The Prodigal of Love

The sky gradually turned to late afternoon. The hallway light’s “mouse” had long been broken, emitting dim and nuclear rays. Chloe Thomas, carrying a bag of groceries she had just bought from the supermarket, kept her hand against the wall, groping her way step by step.

The old building was about to be demolished and moved, with the security nowhere to be seen. Few households remained, the hallway devoid of light.

To the sixth floor, her heart filled with worry and anxiety, she lowered her head to search for her keys in her bag. Suddenly, her chest collided with an obstacle, causing her to lose her balance. Strangely, the object she hit had a bit of warmth... it was a person!

The faint smell of tobacco lingered around her nose, almost making her lose control and scream.

Her heart pounded, her ears filled with the sound of her own rapid breathing. Instinctively, she stepped back a few paces.

A crisp “click” sound echoed, and a small spark of light burst before her eyes. Thanks to the blue glow of the lighter, Chloe saw a familiar, somber pair of eyes, with dark, sharp pupils filled with impatience and irritation.

It was him...

Chloe tightened her grip on the grocery bag, her fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her palm, trying to steady her breath before she spoke, “What’s the matter?”

The man’s lighter went out, leaving them in silence before the door, consumed by darkness. After a moment of contemplation, he reminded her, “Open the door.”

Chloe seemed to awaken from a dream, hurriedly rummaging through her bag. The more anxious she became, the more her hands trembled.

A slender arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, his solid chest pressing against her back. Her breath immediately hitched, her eyes staring at the moving shadow. They stood so close that she could vaguely feel his body temperature and hear his heartbeat. That warmth went straight into her heart, burning her chest.

He stood silently behind her, reaching into her bag.

Knowing he was searching for the keys, understanding that he wasn’t intentionally touching her, she still felt uncomfortable, her eyes stinging as if something uncontrollable was about to fall.

The sound of steady breathing and the jingle of keys by her ear left her dumbfounded as she moved forward, wanting to stop him from opening the door. The man, impatient, rebuked her: “Move.”

She hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, obediently standing still, trying to breathe quietly, afraid of breaking the current silence.

The door creaked open, a harsh light flooding in, causing her to squint and slowly lift her eyes to adjust to the sudden change. The image of the handsome man standing in the doorway immediately imprinted in her mind.

Chloe’s heart pounded wildly, she quickly lowered her eyes, not daring to look at him for more than a second. She forced herself to carry the grocery bag straight inside, placing it on the round table, slowly regaining her breath. Thinking about the man behind her, her heart couldn’t help but flutter with unease.

Turning around, she focused on him, awkwardly asking, “Do you want some water?”

Caleb Wilson glanced around the dilapidated room, the damp smell of New York’s rainy season permeating the air. His frown deepened, increasingly impatient, he ignored her question and got straight to the point: “Lily is sick, she’s asking for you.”

Chloe was stunned, sweat forming on her pale forehead.

She stared wide-eyed, anxiously stepping closer to him, completely unaware of the intense disdain in his eyes, and asked worriedly, “Is it serious? The weather has been unpredictable lately, why haven’t you taken good care of her?”