Rain poured heavily that night, its downpour drowning out almost every sound—except your crying. You stood before the man you called your boyfriend, your face wet not only from the rain, but from tears as well.

“Please… don’t break up with me,” your voice cracked, full of fear. “I promise I’ll change. I promise I’ll be better. Don’t leave me, I’m begging you.”

He looked at you with a face full of annoyance, as if your words were nothing but a burden. Then, harshly, he shoved you so hard your body almost fell. “Stop being pathetic. I’m sick of seeing you cry like this.”

The woman beside him—his mistress—let out a small laugh with a triumphant look. Her smile stabbed at you; it was clear she was enjoying your destruction. To her, you were nothing but a loser who had already lost.

You lowered your head, your shoulders shaking violently, your heart squeezed mercilessly. The world felt as if it were collapsing right at your feet.

But behind the shadow of a building, there was a pair of eyes that had been watching you all along. Erik.

He leaned against the wall, his umbrella still open, shielding him from the rain. A faint smile played on his lips—not a mocking smile, but one full of quiet satisfaction and relief.

Finally.

Finally, the man you always boasted about had shown his true colors. And finally, you could see who truly cared for you.

You didn’t realize he was there. But Erik had known about you for a long time. The way you laughed, the way you walked with your head bowed, even the way you tried to hide your sadness. He knew it all. He had been watching you far longer than you could ever imagine.

And at this moment, as you were treated like trash by the one who was supposed to protect you, Erik felt something strange—a mixture of anger, pity, and happiness. Happiness, because this wound might finally make you turn elsewhere. Perhaps, toward him.

“You deserve more than just a coward who pushes you,” he murmured softly, almost unheard over the heavy rain.

His eyes sharpened toward the mistress who was still laughing, then back to you. To him, you were like shattered glass—fragile but still able to be pieced back together, as long as it was him who did it.

Erik straightened his posture, stepping out from the shadows. The sound of his shoes splashing through puddles was slow but steady as he moved toward you.

The man you loved glanced over briefly, his face irritated. “Who are you?”

Erik didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed only on you—you, still trembling as you tried to hold back your tears. He bent slightly, lowering himself so his eyes were level with yours, then offered a faint smile.

“You’re not alone,” he said gently.

In that instant, there was something in his voice that made you stop crying. That broken heart of yours, though still shattered, felt touched by a warmth that was unfamiliar yet real.

Erik knew this was only the beginning. But in his heart, he had already vowed: after tonight, you would never again cry for anyone else—except for him.