The storm came without warning.

One moment, the sky was humming with distant thunder; the next, lightning tore it open, flooding the café with white light before plunging it into darkness.

The hum of the refrigerator stopped. The jazz faded mid-note. Even the air seemed to freeze.

“Power’s out,” Devansh said, tapping his phone for light.

Liora didn’t move. She stood by the counter, her back to him — perfectly still.

“Hey,” he said softly, “you okay?”

She turned slightly, her face caught in the dim blue of the emergency sign.

Her eyes—normally dark and calm—were glowing faintly crimson.

He froze.

She noticed, turned her face away sharply. “Stay back.”

Her voice was low, strained, almost… broken.

“I told you not to come tonight,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Devansh took a step forward. “It’s just a blackout. It’ll—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, almost like a growl.

Her hands clutched the edge of the counter, nails pressing into the wood.

He could hear her breathing — fast, uneven — like someone fighting against themselves.

“What’s happening to you?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” she muttered, still turned away. “Not when you see what I am.”

“Try me,” he said again.

She finally turned — and this time, lightning flashed outside the window.

For a second, he saw everything.

Her eyes burned like coals. Fangs gleamed under trembling lips.

A thin trail of crimson ran from the corner of her mouth down her chin — she’d bitten herself trying not to lose control.

Devansh’s phone light shook slightly in his hand. But he didn’t move. Didn’t scream.

He just whispered, “Liora…”

“Stay away!” she cried, covering her mouth. “Please— I don’t want to hurt you!”

He took a step closer anyway, his voice calm.

“You’re not going to.”

Her breathing quickened. “You don’t understand. I haven’t fed in days. And your scent—”

She stopped herself, trembling harder. “Please… just go.”

But he didn’t. He just looked at her — really looked. The same quiet girl who’d listened to his stories, who’d smiled at his silly jokes, who made the empty café feel alive again.

“I’m not afraid,” he said softly.

She laughed bitterly, her voice cracking. “You should be.”

He took another step closer. “You think I’ve never seen monsters before?”

Her eyes flicked to his, confused.

He smiled faintly. “They just usually hide in people. Not behind fangs.”

She blinked — and for the first time, her expression softened through the hunger. Something human flickered back in her gaze.

A loud clap of thunder broke the silence, followed by rain hammering on the roof.

Devansh slowly set his phone on the counter, the light still glowing between them.

Then, without a word, he reached for the spare blanket near the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Her body went still.

The light flickered again, and he said quietly, “You must’ve been lonely.”

And in that instant — even with her blood-red eyes and trembling hands — she looked more human than anyone he’d ever met.

Outside, the rain poured harder, washing the world clean.

Inside, she whispered, almost to herself,

“You should’ve been scared.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe I was. But not of you.”