappointing her, not without letting fear win again.

The evening air cut through my jacket as soon as I stepped outside. Sharp. Cold. I took a shaky breath and slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel too tightly. One date. That’s all Elena said it would be. Harmless. Simple. But I didn’t feel any of that. My stomach churned, my chest heavy, as I pulled onto the quiet streets.

By the time the bar appeared, glowing softly ahead, I wondered if I could just turn around. But Elena’s words pushed me forward. I stepped into the warm light.

It smelled like polished wood and citrus. The soft hum of conversation made me feel… exposed. Invisible. Seen, yet unnoticed. And there—sitting in the corner—was Marcus. Tall, dark hair, expensive jacket. The kind of guy who looked like he expected to be noticed.

“You must be Liam,” he said, standing and offering his hand.

I shook it, smiling nervously. “Yeah. Hi.”

He grinned, all teeth and confidence. “Glad you made it. Want a drink?”

“Water’s fine,” I muttered.

He chuckled, sliding into the booth. “Straightforward. I like that.”

He talked. A lot. About his job, gym routine, ex-girlfriend, weekend trips, the guys he liked for fun. I nodded, smiled when appropriate, sipped my water to keep from shaking. Occasionally, I tried to steer the conversation toward me, but it felt like I wasn’t even there.

Then he leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Let’s get out of here. Too loud. We should go somewhere quieter.”

I hesitated. “Okay… sure. Where?”

“Somewhere private. My car. Or yours.”

My stomach twisted. “Marcus, I don’t—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, smiling too wide. “Nothing serious. Just… talking.”

I should’ve said no. My pride, my fear of being rude, and Elena’s push tangled in my chest. I nodded weakly. “Fine.”

Outside, the night hit me like a wall. The lot was dim, streetlights throwing long shadows. Marcus moved close, almost too close.

“Over here,” he said, tugging my wrist.

I froze. “Hey, wait—”

Too late. He pressed me against the side of a car. His grip was tight; his other hand creeping toward my waist.

“Relax,” he murmured.

“No! Marcus, stop!” Panic clawed my chest. I shoved him, but he caught me, yanking me back against the cold metal.

“You’re tense,” he said, grinning. “Cute, though. Don’t fight me.”

I twisted, desperate. “I said stop!” My voice cracked. My heart hammered.

He shoved me again—harder. Pain flared in my shoulder. “Marcus! I mean it!”

Leaning closer, face inches from mine: “Relax,” he said again. “You’re making this weird.”

I flinched, backing up, but he shoved me onto the asphalt. Knees scraped, cold biting into skin. “Get off me!” I shouted, scrambling.

Then.

“He said stop.”

The voice cut through the night. Sharp. Controlled. Lethal. Marcus froze.

I turned. A tall figure stepped from the shadows. Broad shoulders, dark coat, purposeful stride. Calm. Solid. Watching Marcus like a predator ready to strike.

“Let him go,” the man said, low and steady.

Marcus scoffed. “Mind your business.”

“I said, let him go.”

Marcus lunged. The man’s hand shot out, grabbed his arm, spun him against a nearby hood. Not cruelly—just enough. “Enough. You’re done.”

Marcus cursed, storming off into the dark.

I collapsed to the ground, trembling, heart racing. The stranger crouched slightly, calm, steady. Not crowding me. Just… there.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, barely speaking. “I… I think so.”

“You shouldn’t have been alone with him,” he said.

“I didn’t know…” My voice caught. “I thought it was… just a date.”

“That wasn’t a date,” he murmured. “Someone looking for an easy target.”

I swallowed hard. “Why… why did you help me?”

A flicker of hesitation. “Because someone should.”

Speechless, I felt my chest ache. There was something about him—something calm, solid, protective—that drained some of the tension and fear out of me.

Cold air rushed past, but I felt warmth where his jacket brushed my shoulders. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“You don’t need to. Go home .”

There was a weight behind those words. Like he meant more than protection. Like he already knew me in a way that scared me.

Then he turned, stride steady, disappearing into the shadows.

I stood there, alone, cold nipping at my skin, jacket draped over my shoulders. Heart racing in a strange way. For the first time that night, I didn’t feel afraid.

And somehow… I knew I’d see him again.