Saturday's sunlight felt harsh and unforgiving.

Liam insisted on "celebrating." Emma had expected a quiet dinner for two, but when they pulled up to their usual bar, she found the backyard packed with their entire social circle.


"Surprise!"

Liam wrapped his arm around her, planting an excited kiss on her cheek, reeking of beer and drugstore cologne. Emma forced a smile, enduring hugs from all sides. The twenty-grand "transaction" had hollowed her out—she wanted her bed, not this social gauntlet.

"Today's a huge day!" Liam climbed onto the pool table, beer in hand, face flushed with excitement.


Panic surged through Emma's chest.

"Y'all know I've been hustling toward one goal these past few years," Liam's voice boomed, "a future for us—for me and Emma!"


Friends whooped and hollered.

"And yesterday," Liam's voice jumped an octave, clearly buzzed, "I finally hit the number! We've got the down payment!"

The backyard exploded with cheers and whistles.

"That Oak Creek house! With the yard! We freaking did it!"

"Oh my God, Liam! That's incredible!"

"Congrats, you guys!"

Emma stood frozen in the crowd's center, her blood turning to ice.

Down payment. House. Yard.

Three days ago, she'd sold her blood to keep her brother alive another week. Now she was expected to celebrate this "normal" dream she could never afford.

Her stomach lurched violently, phantom scents of cheap cinnamon and antiseptic flooding back.

"That's not even the best part!" Liam jumped down, shouldering through the crowd straight toward her.

The crowd's chanting swelled like a tidal wave. Emma's heart stuttered.

"Emma," Liam's eyes blazed with passion and future dreams, "we've got the house. Now there's just one thing left."

He dropped to one knee. Cheap string lights cast patchy shadows across his face.

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

"Oh my god!"

"Liam, you're finally—"

"Emma Vance," his voice quivered with excitement, "three years together, and you're my rock. Now nothing stands in our way. Marry me, Emma. Let's start our life—for real."

Silence.

Deafening silence.

All eyes locked on Emma. Expectant smiles. Liam's burning gaze. The ring's sparkling "promise"…

It all converged into a massive cage, walls closing in.

She couldn't breathe.

This "normal" world—this "perfect future" Liam had mapped out—suddenly embodied her deepest fear. She was a fraud. A "donor" who sold her body. She didn't deserve this. Didn't want it.

"I…" Emma tried to speak, but her throat felt packed with cotton.

"Emma?" Liam's smile faltered as he sensed something amiss.

"I can't."

The words fell soft as a whisper, yet landed like a bomb.

The cheering died instantly.

"What?" Liam stood, disbelief etched on his face. "You… what do you mean?"

"I can't." Emma pushed him away, panic overwhelming her. "I need air… I… I'm sorry."

She dropped her cup, shoved through stunned friends, and bolted from the backyard.

"Emma!"

Liam's shout echoed behind her, but she kept running. She sprinted down the sidewalk, cold air searing her lungs.

She made it to her apartment building, collapsing in a streetlight's shadow, gasping for breath. Tears finally came—shame, guilt, and twisted relief all mingled together.

"Emma! Stop!"

Liam caught up, grabbing her arm with shocking force.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he growled, gentle boyfriend vanished. "I just proposed in front of everyone! Announced our house! And you ran?"

"Let go of me, Liam!"

"Why'd you say 'no'? Ring too small? House not fancy enough? Tell me, Emma! What the hell do you want?"

"I just… I'm not ready!" she cried. "You planned everything without asking me! It's 'your' house, 'your' plan!"

"I thought we wanted the same things!"

"Well, you thought wrong!"

…………

Across the street, a black Bentley idled silently in the shadows.

The window lowered a fraction.

Elias Thorne sat in the back, silently observing the drama unfold.

His heightened senses captured everything—the mortal male's racing heartbeat, the stench of cheap beer and anxiety sweat.

But his focus remained fixed on the girl.

Emma.

He could smell her.

Even from across the street, her scent hit him like a tempest—fear, anxiety, the salt of exertion on her skin.

And beneath it all, that intoxicating sweetness of "destiny" in her blood.

The mortal, Liam, gripped her arm. His hand touching what belonged to Elias.

Elias's fingers clenched. Ancient, dark instincts surged. He wanted to exit the car, snap the mortal's wrist, and tear Emma from his filthy grasp.

But he restrained himself.

He sensed something else—Emma's "resistance."

Her rejection of the mortal's proposal.

Her soul screaming "no."

Elias leaned back into the shadows, lips curling into a cold smile.

Good.

She was already rejecting that world "in the sunlight."

He wouldn't need to drag her into darkness.

She would walk into it willingly.