I was leaving work late, the streetlights already glowing, when I stopped as usual. As I bent down to place the money near him, Arthur reached out and gently closed his hand around mine.
“Rachel,” he said quietly.
I froze. I had never told him my name.
“You’ve done more for me than you know,” he continued.
I forced a small smile. “I’m just glad it helps.”
But he shook his head. His eyes, usually clouded and distant, were suddenly piercing. “You need to listen to me. Don’t go home tonight. Find a hotel. Tomorrow, I’ll explain everything.”
My chest tightened. “Explain what?”
His grip tightened — surprisingly strong. “Promise me.”
Traffic moved past us. People walked by. But it felt like the world had paused.
“You’re not safe,” Arthur said. “Do not go back to your apartment.”
Fear crept up my spine. “Arthur, you’re frightening me.”
“I know,” he replied softly. “But fear tonight is better than losing everything tomorrow.”
He let go, his shoulders trembling as if he’d been holding something in for years. “Please, Rachel. Trust me.”
Logic screamed at me to leave. He was a stranger. A homeless man. I had no proof he knew anything about my life.