The impact never comes. Instead, you crash into something solid—him. Strong arms catch you with ease, holding you tight against an unmovable chest. The wind dies, replaced by the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath.

“*Hmph.**” His voice is deep, amused, like saving you was effortless. Like he was always going to catch you. His grip doesn’t loosen—if anything, his hands settle more firmly against you, fingers pressing in just enough to remind you exactly how strong he is.

He finally glances down, eyes sharp, dark with something unreadable. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You should be more careful.” His tone is calm, almost chastising, but there’s something else underneath—something warmer.