The walk home was a blur. Mark moved through the deserted streets, his mind replaying the chaotic events of the night. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a throbbing pain in his shoulder and a dull ache in his bruised muscles.

Mark winced as he gingerly pushed open the front door, his eyes scanning the darkened living room for any sign of Lida. Finding none, he exhaled a soft sigh of relief. He tiptoed up the stairs, each step igniting a sharp pain in his wounded shoulder.

The bathroom's harsh light revealed the damage. A jagged gash marred his left shoulder, crimson staining the edges of his once-white T-shirt. Several other scrapes and bruises peppered his arms and legs, souvenirs of the night's chaos.

He carefully removed his shirt, hissing as the fabric tugged at his wound. Methodically, he cleaned the gash with antiseptic, then applied a makeshift bandage from the first aid kit. The other injuries, minor by comparison, stung briefly under the touch of cold water as he tried to scrub away the grime and the residual adrenaline.

The digital clock on the bathroom counter flashed 5:48 AM. He considered trying to get a few hours of sleep before his morning class, but the thought of closing his eyes and facing the inevitable onslaught of nightmares made him shudder.

He shuffled into his bedroom, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. Collapsing onto the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing.

How the hell did things escalate so quickly? He mused. One minute he was training in an abandoned warehouse, the next he was battling a teleporting psychopath.

The image of the woman, bound and helpless, flickered through his mind. He had risked everything to save her, yet he didn’t even know her name.

What was all that about? Why were they kidnapping her?

These questions gnawed at him, but after a few minutes of fruitless pondering, Mark decided to let it go. It’s none of my business.

He couldn’t afford to get tangled up in whatever drama she was involved in.

He'd done his part, saved the girl. It wasn't his problem anymore.

Time slipped by, his thoughts a jumbled mess of adrenaline, fatigue, and a nagging sense of unease. The first rays of dawn crept through the window, painting the room in a soft, golden light that offered no comfort.

"Mark! Breakfast!" Lida's voice echoed up the stairs, pulling him from his restless thoughts.

He dragged himself out of bed and opened his door, leaning against the frame. “I’m not hungry!” he called back. “I’ll grab something at the cafeteria.”

“Alright, but don’t be late for class.”

“Actually,” he said, improvising, “my first class is late today. I’m gonna catch more sleep.”

“Fine.”

He sighed with relief as he shut his bedroom door gently. He knew a face-to-face would make it impossible to hide his bruises. He was a terrible liar, especially to his aunt who could read him like an open book. He wasn't ready to face her questions or see the worry etched on her face.

"Mark!" Lida's voice boomed again. "Are you going to talk to her today?"

"Who?"

"Ria."

"Uhh..Y--Yeah," he stammered, the name sending a jolt through him.

"Good…..Don’t forget.”

Mark settled back onto his bed, burying his head in his pillow. He hadn’t forgotten. Shit. The memory of their encounter, the intensity of their connection, that damn dream, the lingering scent of her perfume - it was all too vivid. He knew he needed to talk to her, but what the hell was he supposed to say?

His thoughts raced. How do I even find her?

Maybe he could go back to the house, but the thought of running into her parents sent a shiver down his spine. Besides, he had no idea if she even lived there.

Maybe someone at college knows her?

Pulling out his phone, he dialed a few friends, describing Ria and hoping for a lead. The responses varied from vague maybe's like "I think I saw her in the cafeteria once" to dismissive teases about his apparent crush. None were helpful.

"Shit," he cursed, tossing his phone aside. "Useless bunch of idiots."

He forced himself out of bed, the weight of Lida’s words pressing down on him.

Be open to the possibilities. It sounded so simple when she said it.

He pulled on his clothes, his mind still a chaotic mess. He crept downstairs, hoping to avoid another encounter with his aunt. The house was silent, save for the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. He noticed Lida’s car was gone, her usual spot in the driveway empty.

He was off the hook, at least for now.

A folded note on the table caught his eye. He picked it up, his heart pounding.

‘Remember to be gentle with her, Mark,’ Lida had written in her neat, flowing script. ‘She's probably scared too.’

Right. Gentle. He crumpled the note in his fist. He couldn’t keep running from this. Whatever this was—fate, chance, destiny—he had to face it.

He stepped outside, the morning sun warm on his skin. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unknown. He had a girl to find, a destiny to unravel, and a whole lot of explaining to do.

***

He looked around the crowded college campus, searching for any sign of her.

Mark scanned the faces of the students bustling between classes, his gaze lingering on every brunette with even a hint of athleticism. But Ria was nowhere to be found.

