Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The night air is cool against your skin as you stand outside the restaurant, the city lights casting a soft glow over the bustling streets. You glance at your phone, seeing the latest text from Chan apologizing for the delay—traffic, as always, is holding him up. You don't mind waiting, though. The anticipation of seeing him again has you smiling to yourself, imagining the way his face will light up when he finally arrives.
As you wait, you take in the sights around you: couples walking hand in hand, groups of friends laughing as they pass by, the distant hum of cars and city life blending into a comforting background noise. But your peace is soon interrupted by a voice, slurred and too close for comfort.
"Hey, beautiful," a man's voice calls out, rough around the edges. You turn your head slightly to see a figure stumbling toward you, the smell of alcohol wafting off him even before he gets close. His clothes are wrinkled, his eyes glassy, and the grin on his face makes your stomach churn.
You step back instinctively, keeping your distance. "I'm waiting for someone," you say firmly, hoping that will be enough to deter him.
But it's not. He lingers, his eyes roaming over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. "Why wait for him when you've got me right here? C'mon, let me keep you company."
"I said, I'm waiting for someone," you repeat, more forcefully this time, your heart beginning to race. You glance around, but the people passing by seem oblivious, caught up in their own conversations and lives.
The man doesn't take the hint. He steps closer, his breath foul as he slurs, "Don't be like that, sweetheart. Just a little fun, yeah?"
Your hand edges toward your bag, fingers brushing against the pepper spray you keep for situations like this. You've had enough of his persistence. "Back off," you snap, voice shaking with anger and fear. "I'm not interested. Leave me alone."
But instead of backing off, he reaches out, grabbing your wrist before you can pull out the pepper spray. Panic surges through you, your breath catching in your throat as you struggle against his grip. His hand is rough, his touch making your skin crawl, and you're about to scream when, suddenly, you hear a voice—familiar, strong, and filled with fury.
"Get your hands off her."
Before you can fully process what's happening, the man is yanked away from you, a blur of movement as someone steps between you and your harasser. It's Chan. His expression is a mix of anger and protectiveness, his eyes dark as he glares at the man who dared to touch you.
"What the hell—" the man starts, but he doesn't get to finish his sentence. Chan's fist connects with his face in a swift, powerful punch, sending him stumbling backward. The drunk man yelps in pain, clutching his face as he stumbles away, finally realizing he's messed with the wrong person.
"Get lost," Chan growls, his voice low and dangerous, the kind that leaves no room for argument. The man doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet, casting one last fearful glance at Chan before taking off down the street, disappearing into the night.
For a moment, everything is still. The adrenaline still courses through you, your heart pounding as you stare at Chan, who's still watching the man retreat. Then he turns to you, his expression softening in an instant, concern replacing the anger that was there just seconds ago.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle now as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, as if reassuring himself that you're unharmed.
You nod, though your voice is shaky when you speak. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you." The reality of what just happened starts to sink in, and you feel the tremors in your hands, the adrenaline ebbing away to leave a raw edge of fear.
Chan notices, his eyes softening even more. "Hey, it's alright," he murmurs, pulling you into a tight embrace. His arms around you are strong, steady, a safe harbor after the storm of panic. You can feel the tension in his body, the lingering anger on your behalf, but all you can focus on is the comfort of being close to him.
You bury your face in his chest, taking in the familiar scent of him, letting it ground you. "I didn't know what to do," you admit, your voice muffled against his shirt.
"You did everything right," he reassures you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I'm just glad I got here in time."
You pull back slightly, looking up at him, seeing the worry etched into his features. "What if you hadn't?"
His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the fierce protectiveness in his gaze takes your breath away. "But I did," he says firmly, his hand lifting to gently cup your face. "And I'll always be here when you need me. You're safe with me, always."
You lean into his touch, feeling the truth in his words. The fear that had gripped you moments ago slowly dissipates, replaced by a warmth that comes from knowing Chan is by your side, ready to protect you at all costs.
"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that's been growing between you for a while now.
His thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always have your back."
As the night air surrounds you, the city lights twinkling above, you realize that you've never felt safer than you do right now, in Chan's arms. And as you finally head into the restaurant together, his arm securely around your shoulders, you know that this night, despite its rocky start, has only brought you closer.
