Stephanie sat alone at the corner table, her back to the entrance, shoulders curling inwards as if she could make herself invisible. Even from where he stood, he could see the small tremors running through her body.
He crossed the room quietly and placed a gentle hand on her back.
"Hey…"
She jumped, head snapping around, eyes wide with fear. But the moment she saw his face, her expression broke.
"Samuel!" Her voice cracked as she gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing holding her up. Tears streaked her cheeks. "I thought… I thought you weren't coming back. I thought you left me."
Her voice was fragile, her eyes rimmed red. In that moment, she didn't look like a grown woman—she looked like a lost teenager.
Samuel knelt beside her, speaking softly. "I told you I'd come back. Why would you think I'd leave?"
She blinked quickly, struggling for words, but nothing came. Another tear slipped down her cheek.
"I haven't even paid for your food yet," he said with a faint smile, trying to cut through the heaviness. "You think I'd let you handle the bill alone after everything you told me?"
Stephanie bit her lip and dropped her gaze. She didn't answer, but she didn't need to.
"Come on," Samuel murmured.
He waved the waiter over, settled the bill, and helped her to her feet. She moved like someone half-asleep, her mind still weighed down. Outside, the night air was cooler, but it didn't seem to lift her mood.
They walked in silence. The city whispered around them—distant horns, the soft whoosh of passing cars, the occasional bark of a dog. Stephanie kept her head low. Samuel didn't push her to speak.
After a few minutes, he glanced her way.
"My friend and I share a place," he said gently. "His name's Simon. We've known each other for years. He's like a brother."
Her eyes flicked toward him. "Is… is your girlfriend there too?"
He blinked, surprised. "I don't have a girlfriend. Why?"
She gave a small, embarrassed smile. "I just… don't want to be beaten up. I'm saying my mind."
He chuckled. "Relax. No one's coming to beat you. Promise."
A few more blocks brought them to a modest, clean apartment building. He led her up two flights of stairs and unlocked the door.
The inside was neat but warm. Soft instrumental music floated from a Bluetooth speaker. A couch, a flat-screen TV, and a compact dining table gave the space a lived-in comfort.
"Make yourself at home," Samuel said, turning on the lights. "Bathroom's down the hall, on the left."
Stephanie lingered near the door, scanning the room cautiously before stepping inside.
"Thank you… really."
He opened the fridge. "Something to drink?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."
She slipped into the bathroom while he stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. What was he doing? He barely knew her. She could be anyone. But the way she'd talked about rejection, about being alone, about the child she was carrying—it had lodged itself in his mind. He couldn't just leave her to fend for herself.
The sound of running water reached him a moment later.
When Stephanie emerged, her hair was damp, and she wore one of his oversized T-shirts. He nodded toward the bedroom.
"Take the bed. I'll crash on the couch."
She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again. "Good night."
"Good night."
Within minutes, she was asleep.
---
7:00 a.m. – The Next Morning
Sunlight filtered through the blinds. Samuel stretched on the couch while Simon snored softly across the room. Stephanie was already awake, lying on her side and watching the light creep across the wall.
"I hope you slept well," Samuel said.
She turned her head, smiling faintly. "I did. Thank you. Good morning."
"Morning."
Simon sat up, rubbing his eyes. His gaze landed on Stephanie, and she quickly stood.
"Good morning, sir."
He gave a lazy nod. "Morning. You sleep okay?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Without another word, Simon wandered into the bathroom. A few moments later, Stephanie spoke hesitantly.
"Can I have a cup of water?"
"Cold or hot?" Samuel asked.
"Hot… if it's not trouble."
"I got you," he said, moving to the kitchen. "I'll make it warm."
The kettle began to whistle. Simon reappeared, leaning against the wall.
"So… what's the plan?" he asked bluntly.
Stephanie froze. "I… I don't know yet."
"You should go home," Simon said flatly. "We've got work this morning. You can't just stay here forever."
Samuel shot him a warning look. "Simon…"
Stephanie forced a polite smile. "Okay. Thank you."
Samuel returned with a steaming mug of chocolate tea. "Here. Sweet and hot."
Simon raised a brow. "No tea for me?"
Samuel ignored him and headed back to the kitchen. Simon followed, voice low.
"We're not a shelter, man. We can't just take in every girl with a sad story."
"She's not just some girl," Samuel said sharply. "It's one night. That's all."
"You don't even know her."
"I don't need to," Samuel replied, jaw tight. "Just stop making her feel worse."
Simon sighed. "Fine. I'm heading out. Meet me at the shop when you're done playing superhero."
When Simon left, Stephanie came in with her empty cup, her eyes roaming the kitchen.
"Wow… your kitchen is huge."
Samuel smiled. "It's my favorite part of the house."
"Can I help with anything?"
"Not really. Just take another bath, get dressed, and we'll head out soon."
She laughed softly. "Okay."
Samuel watched her walk down the hallway, realizing something. She wasn't just trying to be polite—she was trying to feel useful, to have a place.
And for now, maybe that was enough.