Hours later, Mark was no closer to finding Ria. He’d scoured every corner of the campus - the library, the cafeteria, the student union, even the damn gym. He was starting to feel like a stalker, his frustration mounting with each passing minute. He'd stormed out on her, left her alone. Shame and regret twisted in his gut. What if she was angry? Hurt? Scared?

“Idiot! You should have just stayed and talked to her,” he muttered to himself.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, the morning sun beating down on him mercilessly.

Where could she be? What if she’s avoiding me?

Frustration began to build within him as he thought about how he had stormed out on her.

His shirt clung to his skin, the sweat mixing with the coppery tang of dried blood from his shoulder.

He slumped onto a bench, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was starting to regret skipping breakfast.

What now? He wracked his brain, trying to come up with a plan. Going back to the house and waiting seemed like his only option, as creepy as that sounded. A sigh escaped his lips, a blend of frustration and resignation. He raked a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers brushed the gash on his shoulder.

Just as he was about to resign himself to a day of lurking outside a stranger’s house, he spotted her. Ria. She was walking across the quad, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders.

A surge of adrenaline shot through him, and without thinking, he took off in a sprint.

“Ria!” Mark called out, jogging towards her.

She turned, her expression one of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She hesitated for a moment, looking unsure. “I…I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Ria, please,” Mark implored, locking her eyes with his. “Just give me a chance to explain.”

A voice interrupted from behind. “Hey, Ria, who’s this?” A girl with fiery red hair and a curious expression emerged from the crowd of students.

Ria’s shoulders tensed. “It’s nothing, Sarah,” she replied, her voice tight.

“Please, just give me five minutes,” Mark pleaded. “Let me explain.”

Ria hesitated, her eyes searching his face. She seemed to be weighing her options, battling some internal conflict.

Finally, she sighed. “Fine,” she conceded. “But not here. Let’s go somewhere private.”

She led him to an empty classroom down the hall, the silence echoing in the deserted space. She set her bag on a table and leaned against a desk, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“Alright,” she said, her voice clipped. “Talk.”

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He had been so focused on finding her that he hadn’t actually figured out what he was going to say once he did. He looked at her, her face a mixture of apprehension and annoyance, and his mind went blank.

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“Hello!!” Ria waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you going to say something, or are you just going to stare at me all day?”

“Yeah, right,” He faltered, scrambling for the right words. “Sorry. I just…”

He trailed off, searching for the right words, but they seemed to have deserted him.

Taking a deep breath, Mark forced himself to start. “Look, Ria, I’m really sorry,” he started, his voice sincere. “I shouldn’t have just left like that. It was… I don’t know, I just panicked.”

He stumbled over his words, struggling to articulate the whirlwind of emotions he’d been grappling with. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, feeling like a broken record. “It’s just… everything is so confusing…..”

Ria’s silence was heavy, her face unreadable as she listened.

Mark pressed on, his words tumbling out in a torrent of apologies and explanations. He talked about the shock of their encounter, the confusion about the bond, his fears.

This is going nowhere, he thought, feeling a wave of despair.

Feeling increasingly desperate as he spoke, Mark sensed the distance between them growing. He kept talking, but even he wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore. Ria seemed to retreat behind a wall he couldn't breach. Despite his efforts, his words began to feel hollow, even to his own ears.

How do I fix this?

Just when he was about to give up hope, Ria surprised him.

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him with renewed intensity. "Are you hurt?"

Mark blinked in surprise. "Huh? What do you..."

Only then did the throbbing ache in his shoulder register, a blossom of crimson staining his shirt. He glanced at his shirt, noticing the spreading bloodstain.

“Ah, shit…” he muttered realizing bandage had slipped.

Ria stepped closer; her brow furrowed as she examined the wound. “What the hell happened?” Her fingers gently probed the injury, sending a confounding shiver through Mark's body at her nearness.

"It's nothing, really. Just a minor scuffle, no big deal," he attempted to downplay the injury, wincing as a wave of pain shot through him when he moved.

"That doesn't look 'minor' to me," Ria countered, her gaze intense. “You need to take care of that properly. Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Mark blurted out, caught off guard.

“Take off your shirt,” she repeated, her tone brooking no argument.

“It’s fine,” he insisted, backing away. "Uh, I-I can just get it looked at back home."

Ria scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “Seriously? Walking around with an open wound like that? Do you want to get an infection?”

“I’ll be fine…”

“Now,” she said, her voice sharp. “Take it off, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Ria, I…”

"Your shirt. Off. Now," she demanded, her patience wearing thin.

Mark found himself speechless. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more - her sudden concern or the unexpected stubbornness she was displaying. He could tell she wasn’t going to back down. He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head.

He tried to ignore the heat that crept up his neck as he felt Ria’s gaze on him. He caught her sneaking a few glances, her eyes lingering on his chest, a flicker of appreciation in her gaze.

