Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Rainy Night Encounter

A week after the breakup, a massive rainstorm hit the city.

I had been working overtime for three days straight, and I was exhausted. When I stepped out of the office at 9 PM, the rain was a deluge, and the Uber wait times were over an hour.

I didn't have an umbrella, but I didn't want to wait. I started walking toward the subway, figured I was already having a bad enough week―a little more rain wouldn't kill me.

As I passed a narrow alley, I heard a car horn. A sleek black sedan was idling there, its engine letting out a low, muffled growl. It looked like it had stalled out.

I was going to keep walking, but then I saw a man standing in the pouring rain. His expensive suit was completely soaked as he tried to push the car.

On a whim, I stopped and walked over to give him a hand.

Together, we managed to push the car to a safe spot at the curb. The man wiped the rain from his eyes and turned to look at me.

He was young, maybe in his early thirties, with deep, sharp features and a gaze that felt incredibly steady. Even drenched to the bone, he carried an air of absolute authority.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low and rich.

"It was nothing." I wiped the water from my face and turned to leave.

"Wait." He reached into the car and pulled out a jacket, handing it to me. "The rain is too heavy. You'll catch a cold."

I hesitated for a second before taking it.

"I've called for a tow," he said, checking his phone. "But I can't find a ride."

"The subway station is five hundred yards that way," I pointed.

He nodded, his eyes lingering on my face for a heartbeat. "What's your name?"

Standing there in the rain, I didn't feel like answering.

"You don't need to know. Just a passerby," I said, before turning and running into the curtain of rain.

When I got home and took a hot shower, I realized I was still holding his jacket. I checked the tag―it was custom-made. I didn't recognize the fabric, but I knew it cost more than my monthly rent.

The next day, I found the dry cleaner listed on the inner lining and brought the jacket there. The staff looked at the garment and immediately became incredibly respectful. "This gentleman is a VIP client. We will ensure this is returned to him."

I left a small note: "The jacket is clean. Thanks for the help that night."

I didn't leave a name or a number.

I figured that would be the end of it.