Lyan nodded and began recounting his relationship with Angela from the first day he saw her.
"It was a rainy autumn afternoon," he started, shedding tears as he spoke. "I was in the backseat of my car, scrolling through a presentation on my tablet, barely paying attention to the world outside. Andrew Stones, my ever-reliable personal assistant, was at the wheel."
The rain was relentless, pounding against the windshield and pooling on the asphalt. Visibility was poor, and the windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour. The car turned a corner, and then it happened.
"What has happened?" Darsa asked, as he took his notes.
Lyan wiped his tears and recalled everything from that day. "We hit her!" he responded. The vivid image of that moment played in his mind."
The more Lyan talks, the more the detectives sketch the scenes of what happened in their minds.
Andrew slammed on the brakes, and the car jolted violently, throwing Lyan forward against his seatbelt. "What the hell, Andrew?" Lyan snapped, his tablet sliding from his lap onto the floor.
"There's someone in the road!" Andrew exclaimed, his voice tight with panic.
Lyan leaned forward, peering out through the rain-streaked windshield. There she was—a figure standing in the middle of the street, drenched and shivering. Her soaked clothes clung to her like a second skin, and her dark curls were plastered to her face. She raised a hand, shielding her eyes from the car's headlights.
"Get out of the way? Are you insane?" Andrew shouted at the woman in the rain.
For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Lyan's heart raced as he took in the scene, his irritation melting into concern. "Andrew, check on that person." he ordered.
Andrew muttered under his breath and quickly shifted the car into park, reaching for his umbrella. "Stay here, Sir. I'll go check." he instructed, already opening the door.
Lyan didn't listen. He followed Andrew out into the rain, the cold drops soaking through his tailored suit in seconds. As they approached the woman, she staggered slightly, her legs trembling beneath her.
"Miss, are you all right?" Andrew asked, his tone brisk but concerned.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice trembling as much as her body. "I didn't mean to be in the way. I just... I slipped, and—"
"It's all right," Lyan interrupted, his voice softer than he expected. Her hazel eyes flicked to his, wide and filled with a mix of fear and embarrassment. Up close, he noticed the faint bruise forming on her temple and the way her hands clutched a small, battered handbag to her chest.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, stepping closer.
"No, I'm fine," she said quickly, though her unsteady stance suggested otherwise. "Really, I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
Lyan exchanged a glance with Andrew, then turned back to her. "You're clearly not fine. You're coming with us. We'll take you somewhere safe."
She hesitated, her brows knitting together. "I don't want to be a bother—"
"You won't be," Lyan said firmly. "It's either that, or I'm calling an ambulance."
Her shoulders sagged with resignation as she gave a reluctant nod. "All right," she murmured.
Andrew fetched a blanket from the trunk, draping it over her shoulders before helping her into the car. She settled into the seat cautiously, as though afraid of leaving a mark on the pristine leather interior.
Lyan slid in beside her, his attention still fixed on her pale face and trembling hands. "What's your name?" he asked gently.
"Angela," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Angela," he repeated, the name lingering on his tongue. It suited her, somehow—soft yet strong. "I'm Lyan."
She offered a faint smile, the first crack in her guarded demeanor. "Thank you, Lyan. And... I'm sorry again for the trouble."
"It's no trouble," he assured her, though his mind was already spinning with questions. "Who was she? Why had she been wandering the streets alone in this weather?" He thought.
And why did he feel as though, in stopping for her, he had stumbled into a moment that would change everything? But when he looked into her eyes, she seemed sad, Despite the water dripping from her curls onto her face, it was clear that the tears on her cheeks weren't from the rain. He took his jacket and handed it to her because she was still shivering. "Here—you need to warm up."
"Andrew, why are we still here?" Lyan said signaling Andrew to start driving.
"On it Sir."
As the car began to move again, Angela turned her gaze to the rain-speckled window. Her reflection stared back at her, the faint outline of tears blending seamlessly with the raindrops tracing uneven paths down the glass. Lyan noticed, his chest tightening at the sight.
The silence in the car was heavy, filled only with the rhythmic patter of rain and the occasional squeak of windshield wipers. Angela clutched the blanket tighter around her lap and wrapped the jacket more firmly around her shoulders, her small, trembling frame a stark contrast to the leather luxury that surrounded her.
"Angela," Lyan said softly, breaking the silence. "Are you sure you're okay?"
She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. Without turning to face him, she whispered, "I don't think anyone is ever really okay. People out here are walking with open wounds, but they learn to hide them well enough to look whole." Her voice cracked slightly.
Lyan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied her. "You don't have to hide them," he said gently.
Angela turned to face him then, her hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, she seemed on the verge of saying something, but she quickly shook her head, as if brushing the thought away. "You don't even know me," she said with a weak smile. "Why would you care?"
Lyan tilted his head, meeting her gaze with quiet intensity. "Because sometimes, even strangers can see what others don't. And right now, I see someone who looks like they've been carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders."
Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her hands clenching the blanket tightly. "You're very observant," she murmured, her tone almost bitter. "But really, I'm fine."
Andrew glanced at Lyan through the rearview mirror, then back at the road. Lyan nodded subtly, signaling him to continue driving without interruption. He didn't want to press Angela too hard, not yet. Andrew was surprised, he had never seen his boss like that.
"Where can we take you?" Lyan asked after a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Do you have someone you can call? Family? A friend?"
When Lyan looked at her, He could sense what was really going on. She seemed afraid of anyone around her. "Hey… do you have anyone you can call? Please, answer me."