“Sit,” she instructed, gesturing towards a nearby desk.

Mark obeyed and sat on the edge, his muscles tense.

She stepped closer, her expression serious. She muttered a few words under her breath, her fingers tracing a pattern in the air before touching his wound. A sharp, cold sensation made him flinch.

"Ow!!"

"Sorry," she murmured softly, not meeting his gaze. "It'll sting at first, but it'll seal up the injury quickly."

True to her word, Mark could feel the ragged gash knitting itself back together, the bleeding slowing. It was a strange sensation, a tingling numbness followed by a dull ache.

“How… how are you able to do that?” He asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought you were an ice mage. I didn’t know mages could heal.”

Her movements stilled momentarily before resuming their idle rhythm across his injury. When at last she spoke, her voice was measured and deliberate. “I’m… something of a hybrid,” she admitted. “Mostly a mage, but there’s some witch blood in my lineage.”

“Whoa,” he breathed. “That’s possible?”

Ria shrugged.

“That’s so cool.”

The faintest of smiles ghosted across Ria's full lips, seemingly against her better judgment, and Mark felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Damn, she’s beautiful, he thought, his heart skipping a beat.

He couldn’t help but stare as she continued to work on his wound, her brow furrowed in concentration. He got lost in the details - her long, dark lashes, the way her lips formed a determined line, the subtle curve of her jaw. A strand of silky brown hair fell across her face, and she brushed it back with a quick, graceful movement of her hand.

She's full of surprises, he thought, utterly captivated. One moment she seemed distant and reserved, and the next, entirely compassionate.

“How long are you going to keep staring?”

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Couldn’t help it.”

Ria gave him a look, before focusing her attention back on his wound.

The silence that followed was more comfortable than before, but Mark's mind was still reeling, searching for a way to mend the rift between them.

Bonded or not, I messed up, he admitted internally.

“I didn’t know,” he suddenly blurted out, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

“Didn’t know what?”

“About… about any of it,” he gestured vaguely, encompassing the strange and chaotic world he’d stumbled into. “About being bonded, about any of this.”

“Look, Ria,” he continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know I screwed up. Big time. Walking out on you like that was… well, it was a dick move. No excuses.” He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “It’s just… this whole thing….it’s a lot to process, you know?”

Ria’s expression remained guarded, but a flicker of curiosity danced in her eyes.

“Here’s the thing,” he continued, his voice gaining momentum as he spoke. “My parents died when I was eight. Since then, it’s been me and my aunt, bouncing from town to town, always laying low. Lida, she’s… protective, to say the least. She kept me shielded from all this supernatural stuff. Said it was too dangerous, too risky. So, I don’t really know much about how any of this works. I’ve barely even met anyone else like us.”

He sighed deeply. “So, yeah, I know about magic. I can do some pretty crazy shit myself,” he motioned to his healing shoulder with a wry smile. “But all this other stuff? It’s like a foreign language to me.”

“When I saw you in the library… I felt it…. This… overwhelming pull, it blindsided me completely. I've never experienced anything even remotely like those emotions since losing my parents,” he said, his voice dropping as he looked down at his fidgeting hands. "Then everything spiraled so quickly between us...you know. And then you saying we were bonded… it was just too much. It freaked me out, okay? I didn’t know what it meant, what it implied. I just reacted: Impulsively. Stupidly.”

Mark dared to meet her gaze again, noticing a slight thaw in her previously icy demeanor.

“I’m not trying to make excuses for how I acted,” he said softly. “I was an idiot. I just… I don’t want to hurt you. I was scared, and confused, and completely out of my depth. I just...I didn't want to keep hurting you by sticking around when I had no damn clue what I was doing."

His jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate the tangled skein of his emotions over the past turbulent day. "I swear, Ria, I really didn't know anything about this whole bonded thing until my aunt filled me in later. And even then..." He trailed off with a helpless shrug.

“I want to understand. I want to understand this… bond… and I want to understand you.”

At last, Mark fell silent, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion of unburdening his turmoil in one impassioned torrent. Ria, for her part, could only stare at him mutely for several agonizing moments before uttering one understated word.

“Whoa…”

He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah. Whoa pretty much sums it up.”

“That’s… a lot.”

“Believe me, it’s a lot to live with.”

Mark noticed a subtle shift in her posture.

“So,” she finally asked, her voice laced with a hesitant curiosity, “you really had no idea about any of this? About being bonded?”

“I swear,”he replied. “It’s all new territory for me. Never even heard the word until yesterday.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he sensed a flicker of understanding in her eyes, a subtle softening of her expression. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to chip away at the wall she had built around herself.

