The rain had thinned into a light drizzle by the time Arora left the diner.
The streets were half asleep — quiet neon reflections stretching across wet asphalt, the sound of tires hissing in the distance.
Miso trailed behind, careful not to step on her leader's silence. Arora's coat was still damp from the earlier downpour, her eyes sharper than usual, jaw tight with restrained fury.
"Leader," Miso began cautiously, "should I call Edwin to pick us up?"
"No," Arora said, her tone clipped. "Go home. I'll walk."
Miso frowned. "At this hour?"
"Go."
There was no arguing with that voice.
Arora waited until Miso disappeared around the corner before she let her mask crack — just a little. Her pulse was still uneven, her hands still tense from holding back.
Why the hell am I angry? she thought. Because of that fool's smile? That stupid look on his face?
The image of the golden-haired boy flashed again in her mind — his laugh, his bright eyes, the way he looked at her after the fight.
She exhaled sharply. "This is ridiculous."
And without another thought, she turned down the next street, heading toward the only place she knew how to bleed out her frustration — the gym.
---
The place belonged to an old friend, a quiet man named Kai, who kept his facility open twenty-four hours for "certain types of clients."
When she pushed the door open, the metallic clink of weights and the faint smell of sweat greeted her. The place was nearly empty except for Kai, wrapping his hands by the boxing ring.
"Arora?" he said, surprised. "You here this late?"
"Don't talk," she muttered, tossing her coat onto a bench. "Just spar with me."
Kai chuckled softly. "Ah, one of those nights."
"Less talk."
He nodded and stepped into the ring.
---
The fight was fast, brutal, and one-sided.
Arora moved like lightning — each punch sharp, each step deliberate. She wasn't fighting Kai; she was fighting the chaos in her head.
Kai barely lasted five minutes before he stumbled back, breath ragged. "You're getting stronger," he panted. "Or angrier."
She pulled off her gloves, tossing them aside. "Both."
He laughed weakly, rubbing his arm. "I'm too old for your therapy sessions."
Arora ignored him and walked toward the small table by the corner, grabbing her water bottle. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror — damp hair sticking to her temples, eyes hard and tired.
She didn't even notice the sound of the door opening behind her.
---
A familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"Hey…"
Arora froze mid-sip.
That voice.
She turned slowly — and there he was again.
Jack.
He stood by the entrance, holding a can of Diet Coke, his golden hair damp from the mist outside, his smile as disarming as ever.
For a second, Arora wondered if she was hallucinating.
"You again?" she asked coolly.
Jack scratched the back of his neck. "Uh… yeah. I just… saw you fighting. You were amazing."
Her brow arched. "You were watching me?"
"Kind of hard not to," he admitted, grinning. "You almost broke that guy's arm."
"That guy," she said flatly, "is my friend."
"Oh." His ears turned pink. "Right. Sorry."
He stepped closer, offering the can. "You looked tired. I thought you could use this."
Arora stared at it, then at him. "You always carry Diet Coke around for emergencies?"
He shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Just lucky, I guess."
She took it from him, fingers brushing his for a second — and something warm fluttered in her chest before she could stop it.
Jack hesitated, then asked, "Can I know your name?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
He looked genuinely hurt for half a second, then pouted in a way that almost made her laugh. "Then what am I supposed to call you?"
Her lips twitched. Don't do it, she warned herself. Don't—
"Call me Baby."
Jack blinked. "Huh?"
She tilted her head slightly. "You wanted a name. That's the one."
"B–Baby?" he repeated, as if testing how it sounded.
Her heart did something strange — skipped, twisted, then raced.
She swallowed. "Yes. Got a problem?"
He shook his head quickly, smiling. "Not at all, Baby."
The way he said it — soft, sincere, almost reverent — hit harder than any punch she'd thrown that night.
And for a second, the ruthless head of the Black Rose forgot who she was.
All she felt was warmth.
---
When he left, the gym felt too quiet.
Kai approached from the side, raising an eyebrow. "Who was that?"
Arora took a slow sip of her Coke, hiding the smallest of smiles. "No one."
But inside, her heart was still echoing with the sound of his voice.
Baby.
To Be Continued.