A sudden wave of intense cold flooded Mark’s shoulder, making him flinch and suck in a sharp breath. “Ah, fuckk!!!”

Ria instantly pulled her hand away, her eyes wide with alarm. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot I was still channeling and…”

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was tight with pain. He rubbed his shoulder, trying to ease the stinging cold that lingered.

“I’m so sorry, I was concentrating on… well, on other things, and I just kept pouring energy into it. Are you really alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Mark insisted, testing the movement of his arm. The pain was fading quickly, replaced by a dull ache. “Guess I deserved that, after everything."

Ria bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I… I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did either. I was just… surprised.”

“It’s okay,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. He looked down at his shoulder, amazed at how quickly the wound was healing. “See? All better. You’re a miracle worker.”

“I’m really sorry,” she mumbled again, still looking embarrassed.

Silence fell between them once more. Mark racked his brain, trying to come up with something to say. Come on, Mark, think! You got this far, don’t blow it now.

“So…” he began, hoping she would pick up the conversational thread.

“So…”

“What now?”

She shrugged. “I really don’t know. What do you suggest?”

“So, I was thinking… maybe we could grab a coffee? Or something? Unless you’d rather file a restraining order.”

The unexpected invitation hung there, and for one horrifying second, Mark braced for her withering rejection.

But then the slightest of smiles curved her lips as she huffed a breathless chuckle. "You're seriously asking me out on a date? Now, after everything.”

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I was going to ask you yesterday before you mentioned needing to call your parents and then things just escalated…”

"Ah, right...bad timing on my part, I guess."

“Not really,” he countered with a lopsided grin. “Considering everything.” He paused, letting the unspoken words hang in the air. “So, what do you say? Coffee? My treat?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice hesitant. “This whole situation is… a lot. And to be honest, Even I’m still processing everything that happened.”

“I get it,” he said, nodding. “Believe me, I’m right there with you. But that’s kind of why I want to talk. To try and make sense of it all. Over coffee, maybe with a giant slice of chocolate cake?”

“You’re bribing me with cake?” Ria asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“It’s worth a shot, right?”

She chuckled. “I’m still not sure about this whole situation.”

“Well, neither am I,” he admitted. “But I figure the least we can do is try to understand it. Together. Over coffee. And cake Unless you’re lactose intolerant. Then we can go for smoothies…. or carrot sticks. Whatever you like.”

Her smile broadened. “You’re a strange guy.”

“That’s what my aunt keeps telling me,” he quipped. “She also says I have a knack for finding trouble.”

“Well, she’s not wrong there,” she laughed, her mood lightening.

“So, what do you say?” He pressed, hoping he wasn’t pushing too hard. “Coffee? Cake? A chance to unravel this crazy destiny thing?”

“I…” She bit her lip, her gaze flickering to the floor.

“Look, I know this great little cafe downtown. They roast their own beans, have all these crazy latte flavors…” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling.

Ria’s lips twitched with amusement. “You really know your coffee, huh?”

“Trying to really sell it here. Am I doing a good job?”

“Kind of,” she admitted. “But I’m more of a tea person.”

“Well, they have great tea too. We can...…” Mark began, but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the quiet classroom.

Silence hung in the air, thick with awkwardness.

Her laughter broke the tension. “Someone’s hungry.”

“Yeah, long night,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Skipped breakfast, too.”

“Well, I’m not sure about coffee…”

Damn it, stomach, you traitor! Mark thought, cursing his rumbling insides.

“But,” she continued, “I do love the burgers at the cafeteria.”

“Great!” Mark's response came out more enthusiastic than intended, making Ria laugh again. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… really like their burgers, too. So, how about it? Want to grab some?”

He hopped off the desk, eager to escape the awkwardness.

Ria arched an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips.

“What?”

“As much as I’m enjoying the view,” she said, her gaze lingering on his bare chest, “I think some people might object to your current state of dress.”

Mark glanced down, realizing he was still shirtless. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” He quickly pulled his shirt back on.

“So, shall we?” he asked, trying to regain his composure.

“Can I ask you something first?” She asked hesitantly.

“Sure,” he said, his stomach clenching with a fresh wave of anxiety.

“What’s your name?”

Mark stared at her, bewildered. "I...you don't know my name?"

A tinge of pink colored Ria's cheeks as she lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Well, we sort of skipped formalities when we first...met."

He thought back on their encounter, realizing she was right. “And you were giving me a hard time about asking you out?”

Ria shrugged again, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“It’s Mark.”

“Mark,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Glad you approve,” he grinned. “Now, since we seem to have skipped nearly every normal social protocol, how about we complete the introduction properly? Over burgers?”

Ria rewarded him with that dazzling smile that caused his heart to stutter in his chest. “Sure, I think I'd like that."